#you’d do this to me. crazy part is i’m not mad. i’m bewildered sure but not mad. i’d love to have a convo abt this even if we never talk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ahh-fxck · 3 years

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Chapter 11 of Warrior’s Blues: What Would I Do Without You?

Folks, I am so excited. I finally get to present to you the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! This chapter (and the following two) have been a labor of love. @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog, editor and co-creator of this fic, thank you for all your hard work and insight!! Ok folks, here it is:

Chapter 11: What Would I Do Without You?

Yennefer's visit throws Jaskier for a hard loop. His best friend helps him sort it out. Best Friend Rating of the Geralt Incident? 10/10 top notch Jaskier fuckery. She loves her disaster queer.

CW for drinking, smoking, implied death of an original character, grieving

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged!) for future updates of this story!

@astouract @smolpoe @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry

On the day of Yennefer’s visit, Jaskier arrives at work on a bicycle. He’s late and on a bicycle for the same reason, which is to say, he is drunk and cannot drive his car. He is drunk because he’d been so full of mixed emotions after Yennefer left that he’d sat down to eat the rest of the fruit and whipped cream. Somewhere in there, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to pour half a bottle of bourbon after it.

It was not. Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.

She is a stocky woman in her mid-forties. She has tawny skin and skeptical hazel eyes, and there’s a kind twist to her lips that she often hides. She has a tuft of cropped blue hair and wears a denim vest with a white t-shirt. Even though she is exasperated when he staggers through the door, she feeds him a sandwich and coffee while she fills him in on the meeting he missed. From there, she lets the crew in for the night.

Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a great boss, but when his nearly infinite good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.

The only one who doesn’t give a fuck is Julia. She knew from the second she saw him wheeling in the door that it was going to be a late night, so she lets the rest of the staff out before pouring herself a big glass of gin. Then she settles her elbows against the bar, watching Jaskier mop the dancefloor. He is flailing wildly with the mop, clearing the floor with brutal inefficiency. Internally she begins to count down the time until he knocks the bucket over. Sure enough, a moment later he does just that. She nods in satisfaction, pleased that her timing is still on point.

Jaskier throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess.

As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle.

Julia gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look.

“So… What’s eating you?”

Jaskier grumbles and straightens. “Nothing.” He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.

Julia hums, crossing her arms. “Yeah, and nothing made you stink like bourbon, too. Cough it up.” She leans against a nearby wall, giving him a skeptical look. He looks at her from under the fringe of hair that has fallen over his face. Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”

Going pale, Jaskier groans. “Why are you so hell-bent on pushing my buttons?” The last thing he wants is Julia making guesses about what is bothering him. She has a terrible habit of being accurate and she has a memory like an elephant.

“Because you’re not a dumbass kid anymore and you haven’t shown up drunk in years. You missed an important meeting! What the fuck, Jaskier? Don’t make me call you Julian, I swear to fucking god I’ll break out your birth name.”

“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”

“Julian Alfred P-”

“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries, but secretly he’s glad that she cares enough to needle him. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Then he starts pushing it across the floor again. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”

“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story.

Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”

“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette.

“We-e-elll…” Jaskier prevaricates.

Julia gives him a long look, and he folds.

“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”

Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”.

Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”

“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”

“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”

Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”

Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though Julia. If I talk to you about this it stays strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”

“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”

“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him… she’s mad I slept with him so fast. Turns out she’s okay with me seeing him again.”

Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”

A surprised laugh escapes Jaskier. “No, thank fucking god, I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.

Smirking, Julia taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”

Jaskier snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”

“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. Jaskier had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become something of a spectator sport for her over the years.

Flushing with embarrassment, a crooked grin flickers across Jaskier’s face. “Yeah, well.” He turns his glass in a full circle. “So it turns out, they uh… have a kid together. And I want you to understand how terrifying this woman was because there was no way in hell I was going to ask for more details. But. What she told me was this. They got married because of their daughter, but Geralt… her husband, the man I was sleeping with… He’s gay.”

“Oh man, you really have a way of finding them, don't you?" This is top-notch Jaskier fuckery, it really is. She’s glad she’d stayed to get the story out of him, even though she knew it meant that she’d be dragged into his shit sooner rather than later.

“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan.

“What’s her name?”

“Yennefer.”

“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with Geralt so fast, and then what?”

“And then, Julia! She told me that she’d always hoped that he’d find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just- Pow!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands, then shakes his head and returns to mopping.

“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”

“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! Apparently, he’s always been free to choose his lovers. He’s never wanted to bring one home before, though.”

Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”

“I don’t think she likes me very much, Julia, but she gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.

“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.

“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” Jaskier says over his shoulder.

Julia leans against the doorframe, shaking with mirth. “Oh my fucking god, Jaskier.”

“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd, Julia! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.

“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking.” Julia drawls, eyebrows arching.

“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.

“But what?” She smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.

“Well, I was gonna say beautiful, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaskier puffs, drumming his hands on the bar top, trying to find a way to put it. “Like… ohh, I sound like a fool, but he feels like a warm hearth. I just wanna curl up next to him with a book and a cup of tea and fall asleep because I feel so good around him. Safe. And don’t you go telling me he’s a stranger-” Jaskier breaks off as Julia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “I know that! I know, and that’s what makes it so weird, Julia. But like, good weird.”

Julia hums thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. Jaskier has been getting more self-aware as he ages, and for once, she’s inclined to believe that he remembers this guy’s a stranger. “Have you called your therapist yet?”

“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully, she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”

“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.

He takes it with a nod of thanks. “Yeah… I guess I got a little freaked out after his wife grilled me this morning, didn’t cope with it well.” Taking a sip, he frowns. “Julia, I’m in over my head. I don’t really know what to do here. He’s never had a boyfriend before.”

Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?”

“Yeah… He’s… I guess he spent his whole adult life in the military and never let himself have one. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots a glance at Julia. His glass scrapes on the bar top.

Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”

Puffing out a long, slow breath, Jaskier nods. He draws the coaster over and sticks it under his drink with a guilty look. “Yeah.” Slumping to the bar top, he puts his chin on his hands. “She said… if I cheated on him it would crush him. She said… ‘Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.’” Putting his face into his arms, Jaskier gives a little groan.

Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances had never been particularly stable. Her heart goes out to him. She finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”

“I’m feeling massively intimidated, Julia. He’s gorgeous and I really want to date him, but I’m really afraid I’m going to be bad for him. I don’t exactly have the most amazing track record.”

Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulderblades, an unusually affectionate gesture for her. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into your personal relationships. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you. It’s been a long time since you let anyone in.”

Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to see much of my life after the dust settled. I hope she’s proud of me.”

A smile lights Julia’s face, but as she speaks a note of grief creeps into her voice. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did.

“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo. You’ve really shaped up. Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.” She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best now to fix it when you don’t. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”

Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As Julia’s hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he can feel his throat tightening. “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”

A crack appears in Julia’s heart. She nods and steps closer to Jaskier, reaching around his hip and pulling him close. Jaskier leans into her and she grips him tightly with her strong arm. Her cheek presses against him and she squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. “Me too. I miss her like hell.” As she grips Jaskier, silent tears dampen his cheeks. Before long, Julia’s eyes begin to well over too.

Rue had been the center of both of their lives. Julia had been in love with her since they met one hot summer on Coney Island as teenagers. They had kissed in the rain under one of the piers, and that had been it for her. By the time they’d moved in together as adults, Julia would have gone down on one knee and married her in a heartbeat.

Every summer they took a long vacation on Fire Island, where Julia would pick up part time work as a bartender. They’d met Jaskier one summer there when he was just sixteen years old. He’d been a disaster of a baby queer, but gregarious little Rue had seen something of herself in him. She had taken him under her wing, and he had thrived.

When Rue was diagnosed with ovarian cancer four years ago, it had been at a quiet time in Julia’s life. Jaskier had gotten a therapist a year before and was finally out of her hair. The bar was thriving. Rue and Julia had settled into their home just the way they’d liked it, tea settees and all. Julia remembers looking at this yellow, gold, and cream-colored doily on their tea table after they got home from Rue’s diagnosis. The little sunburst pattern had seared into her mind as she sat in shock.

The following two years had been hell on a plate. The bar came closer to folding than it ever had as both Julia and Jaskier bent themselves completely out of shape trying to get Rue the care she needed. In the end, that had meant hospice and a funeral. Jaskier had ended up having to plan it for her, and he’d stepped up to the role with a seriousness that she hadn’t thought him physically capable of. It changed something about his personality. Julia watched him go almost overnight from a happy-go-lucky kid to a closed-off and responsible adult. The only exception had happened shortly after Rue’s death.

When the fuss from the funeral had died down, Jaskier had disappeared for the better part of two weeks. Scheduled everyone in, made sure payroll was cued to go properly, and just… vanished. He’d come back with a bloody lip and fear in his eyes, and Julia had been too heartsick to ask questions. That night they’d grieved Rue together, sitting next to one another and crying their eyes out. Jaskier had fallen asleep on their dinky little couch, and she’d tucked one of Rue’s crocheted blankets over him before she went to bed.

Since then Jaskier had been eerily quiet. At least, until Pride. After that his mood had been so pleasant that it was making Julia downright nervous. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, at last, it had.

Jaskier takes a few napkins out from under the bar top, passing them to Julia. They wipe their faces in sticky silence, and afterward, Julia pulls out a smoke and hands him one too. The click of her lighter is loud in the silent bar, echoing off the far walls.

“Can you imagine what she’d say about this mess?” he asks, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he shakes his head. His wide blue eyes turn up to take in the fairy lights over the bar, the smoke twisting among them.

“Oh! I can just imagine.” Julia chuckles damply, shaking her head. “She always said you found love in the strangest places.”

Jaskier smiles crookedly. “She’s not wrong.” Smoke drifts from the cigarette between his long fingers, swirling eddies forming as it rises.

Julia nods, then blows a slow, lazy smoke ring. “She’d say… don’t listen to your heart anymore. Don’t listen to your head. You’ve heard enough from them for now. Go find someplace quiet, where the silence can slip in through the cracks of you and fill you up. Sometimes the answer slips in alongside the silence."

The damp groan of chagrin that escapes Jaskier makes Julia smile. "That's right,” he replies, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I would say, I hate silence, it makes me nervous."

Julia nods, amused. "And she would say-" Jaskier's voice joined Julia's and they finished together, "There's your problem right there."

With a damp chuckle, Jaskier shakes his hair out of his eyes and blinks away the last of his tears. “Oh lord, Julia. I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Suffer.” Julia jokes, knocking back her gin. “Suffer and die, probably.”

“Crash and burn, at the very least.” Jaskier snorts. He knocks back his glass of rum, then rises at last from the bar. He stubs out his cigarette as he rises. Then, with a soft clinking, he gathers all the glasses and takes them back to the sink to wash. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the metal sink.

Julia turns to watch him, leaning her elbows against the counter. Her head tips to the side as she watches Jaskier dry the dishes, then start scrubbing at the already-clean sink. He takes sanitizer and sprays it on a towel, then starts trying to evict the microscopic grit left around the base of the faucet. After a while, she stirs. “You think this guy might be it?” she asks, her eyes soft as she tips her head to look at her friend.

Jaskier looks down at the wet towel dripping in his hands. “I don’t know. I just… he’s different. I feel really different around him. I think I want to try, but I’m trying to just...” He grimaces, tossing the towel into the bin with a little too much force. “Take a minute to look before I leap.”

Julia breaks into a wry smile, hazel eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “Good for you. Does that mean I’m gonna be staying late a few more nights?”

“Could you? I could use the company.” Jaskier looks at her out of the corner of his eye, moving on to wipe the counter.

Julia scoffs, but there’s a playful note in her voice. “Fine, but you gotta cough up those kreteks you've been teasing me with. You owe me.”

“Oh! I actually have those back at my house, thank you for reminding me!" Jaskier exclaims, smacking his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, I got you a whole case. They came in from Indonesia last week and I just spaced out about them what with everything else going on.”

Eyes lighting up, Julia socks Jaskier affectionately on the shoulder. “Hey! My man! That’s what I’m talking about.”

Jaskier laughs, rubbing his shoulder. “Anytime. It's the least I can do.”

Julia takes one last drag off of her cigarette, then turns to stub it out. “Listen. You want a ride home? It’s late.”

Jaskier wavers, then turns to look at the storeroom where his bike is. It’s a long ride home in the cold and dark, and he’s heartsick as all hell. It’s hard to turn her down. “Got room in your trunk for my bike?”

“Yep. No sweat. I’ll pull the car around front while you shut down.” Julia pats her pockets, making sure that her wallet, keys, and cigarettes are all in place.

By the time she’s parked in front, Jaskier is locking the door of the bar. They wordlessly wrestle the bike into the back of the car together, working with the ease of practice. In the car, Julia flips on the stereo and pops in a Patti Smith cassette. Patti’s smoky, dry voice floats through the car, twining through the bouncing and jangling guitar riffs of the opening song of the album. Oh, she looks so fine… I’m gonna uh-uh, make her mine…

They drive home in comfortable silence. Julia pulls up behind Jaskier’s car and parks. She eyes the white truck in the driveway silently, finishing her smoke as she considers it. Jaskier sits beside her, making no move to get out of the car. Finally, she stubs out her smoke and says, “Is that his?”

Jaskier nods. “Engine keeps overheating. He knows what’s wrong with it but I don’t have the tools for him to fix it, so it’s gonna stay there until I can get them for him. Honestly I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants, it all goes in my ear and then out the other. If he’d just let me take him to the store it would be fine but no-”

Putting her hand on the door, Julia eyes Jaskier kindly. “Kiddo, I don’t need every single detail. It’s his truck, I get it. Let’s go in.”

Jaskier puffs as he’s thrown off track. Then he smiles crookedly, face catching in a bar of orange light from the streetlamp outside. “Sorry. You go on in, I’ve got to bring the bike around back.”

Flourishing her keys, Julia nods. She ambles around the front of Jaskier’s house and unlocks his door, letting herself into the dark entryway. Flicking on the lights, she looks around. The place is uncannily clean and stinks of floor wax and furniture oil. Jaskier’s home usually looks a bit rumpled, like a bed that’s been slept in and then had the covers thrown back into place without being smoothed or tucked. Not dirty, precisely, but not clean. Lived in. This, though… she gives a low whistle under her teeth. Her friend had been understating the distress he’d been experiencing. His home didn’t get this tidy unless something really got under his skin.

She kicks her boots off and heads to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going, then snags a pudding out of the fridge. As she’s digging around for a spoon, she hears the jingle of keys announcing Jaskier’s arrival through the back door.

He notes the pudding cup in her hand and the very corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he slips past her to drop his bag in his bedroom. When he returns to the kitchen he smiles at her, leaning against the fridge.

“Better?” she asks, tearing open the plastic lid.

“Better,” Jaskier agrees, eyes dancing with a teasing light. “Still like the taste of stolen pudding?”

“Tastes better if you swipe it,” Julia grins unrepentantly. She settles on the stool with her pudding. “Gonna cough up those kreteks?”

Jaskier grins. “You’ve got it. Just a minute, darling. I have to figure out where I put them.” He turns on his foot and bounds off to the other end of his house, rummaging around until he remembers where he stuck the package. It turns out it’s still next to the front door in plain view, hidden on a shelf by the other oddities it’s been stuck on top of. Jaskier’s house is unusually clean, but it isn’t that clean. Making a triumphant noise, he grabs it and heads back towards Julia.

Pleased, Julia opens the case up in a few quick movements and takes out a carton. She flicks it open, smelling it with great satisfaction. The rich smell of clove and tobacco wafts up to her, and she sighs in contentment. “Ah, that’s the good shit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll order more tomorrow, you deserve them. Takes them a while to import but we should be seeing them in the next month or so.”

Julia laughs. “Man, I’m earning them signing up to listen to your shit like this. Go check your message machine, I ain’t subbing in for your therapist.”

Jaskier huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ve got it.” He pours himself a cup of coffee, then ambles over to the message machine and picks up the receiver. He punches in a code and waits, then jots something down on a pad of paper next to it with a brief smile flashing across his face. He turns back to Julia, wiggling the notepad at her. “Got an appointment tomorrow before I go to work. She shoehorned me into her lunch hour.”

“Huh,” Julia grunts, amused. “Better bring that poor woman lunch, she’s a saint for taking you back like that on short notice.”

Jaskier looks chagrined. He settles himself back on a stool with his back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, you're not wrong. Best kind of saint. I thought I’d bring her Thai from that place up on Market street. You know the one with the little golden treasure bag dumpling things?”

“Man, she gets treasure bags? Do I get some?” Julia teases.

“If you come hold my hand tomorrow, you get anything you want.”

“Mm, no dice. I’m doing enough hand-holding as it is. Speaking of which, you could still bring it to me at the bar...” she grins over her mug, eyes sparkling playfully.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and sighs. “Extortionist.”

“You love me,” she snorts.

“I do,” he breaks out into a smile, leaning against the island top with his elbows. “Thanks for running me home.”

Julia shifts in her seat and sighs, leaning forward onto her elbows and giving Jaskier a frank look. “I got you, it’s no problem. It’s not every day you get blown out of the water by something like this. You gonna be ok?”

Jaskier considers his mug with a thoughtful moue, then nods. “I think I am, Julia. I’m sorry about this morning, it won’t happen again.”

Smirking, Julia shrugs. “Just do better.”

Fluffing the hair on the back of his neck, Jaskier nods. “You got it.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, then asks, “How are you doing?” His voice is gentle as he asks the question, sensitive to the ongoing nature of her pain.

Julia shifts uneasily, squinting at her mug. “I dunno. I’m making it. Don’t wanna look for a new place yet, but I know it’s gonna be time soon.” She casts a short, hard-to-read look at Jaskier. She appreciates him asking, but she’s also not sure how much she wants to talk.

“When’s the lease up?” Jaskier asks, his eyes soft.

“Uhm…” Julia cleared her throat. “June.”

“Julia!" Jaskier gasps, exasperated. "That was over a month ago! You didn’t just sign a new one, did you? Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

“I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Julia growls, scowling.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t get all growly with me. You’re miserable there! Rue is all over that place, darling! I can barely turn around twice in there without bumping into something that breaks my heart, I don't know how you go and live there every day."

Julia presses her lips together, tapping her carton of kreteks between her fingers. She shrugs. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. All I have left is there."

Heart breaking a little, Jaskier sighs. He regards Julia kindly. "You can't hold on like that forever."

Scowling, Julia shrugs. That might be true, but she didn’t have to like it.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Jaskier looks her over for a moment. He hesitates, then says, "Why don't you just start looking? There's no harm in at least checking the paper…" he nudges her gently. "Worst that can happen is you don't fall in love with the first place you see. No harm, right?"

Julia shuffles uncomfortably, taking a big gulp of her coffee. She frowns at her cup, then looks out of the corner of her eye at Jaskier. “I can’t afford to break the lease.”

“Nonsense, you’ve got plenty of savings to cover shit like that,” Jaskier replies, still exasperated. “Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d cover you. You know that!”

“I know…” Julia grumbles, “But-”

“So what you mean is, you’re still stuck and you’re not ready to go yet.”

Julia scowls. She wants desperately to argue with him, to lash out and protect herself, but the impulse passes before the words can even form. She shrugs. “Maybe so.”

Jaskier sighs. “Julia darling, I’m convinced there’s a place in the world for you. Somewhere that will feel good and be just for you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone soon? Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger things can eat my ass,” Julia snaps.

Unimpressed, Jaskier shrugs. “Okay.” He pops open his pudding cup and spoons up a mouthful, sucking it off of his spoon thoughtfully. “Mm. Should you ever decide to come out of that suck-ass hedge-maze of grumpiness you’ve built for yourself I’ll be here. I love you, despite all your best efforts to turn into an unmanageable troll.”

“Oh what, and you’re Prince Charming?” Julia scoffs. “Puh-lease, you little drama queen.” They both eye each other for a moment, wavering, then break out in quiet laughter. Jaskier reaches over and pats her hand, and Julia smiles crookedly. She drains the last of her mug, then sets it down with a final-sounding ‘thunk.’ “All right, mijo. I won’t keep you talking all night. Thanks for the kreteks, I hope you work everything out. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Same goes for you, darling. My phone is always on for you, and my door is always open. I don’t care what time it is, if you need me you come. Ok?”

Julia eyes him uncertainly, then nods. She had taken him up on the offer before, showing up at odd hours eaten alive by grief and unable to be alone with it anymore. “Ok. See you tomorrow.” She punches his shoulder affectionately, then heads for the door.

“Good night, Julia. Safe drive, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~*~

Jaskier puts himself back together during the intervening days. He attends therapy, brings Julia her takeout, and things return to normal at the bar. Sunday morning he rides his bike, but this time he’s sober, more himself. At the end of the night, he pulls Julia to the side as she sighs in exasperation.

Jaskier gives her a sheepish smile, leaning back against one of the counters. “Sorry, I’m not going to keep you long tonight.”

“Yeah? Good, my fish are starting to worry I’m seeing someone new,” Julia cracks. “What’s up?” Her eyes travel to the closet where the bike is and back to him. “Car ok?”

“What?” He looks over his shoulder in the direction she’s indicating. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I just wanted to take a long ride tonight after work, maybe catch the sunrise out south of my house.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Geralt. I finally decided to call him. I think I’ve got my head on straight and I still wanna do it.”

Julia sucks her teeth thoughtfully. It’s sweet to see him excited, but she worries about his heart, too. He doesn’t always guard it as carefully as he should. “You sure? From what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like you’re lookin’ at a walk in the park. He’s married, he’s got a family halfway across the world, he’s in the closet…”

Jaskier sighs. “I know, Julia. I was there, I remember.”

Julia arches her eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment.

Jaskier chews his lip. “I know it’s probably stupid, and I know we could break each other’s hearts, but…” he ruffles his hand through his hair. “I don’t meet men like that every day. Besides. I will definitely regret it if I don’t at least see him one more time.”

Julia rolls her eyes, but a fond smile creeps across her tawny face. “I’ll give you wanting to see him again one more time, you two really should talk. Just try not to be a dumbass, ok? Go slow. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you’re not twenty anymore.”

The look on Jaskier’s face softens thoughtfully, and he nods. “I know. I’ll try to be good.”

“Good. Where are you planning on taking him? This doesn’t sound like public conversation material.”

“Well… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking maybe the best place would be the bar.”

“What, don’t want to use your house?” Julia asks dryly.

“Nnnoo, uh…” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, turning red.

“I get it.” Julia cuts him off with a quick gesture, smirking. “You wanna keep it on the up and up. Don’t you have somewhere else you could meet him though?”

“Mmm… I mean, there are some parks I could take him to, but that feels weird for a private conversation, you know?” Julia nods. Jaskier continues, “He’s staying with his wife at the hotel, and I feel like it would be rude to ask him to kick her out so we can talk. Most of my friends have these teeny apartments so I can’t exactly borrow space from them. The bar seemed like the best place.”

Julia hums, then nods. “I get it. Not like I have a porch I could offer you or anything.”

“Yeah. So…?”

Shrugging, Julia stuffs her keys into her pocket. “Go for it. Just don’t fuck all over the furniture or I’m gonna fire you,” she cracks.

Jaskier laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She might not be able to actually fire him, all joking aside, but Julia has a way of finding truly horrifying tasks to saddle him with. He isn’t about to try her and they both know it. He pushes off of the counter, then digs a faxed receipt out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “Kreteks are on the way, by the bye. Here’s the tracking number.”

Julia lights up, making grabby hands as Jaskier hands the receipt over. She scans it, then gives a satisfied smile and folds it up to stick in her wallet. “Great. All right, I’m gonna head outta here. Let me know how it goes, ok?”

“As if I’d leave you out of the loop,” Jaskier hums fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Am I gonna lose a hand if I try to hug you?”

“Yep,” Julia says with a chuckle. She reaches over and slaps Jaskier’s shoulder companionably on her way out the door. “Good night, mijo.”

“Good night, Julia. Drive safe.” Jaskier says to her retreating back, smiling. He turns away as the kitchen door swings shut and makes one last circuit of the bar. When he gets outside he closes up; there is a satisfying click as the tumblers lock into place. It has been a good night, and tomorrow is full of possibilities.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #yenralt #geraskier pride week 2020 #warriors blues

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

how to remember • ben hanscom

(ben hanscom x plus size!reader)

requested: Hi! Can I request a Ben Hanscom x plus size reader, if you're ok with that? The reader is the youngest member of the losers club who had a crush on Ben. When the losers reunite she realises that she still like him but believes that he would never go with her. Angst with a fluffy ending, thanks!

i love ben! i hope u enjoy!!

warning: swearing, a little angst, fluff :) also unedited

[everyone’s aged up! this takes place during chapter 2]

2.1k words

♡

you walk into the back room of the jade of the orient apprehensively, totally unsure of that's going to happen or, frankly, who's even waiting for you on the other side of the wall. you walk into the room to find three men who turn and look at you. you blink at their familiar and yet strange faces - you feel completely removed from them and yet somehow completely connected. you recognize mike hanlon, who had called you last night to summon you. there was a pit in your stomach. "y/n." mike says, and you pull him into a hug, smiling into his shoulder.

"m-mike." you stutter, memories of a smiling, laughing boy driving you around in his pickup truck and stargazing with you on your roof coming back to you slowly. "y/n?" you hear and you stare at the two, your face melting into a grin as you recognize them, "eddie? bill?" you ask and they laugh in disbelief. you pull them in for hugs, remembering all those late nights on bill's roof, building forts and playing chicken with eddie and so many childhood memories previously abandoned.

a gong makes you all jump and turn towards the entrance of the room. your jaw drops as eddie calls out something stupid. you're distracted though, because your world has just stopped.

first, it's just a name. ben hanscom.

next, you lock eyes with a man and his eyes make flashes of blushing grins, old books, walk-mans, and laughter fill your memory. you can't breathe.

and then, memories hit you like a ton of fucking bricks. you blanch, feeling your chest fill with ice. ben's lost a lot of weight and has definitely gained some back in muscle. he looks relatively the same, though. the same kind eyes, the same smile, the same soft voice that you fell in love with-

holy shit.

you had loved him. it all comes back to you and as he pulls you into a tight hug, his hand rubbing your back the way it always used to, you almost want to cry.

you remember when you met him, that summer in '98 when you'd made the blood oath. you can't remember why you were all there in the sewers of derry, or why all you can recall are feelings complete terror and fear; but you can remember ben's jokes, the way he used to walk you home, and the years that you and him spent together with the others in the clubhouse at the middle school, and then the high school.

you remember how shy you used to feel whenever richie would tease the two of you. you remember in high school how ben would drive you to and from school since you didn't get your license until a year after them, or the hours you spent hanging around the library with ben during his shifts, messing around with eddie or reading patiently for ben to clock out.

you remember the hours that you spent in anxiety and self disappointment over an unrequited love. ben was ben, and you were just you.

and you remember how lost you were when they all left. you were a year younger, so when they graduated and left to meet all of their separate futures, you were stuck in the awful town by yourself, not sure if you'd ever see them again. you barely remember saying goodbye to him, wanting to tell him you loved him but knowing he could never love you back. but you vaguely remember that you'd given him the photo that'd been taken of you guys in the photo booth at the arcade as a parting gift, your cheeks wet as he promised he'd come back and visit.

he never did, though.

but now, ben pulls away from your hug and effectively breaks the trance you'd been lulled into. "it's been so long," he says warmly. "you look just how i remember you." he says softly and certainly not unkindly. but your stomach still twists at his words, that familiar insecurity creeping up on you. "oh, yeah." you say with a fake laugh, trying not to look hurt by his words as you tuck your hair behind your ear. "you- um, you look great." you say with a smile. he returns it, "so do you, y/n/n."

you still get butterflies when he uses your childhood nickname.

"y/n." you hear in a whisper, and you turn to see beverly marsh - how could you have ever forgotten her? she pulls you into a tight hug, just like she used to when you were younger. your heart hurt.

the dinner was going smoothly, all of you downing drinks and rowdily spewing out your childhood memories right when they came to you. "didn't... y/n, didn't you work at that one diner? and haystack used to always play new kids on the block on the jukebox!" richie says, pointing to you. you raise your eyebrows as you remember, "wow, yeah... i got fired because i wouldn't wear the uniform." you say, remembering with a sheepish expression.

you'd stopped trying to fit into the ugly uniforms that your shitty manager made everyone wear, because he refused to buy them in the size that fit you. he'd said that you needed to 'solve the problem himself,' and you'd felt like shit for his words. it was terrible, but nobody else who worked there stood up for you. to them you were a loser, of course.

but you also remember when you'd told the losers and stan had gotten so mad that he'd started tearing up, richie and eddie went to egg the diner, bev and mike dumped shakes on the floor in front of the manager, and mike and bill had sent countless letters filled with very... untasteful doodles of the manager on them. he'd also reported him, though, and the losers actually got him fired. it was good to know that they were always there for you, even though you felt awful after what had happened - but they helped you learn to love yourself.

you remember that ben had found you the night you'd been fired, sitting at the quarry with tears leaking out of your eyes. he hadn't done anything except put his arm around you, letting you cry as he rubbed your back. he'd brought cookies and so you shared them under the moonlight and you remember thinking that you were invincible, the eight of you. forever.

now, as richie brings up ben's weight loss, you play with your fork on your plate, feeling hollow. you were so happy and very glad (although nervous) to be back with them. you watch as bev and ben catch eyes and you suddenly realize that even if you still love him, it doesn't matter.

for the same reason it never would have mattered if you'd said those words all those years ago. you couldn't be enough for him.

ben was just as perfect now as he was then - passionate, dedicated, teasing but in a gentle way, and above all caring. as you and the others reminisce in your memories, you accept that you'll never get to be with ben, and you feel like you're living through this heartbreak all over again.

as you pace in the lobby of the inn, you run your hands through your hair and try to calm your breathing. stan was gone. he was gone, you'd been attacked by fucking demon fortune cookies, and you just remembered your entire childhood. including the terrorizing demon clown who ate children and tried to kill you when you were thirteen. how did you guys get through that? you can't believe anything that's happening. "y/n." ben's voice makes you snap your head up, your breathing ragged. "y-yeah?" you ask, your voice cracking. you clear your throat though, nodding to yourself. this is okay, you've gotten through so much shit in your life, you can get through this too.

"so...you were a year younger right?" ben asks, making you look up. you nod, resisting the urge to point out that you still are. he takes a breath, "what- uh, what happened when i left? i can't remember why we didn't keep in touch."

you feel sick to your stomach and you shrug dejectedly, "i don't really remember. i didn't really talk to anybody my senior year because.... well... you guys were all gone and never called. i didn't understand what had happened, but everyone else in town..." you trail off. ben knows just as well as you that the people in derry did not take kindly to the losers club, especially back in those times when people's bodies could make them an easy target. it was fucked up. "yeah, i don't really remember much." you finish. it's quiet for a moment.

"i don't understand how i could have forgotten you." he says quietly, sounding bewildered. you blush but you shake your head. "it's not your fault. something weird happens when you leave this town." you say, eyes trained on your legs. you wanted to cry. "what, and that makes it okay?” ben says softly, sitting next to you on the staircase. your stomach hollows when his hand falls on your back, just like old times, and you shake your head. "well, i guess." you mutter, shrugging. you never really looked at it from that perspective.

"i'm so, so sorry." he says and you shake you're head. this was all too much. the boy that you loved - the man that you still love - is sitting next to you, right there for you to hold. you've lost him once before and you never want that to happen again, but you know he's not yours to hold.

you pull your face into your hands, shaking your head. "y/n, what's wrong? i mean- today has been crazy, i get it. how can i help?" he asks and you want to chuckle and scream and cry all at once. he's still the same kind and caring person, even after all this time. "it's okay, ben. i'm sorry, this is just... a lot." your voice is watery and weak.

"i keep trying to remember all this stuff from back then... but all i can remember is being around you. you were the most amazing kid, y/n. i looked up to you so much, you were so full of life and you were so funny, i just feel like... i just-" he cuts himself off, rubbing his face with his hand. your

"hey, it's okay, ben. it's me, i'm no stranger." you say lightly, making you both chuckle at the irony of your statement. but your smiles melts and you realize you're becoming too hopeful, knowing you're about to have your heart broken as he opens his mouth.

“y/n...i feel like i've missed out on a whole lifetime with you.” he says quietly. your stomach flips as you look at him, his hand coming up to your cheek. your eyes meet and his honey ones are searching yours for something, desperation and adoration swimming through them. "ben, what are you saying?" you whisper, watching as his eyes flicker to your lips and your stomach flutters like you were about to have your first kiss all over again.

"i'm saying i think i've loved you since we were thirteen." he says with a swallow and you beam. he's still staring at you and you bite your lip. "ben, i love you too." you whisper. he smiles, his hand rubbing your cheek with a fond smile.

he leans in slowly, allowing time for you to lean back, but as soon as your lips are touching he's surging forward, pressing his body to yours. his lips are warm and soft on yours and you almost want to cry. you feel like even though everything is crazy, ben is the one constant - he's the one that got away. but he's here now, he loves you, he always has, despite everything. or because of everything. he kisses you like he loves you. you know he does.

"oh, hey! this is new." a voice breaks the peace as eddie's feet land in front of you. as you and ben pull away from each other, you're both grinning sheepishly but you're slightly annoyed that eddie interrupted you. eddie plows through in his classic panicked fashion. "hate to bother you, but can you guys come in here for a sec? we've got a little problem." he says breathlessly. you roll your eyes but ben stands, watching as eddie walks back into the other room.

he pulls you up and towards his chest and you blush darkly at your proximity. he leans towards you again though, catching your lips with his in a deep, passionate kiss. his hands fall to your hips, pulling you even closer and you try not to gasp at the feeling of his lips on yours. your hands wrap around his neck and you pull away, biting your lip as you look at him. he smiles at you, whispering softly, "let's go," before slipping his hand into yours and following eddie.

you waited more than thirty years for this, and you think it was worth every fucking second.

#ben hanscom #ben hanscom x reader #stanley uris #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #richie tozier #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #losers #the losers club #losers club x reader #my writing

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lauras-collection · 5 years

Text

More Than I Know [Part 4]

Tom Holland x female Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You arrive at the wedding location and bump into someone you didn’t expect to be there.

Words: almost 2.2k

Warnings: swearing, nothing else I think (let me know if there is anything in there that I should add)

A/N: I’m so excited about everything that’s going to happen in the next few parts! I hope you enjoy this one!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Today was the day. Today, you and Tom were going to drive to your sister’s wedding location. Kate and Daniel were basically doing a ‘wedding weekend’. Of course, your sister would do something extra like that. Everyone would arrive today, Friday, the wedding was tomorrow and on Sunday Kate insisted to do a post-wedding brunch with the immediate family, that included you and Tom. So as soon as you would arrive at the hotel you would have to pretend to be a loving couple until leaving on Sunday.

You were packing your suitcase when the doorbell rang. After putting the shirt you had been folding down you walked to the front door. You were greeted with a smiling Tom when you opened the door.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Tom asked and your eyes widened. Was it already that late? You turned your head to check the clock on the living room wall. “Relax, I’m messing with you. I’m early. I hope that’s okay.” A sheepish grin was on his face now and you couldn’t be mad at him. You let out a relieved breath.

“Of course, come in. I’m still packing.” You started walking back to your room. Tom following behind you. “And I’m kind of freaking out. We can’t mess this up. What if someone notices that we’re just faking it? Someone’s bound to notice, right? Why would you ever be with someone like me?” You stopped walking and looked at him abruptly. “You know what? Let’s just stay here and not go at all. Saves me a lot of embarrassment.” You were pacing now. Tom gently grabbed your arms to stop you.

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Stop that.” He turned you to look at him. “We’re going to the wedding. And your family believed us right? And these are the people that know you the best. The people that matter. Everyone else can think what they want. And just for the record, why wouldn’t someone want to be with you?”

You huffed and looked at him, and all you could see in his eyes was honesty. You shook your head to try and get all the negative thoughts out of your head. You ignored Tom’s question and entered your bedroom. Tom followed you and leaned against your dresser while you continued folding your clothes.

“Is that your dress?” Tom pointed at the garment bag hanging from your mirror. You nodded and watched as Tom walked towards the item, opening the zipper a little bit to get a peak. “Looks fancy.” He comments before closing the zipper again.

“It’s my sister’s wedding, obviously it’s fancy.” You chuckled and closed your suitcase turning to look at Tom who was leaning against your dresser again. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans, his hair curly and natural like the day you met him. A small smile made its way on your face. He looked so soft, you wanted to wrap your arms around him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tom asked with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t know. Your hoodie looks so cosy I just wanna...” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“C’mere then.” He opened his arms with a soft smile and made grabby hands at you. You walked towards him, your arms wrapping around his torso. You let out a content sigh and Tom wrapped his arms around you, lightly rubbing your back.

“I was right. This is super cosy.” You mumbled causing Tom’s chest to rumble with a chuckle. One of his hands moved to play with your hair and it took everything in you not to sigh again. You felt all the stress inside you fade away. You stood like this for a while until Tom ran his hand over your head one last time, letting you know it was time to go.

It usually took about two hours to get to the place where Kate and David were getting married. But because it was a Friday afternoon the streets were busy and you were stuck in a massive traffic jam. After about an hour you both decided it was time for food so Tom exited the motorway and drove to the nearest drive-thru. It didn’t look to be the best place to get your food but you were both hungry and there was nothing else close enough.

After you told Tom that you’d like a chicken burger he ordered for the two of you. When you arrived at the window, the cashier looked at Tom bewildered for a moment before uttering “You’re Spider-Man!”

Tom chuckled lightly, nodding “I am.” The boy handed Tom the takeaway bag and Tom passed it on to you.

“Can we take a selfie?” He looked at Tom excitedly.

“Of course, man.” Tom posed for the photo and then reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Oh no. You don’t have to pay. You’re Spider-Man! My treat!”

Tom paid no attention to the boy’s words and handed him the money.

“Keep the change.” Tom smiled and the boy just looked dumbfounded. You could only grin at the situation. With a final goodbye and a wave, Tom continued driving, heading back towards the motorway.

“That was sweet.” You smiled, removing half of the wrapping of Tom’s burger and handing it to him. He took a bite while concentrating on the traffic. You couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked casually driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding the half-unwrapped fast-food burger. His elbow placed on the armrest in-between the two of you, his gaze fixed on the street.

“Happens quite a lot recently.” He finally said after swallowing. “It’s pretty cool. Especially when they call me Spider-Man.” He chuckled and took another bite. You unwrapped your own burger and took a bite as well letting out a content sigh.

“Enjoy this meal because after this we’ll only get fancy food for the rest of the weekend.” You said and Tom scrunched up his face.

“Ew, gross.” And you both had to laugh.

***

When you finally reached the hotel you would be staying at, Tom parked his car. The hotel looked like an old castle and was surrounded by nothing but trees. There was nothing around for the next couple of miles. You hopped out of the car, shaking out your legs. You did a little dance to regain the feeling in your butt cheeks, the gravel crunching under your sneakers. Tom laughed at you as he opened the car boot to get out your suitcases.

“What? My butt was numb.” You chuckled as well and opened the back door to get the garment bags that Tom had hung there.

“Y/N! Tom! You made it!” You heard your mum exclaim as she came running from the hotel’s entrance. You couldn’t even greet her before she had engulfed you in a hug and placed kisses on both your cheeks.

“Yeah, traffic was crazy. It took us three and a half hours.” You finally said as your mum moved on to greet Tom with a hug.

“Oh really? You two must be starving! Come on in. I’m sure the kitchen can make you a little something before dinner.”

“That’s alright, mum. We got something on the way. Can we just go to our room?” You asked and your mum nodded eagerly, leading you inside the hotel so you could check-in. A few minutes later you were standing in front of your hotel room. You held the key card in front of the scanner to unlock the door. When the light turned green you pushed the door open to a small but cosy room. After you held the door open for Tom so he could push your luggage inside, you closed the door and let your eyes roam the room. There were two armchairs on the right side of the entrance, the bathroom on the left. And in the middle of the room, a double bed. Of course, there would be only one bed.

Tom seemed to have noticed the look on your face. “I can sleep in one of the armchairs. Or the bathtub.” You looked at him quickly. Was he serious?

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re two adults, I think I can handle sharing a bed with you.” You laugh and nudge his shoulder. “Or do you not want to share a bed with me?”

“I do.” Tom was quick to answer. “I mean, I don’t mind.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay. That’s settled then.”

***

After getting ready and another pep talk from Tom, the two of you made your way to join your family and the other wedding guests for dinner. Dinner was taking place in the big dining room of the hotel. As you entered you were amazed at how luxurious everything looked. You had joined Kate and David when touring the location, but the decoration made everything look so much fancier. Everything was either white or gold and stood in beautiful contrast with the quaint architecture of the building. The chandelier bathed the whole room in warm yellow light and you felt like you were in a movie.

“Wow, this looks incredible.” Tom let out and you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. They’ve really outdone themselves.” Tom took your hand and pulled you towards your sister who was standing among a small group of wedding guests.

“Hi, Kate. This looks incredible.” Tom said, greeting your sister with a hug while you were still gaping at the decorations. Initially, Kate wanted you to be part of the whole wedding planning but as soon as you noticed that Kate knew exactly what she wanted, you felt redundant and backed down from the planning. Now, you were happy because you experience the whole wedding without connecting it to the stress of planning it, unlike your mother.

“Thank you, Tom! I know, isn’t it amazing?” She replied while giving you a hug as well. “Doesn’t it look even better than when we toured it?”

“Yes! I didn’t know it was possible, but wow! I didn’t know we were attending a royal wedding.” You were teasing, but it could easily have been a royal wedding.

“You’ve always known I’m a princess.” Kate stuck her tongue out towards you.

“Yeah. My princess.” Daniel, who had heard the last part of your conversation, said and wrapped his arms around his bride. He gave Kate a kiss on the cheek before greeting both you and Tom.

“Why don’t you guys find your seats? It’s almost time for dinner. There are name tags at the tables.”

While you looked for your names on the name tags, you noticed a familiar face that you hadn’t expected to run into at your sister’s wedding.

“What the– What’s he doing here?” You let out in a breath causing Tom to look at you. He followed your line of vision.

“An ex-boyfriend?” He asked with raised eyebrows.

“Something like that.” Your gaze was still fixed on the back of the blonds head.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tom sounded concerned so you turned to look at him.

“Maybe later. When we’re alone.” You smiled at him softly. The moment you had turned to Tom the blond had spotted you and made his way over.

“Y/N! What a surprise to see you!” He wrapped his arms around you in a hug, his hands rubbing your back before letting go of you again.

“Joe. Are you aware that you’re at my sister’s wedding?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Of course that was stupid of me.” He laughed, his grey eyes moving over your face, not even acknowledging Tom who’s arm was now moving around your waist sensing your discomfort. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been excellent. This is Tom by the way.” You said and mimicked Tom’s position by twining your arm around his waist. “My boyfriend.”

Joe looked down on Tom as he shook his hand. Joe was about five inches taller than Tom and had always prided himself with his height like he had an active part in becoming so tall.

“Oh yeah. I read all about it on the internet. Found someone better than me, huh?” You could only let out a huff at his words.

“It’s not like you wanted me.” You squinted at him and felt Tom squeeze your waist a bit, his thumb slowly caressing you over the fabric of your blouse. “Now if you’ll excuse us, dinner is about to be served.” You moved further along the tables without another glance at Joe until you saw your name next to Tom’s written on the small pieces of card-stock. The two of you sat down and Tom noticed that you kept looking at Joe with a frown on your face.

“D’you want to give him a show?” Tom nodded towards him and you broke into a smile.

“Hell yes.”

Part 5

Thank you so much for reading 💕

Taglist:

@jackiehollanderr // @alicethestral // @snowxbarryxendgame // @van-horn-dashner // @sltwins // @yeahimcrying // @ohhhotstan // @heathera101x // @xxnomercy // @bbyxk // @infamousmany // @zabdisamor // @starsholland

Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the taglist :)

#tom holland au #tom holland x reader #reader insert #tom holland fluff #fake dating #more than i know #my writing #mine

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eastendies · 4 years

Text

So y'all know I have an Antisocial Personality Disorder!AU and I'm writing the first chapter so I got bored and instead decided to write smth I had in mind a bit farther on, Ben and Callum actually being in a relationship and Callum trying to get Ben into therapy.

So here is a blip of Chp. 5ish as Ben confronts Callum for being a jackass, and for once it actually devolves in a way that doesn't involve hate sex. Okay, maybe a little.

---

It hit Ben like a freight train. His heart was torn under the wheels, his ears screamed with the whistle of blood, everything breaking and crashing as he looked up Callum, his boyfriend. The person who swore he could trust him. The one whose eyes, previously concerned and twisted into the most genuine fear he had seen, flicked over his face as the realization boiled his mind into something new--blank, preparing for war. That there was enough proof of guilt that Ben could have stormed out and never spoken to Callum again. But there was no guilt in his eyes. And it drove him crazy.

It came out softly. “You manipulated me.”

Callum’s mouth opened, but to his credit, he had enough respect to close it and reconsider whatever lies he was about to say next. Ben could see the wheels turning in the taller man’s head as he bit his lip. But he didn’t deny it.

“You tricked me into seeing your therapist. Into thinking I was crazy.”

At that Callum’s blank face changed in some guarded, hurt way Ben could never name. “I didn’t make you think you were crazy--”

“Because you think that I am crazy.”

“No I--having a disorder doesn’t make you crazy, Ben! Needing help doesn’t make you crazy!” Whatever tactic the sociopath in front of him wanted to take broke down as anger shown through, and Ben knew, at the very least, that much was genuine. “You weren’t acting normal, and--”

“And what?! That gives you the right to control my life?” Ben took a step back when his boyfriend stepped towards him, and the world was becoming dizzy and horrible and filled with the shifting lies from the angry eyes of the man he let himself care about. Value. “I don’t need to see a fucking therapist, and I don’t need you to decide what I need or who I am or if I’m fucking crazy!” Ben’s eyes searched wildly around the room for his coat; he needed out. The walls were closing in.

The other man must have sensed his intent to leave as alarm was laced into his voice, stifled with a suppressed bewilderment and frustration. “Ben, you can’t deny that you have issues--”

“We all have issues!”

“Most of us don’t go around being a criminal, Ben! Or staying with an abusive dad who treats you like absolute garbage,” utter hatred and contempt filled the sociopath's voice, and Ben felt bile rising in his gut as he felt a small push to blindly defend his father. He shoved it down, gripping onto the couch. “You have a lot of issues, a lot like when I first started seeing treatment.” Callum’s voice became softer, and it hurt. It dragged nails across his skin and pierced his heart because his voice never sounded that true and real and like he mattered. That this mattered. His boyfriend stepped closer, just a little bit, and Ben let him. Because if Callum wanted to manipulate him, he wouldn’t do it like this. “You know how much it helped me. I’m not exactly the pinnacle of mental health,” Ben’s lips flicked up at that, and a bit of triumph stuck in Callum’s eyes (it was soft, not a prize), “but I can stay around people. I can help them. I can think of them as people. My dad…” Callum's voice choked, and Ben knew he had tried to push too far. He let the other man gain his breath back. “It helped. And I knew it could work for you. And I know you’re hurt and you’re hurting and you need help, don’t pretend that everything is okay.” More authoritarian now, the previous frustration showing through. If Callum didn’t care, Ben reasoned, finally meeting the other’s mangled eyes, he wouldn't have put so much effort into seeming sincere. He could see in the way his shoulders tensed how much Ben’s outrage baffled him right now.

“And that makes it all okay?” He tried to be quiet. He should have been louder. Not sound like the weaklings Callum sometimes talked about.

“I--”

“Why even do all this?” His voice was sharper now. “Don’t pretend like you care. I know you don’t. You’ve told me. Your stupid therapist told me.” Bitter, biting. His arms were crossed, tight.

“Because I fucking VALUE you!” Ben jumped out of his skin as Callum almost screamed, frustration and anger riddled and bored into every surface of how he gestured on, like he wanted to shake Ben until his brains were scrambled enough to understand. “Just because I don’t feel empathy doesn’t mean I don’t fucking CARE about you! Do you think I would do all of this,” he gestured throughout the room, “or even be your boyfriend if I didn’t think you were worth it?! Because I do, and I did, and I try to do all this caring stuff that doesn’t mean anything to me because I want you to be happy! Because that makes me happy.” Ben’s eyes stayed widened, words beating in his ears over and over. “This--maybe--” Callum had to regather himself, gesturing near his head, “I reasoned that you being in therapy would mean an overall enjoyment of happiness, and yeah, its crude math, but it makes sense and it’s all part of this cognitive empathy I’m trying, so you can say a lot of stuff about what I did,” Callum pointed towards him, towards his heart, “but don’t fucking say it was because I didn’t care. Alright?” Quieter, and the rare vulnerability that flashed on his face blinked out as Callum gained control over it, breathing heavily. Blank.

His arms hurt from how his fingers dug in. He could hear Callum’s words beat in his heart and in his brain and in his ears, and he had to hold onto his previous anger to stay alive.

Because that was the first time Callum said he cared. In his own, different way. In the Callum way.

“You still manipulated me. You lied.”

“And?”

“I don’t like that. You know that,” Ben bit back, voice a bit exasperated. “We said no lies.”

“You lie to me sometimes. Said you’d get milk yesterday.” Ben had to fight back the flick of his lips. No.

“That’s not the same.”

“I know.” There was a second of pause, the second in which he knew Callum was trying to process what to say. “I know that makes you feel hurt,” it came out slowly, like he hadn’t practiced in a while, “and I’m sorry you’re hurt. Like I said, big fan of happy Ben, me.”

Ben opened his mouth, but instead he broke out into the smile he had been fighting back, and sat down on the couch he had been next to, hands interlaced and gripping each other. “I think that was the most healthy conversation we’ve had in weeks.”

“Maybe months.” Callum’s voice didn’t change, but Ben didn’t have to look at Callum to see he was approaching this cautiously. That he wasn’t too far away, but close enough to pounce. To touch. “But we can still have hate sex if you want,” Callum offered, head knocked to the side and eyebrows raised in that stupid, dumb way he did to make himself seem serious. God, he really could manipulate him without even trying. But he still didn’t come closer. Waiting for the verdict.

“Don’t tempt me, you know how hot you look when you’re angry,” Ben flirted back, maybe on habit, but his voice was still exasperated, looking at Callum with a raised eyebrow.

Everything about Callum screamed, ‘what does that MEAN,’ but he still managed a smile and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Of course, men and women alike are lining up to make out with a pissed off sociopath. Really turns them on.” His nose scrunched. “Nevermind, that’s probably an actual fetish. Is that why you started dating me?” His voice was a bit too hopeful for Ben’s taste, but he swallowed it down; he wanted to keep this blip of sanity.

“Yeah. The other half is your cheekbones.” Callum’s head ducked in a smile, in a more sincere, gentle way. (He could tell it was real because it was about Callum, that glow always stayed with him with compliments. Narcissistic bastard, right?) Ben looked downward, studying Callum’s floorboards.

“So?” The other man couldn’t take it anymore, suspense and some impatience lacing his voice. “Are we...okay?” Like he couldn’t wait for this all to be over and done with.

“No. Not anywhere close to okay.” Ben made sure to meet his boyfriend’s eyes as he said it, breathing steady and eyes serious. Callum didn’t fall apart at that news ( as Ben knew he himself would have). But his face did close a little, more blank, eyebrows straighter. “You lied to me, severely, and I’m gonna need time. To process.” Callum nodded, hands still in his pockets, though his head hung a little. “And I’m still mad at you. Just because your intentions were not...completely self motivated, doesn’t mean I am just okay with it.” Frustration blipped by, as Ben knew it would. But Callum still stayed silent. Until he didn’t.

“And the therapy?” Ben could practically hear him trying to push him towards the end result he still wanted, so this tangle of emotions wasn’t a huge waste of his time. But, at least to Callum’s credit, he tried to hide it. That respect was something he and Ben and to build up with mortar and bricks and time, so Ben took the small victory. Softer, “It can help, Ben.”

“I know that!” Callum’s face closed up more. The shorter man had to look down at the floorboards again. “I’m--I’ll think about it. But I’ll do it on my own and reach my own conclusion; you’re not involved in this anymore.” Because Callum cared about him. Valued him. Wanted to him to be happy. Wanted to spend time with him. Wanted Ben to be Ben, just for him. And there was no way his sap of a heart, having won a war, could not be a bit lenient in sentencing. Yeah, it was messed up, but so was he. So were they. “Okay?”

Callum looked at him, really looked at him, for a second. He could tell that he was bewildered, frustration knocked on the floor, but patience lingered in his eyes when Ben tore their gaze apart. “Okay,” the softer voice came, and Callum stepped towards him, sitting next to him on the couch, far enough apart for Ben’s walls not to come crashing down, crushing them both, but close enough to whisper through the prison windows. There.

Because dating a sociopath was kind of hard. It wore down his defense and screamed in his ears and held him at night, but Callum was still there, eyes waiting for him to look up, and as Ben rifled through the options of life (was Callum right? Was he crazy? Could he breathe anymore?) that’s all he really ever wanted.

#eastenders #ballum #ben mitchell #callum highway #ee #ben x callum #aspd!callum #aspd!au #sociopathy au #ee fanfiction #ballum fanfic #chp 5 #not the final version but i wrote this and i thought it was okay so validate me

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 18 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hieeee babies! We are so excited to share this very dramatic chapter with you! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Monday morning madness when Violet discovered that Courtney screwed up the Fashion Week confirmations.

This Chapter: Courtney faces the music, we meet a very determined reporter, and Violet loses her shit.

***

“Hey gorgeous! To what do we owe the honor of this visit?” Alaska asked cheerfully.

Courtney stepped forward, into Alaska’s office. Even the charming decor, which usually filled Courtney with happiness, did nothing to alleviate the guilt that was pressing down on her lungs.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Shit, sounds serious,” Alaska said. “Okay, have a seat.”

Courtney sat, biting her trembling lip and taking in a shaky, shallow breath.

“They didn’t send you down here to fire me, did they?” Alaska giggled, then realized that Courtney wasn’t laughing along and grew slightly more somber, folding her hands. “What’s wrong, honey?”

She was just so nice, and it made Courtney hate herself even more.

“I...really messed up.”

“How so?” Alaska looked genuinely concerned, which only made Courtney feel worse.

“Um…” There was no way around it except biting the bullet. “I was handling the Fashion Week confirmations, but…” Courtney took a deep breath. “I missed some of the tabs on the spreadsheet, and so I didn’t reach out to people until this morning and some of them have taken other jobs.”

“You ‘missed tabs’?” Alaska repeated, her voice filled with disbelief.

“Yeah, I just...I didn’t see that there was more than one, so-”

Alaska sighed heavily, letting out a small, aggravated sound, before asking, “So then...okay, how bad is it?”

“Um…”

“How many people are unavailable, Courtney?”

Courtney handed over the pages in her hands, unable to look Alaska in the eye. She just couldn’t face the disappointment and anger that she knew would be on her face right now. She pressed her lips together, still trying to hold back the flood of tears, cheeks burning hot with shame, as Alaska looked over the lists.

“Jesus christ…” she muttered, then picked up the phone. “Kim? Hi, it’s me. Sooooo, there was a bit of a snafu with some of the Fashion Week staff and we need to pull names for alternates...Uh huh...Probably at least 15—...I know, I know. I’m sorry, this is...Yeah, you know what? Get me some recommendations from Yara Sofia, and I’ll see who’s working some of the shows 2 days before...Yeah, let’s make some calls and then reconvene in 30...Okay...Yeah, I get it, I’m sorry...Bye.”

“I’m so sorry, Alaska,” Courtney said. “I don’t know how I could have been so careless. But...please just tell me what I can do to help you guys-”

“I think you’ve done enough. You should go.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat and standing up. Telling herself that she just had to get to the bathroom before letting any tears fall.

Without another word, she turned and ran, racing blindly for the nearest restroom, where she locked herself into a stall and finally let herself fall apart, crying like the useless baby that she was. What was she doing in this job? Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to trust her with so many important tasks for such a huge company? How come, no matter how hard she tried, she was just never able to stay on top of it all?

A few minutes later, she heard the door open and heels click softly as they walked towards her.

She tried to get ahold of herself, especially once she saw the houndstooth pumps under the stall door, but it was no use.

“Courtney.”

“Y-yes?”

“This sucks. Okay? And it’s gonna be a huge headache to fix, and just something we really didn’t need today on top of everything else we’re dealing with—”

“I know,” Courtney said, breath hitching.

“—but...we’ll manage. Okay? So stop beating yourself up, and just do better in the future. I know you can.” Alaska paused before adding, “You’re better than this one mistake.”

Something about her kindness, even after all that, made Courtney lose it even more. A sob escaped her chest, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Enough of this, okay?” Alaska said. “Take a minute, then wash your face and come back to my office. I have a job for you.”

***

Courtney knocked tentatively on Alaska’s open door. She’d managed to pull herself together, and though everything in head was screaming to turn and run--from this company, from this job, from the silly dreams that kept her in this country--she’d forced herself to return and face the music.

“Sit.” Alaska pointed to a spot on the sofa, where a phone and a blank notepad were lined up on the coffee table. “Violet said that we could borrow you for the afternoon, so you can help us get out of this mess. I’ve emailed you the contact info for a bunch of makeup artists and hairstylists. You need to find out their availability, and if they have recommendations. If they’re free, tell them we’ll return with confirmation and a deal memo by the end of the day.”

Courtney nodded, sitting down and eagerly getting to work, relieved that she could have a small part of the solution.

“And Courtney…”

“Yes?” Courtney looked back up at her.

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not Violet,” Courtney muttered, almost as a reflex, and Alaska burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding? Violet’s been here for over a year now, but when she first got the job, that office was a mess. Everyonemakes mistakes. Trust me. The real test is what you do afterwards.”

“Thanks, Alaska,” said Courtney, looking up at her with a smile for the first time all day.

“No problem. Now get to work!”

Courtney grinned, lifting the receiver and dialing the first number on her list. It took them almost 4 hours (and a bribe from Kim’s favorite sushi place to keep everyone working through lunch), but they eventually found people for all of the positions. When they finally finished, Courtney headed back upstairs to print out all the signed deal memos and update the spreadsheet with their new staff.

Violet was gone, having accompanied Fame to a meeting at Saks, but she’d left something wonderful behind on Courtney’s desk—not one, but two Fashion Week party invitations, with a yellow Post-It note with the word “sorry” written on it.

Courtney picked up her phone, sending a text to Violet with just the word ‘thanks.’

***

Willam hated his boss.

He hadn’t always. When he first got the job at OK!, Detox had been almost like a hero to him. But as the months wore on, and story after story got tossed or ripped to shreds or cut down to a two-line caption for some stupid photo collage, the resentment had built up to the point where he felt physical anger every time he saw Detox, or his stupid face, or his hideous yellow hair.

It just wasn’t fair. Willam knew that he was a more talented reporter, and a smarter person, than anyone else on staff. But in the meeting today, Rhea’s idiotic idea about a spread on celebrity foodstagrams had gotten praise, whereas he’d gotten chewed out, treated like garbage, all for pursuing a story that Detox failed to understand. Or worse, was actively trying to cover up.

“Hey bro. You alright?” Rhea asked, poking her head in the door.

“No. And fuck off,” Willam spat, turning to his computer.

“Ooh, someone’s maaad…” Rhea didn’t take the hint at all, slipping into the office and shutting the door behind her.

“I mean it, Rhea, get the fuck out of here.”

“Awww, it’s okay. I can handle your wittle tantrum, baby,” she said mockingly. “You need a snacky? Juice box? A wittle baby nappy?”

She reached forward to tousle his hair, and he pushed her away, eyes blazing with anger.

“This is bullshit and you know it!” he exclaimed.

“Bro, it’s not that big of a deal. Just drop it and find a different story to work on.” Rhea yawned, examining her nails.

“But I’m finally getting somewhere!”

“Are you? Because you said you’d hit a dead end with that sexy lesbian-”

“Sure. Pearl was a dead end. But-”

“Tragic,” Rhea clucked. “I could have made magic with her…” She punctuated her statement with an extremely lewd tongue gesture.

“Gross. And fine, yes, she didn’t give me anything, but-”

“And Detox literally told you 5 times that there’s no story there.”

“Exactly, Rhea! So what’s he trying to cover up? He obviously didn’t like that I was getting too close to something big. You know he’s friends with her.”

“Sure...but even if you’re right, then what?” Rhea said. “Say you find some crazy dirt, you really think he’ll publish it?”

“I think that if I find some crazy dirt, Detox fucking Sanderson won’t matter. I’ll be able to sell the story anywhere.”

Rhea chuckled, shaking her head.

“Alright, but you haven’t found anything yet. So what’s your next move, champ? Because so far you’ve got nothing.”

“I got a new mark…” He pulled up a folder of photos on his computer. “Look.”

Rhea looked, head tilted, a puzzled expression on her face.

“These are just pictures of Fame. What am I looking at? You have lost it, bro”

“Look closer. See the chick who’s behind her in every photo?” Willam zoomed in on a striking but clearly camera-shy brunette.

“Okay...her assistant? And?”

“Exactly. And assistants know all their boss’s dirt. But it’s not her I’m after.” Willam clicked through a few more photos, finally finding the one he was looking for. “Bingo.”

In this picture, the brunette was nowhere to be found, but an adorable, bewildered looking blonde was standing behind Fame in a pretty little mint green dress, bogged down with bags.

“A different assistant. Hashtag who cares?”

“A new assistant, Rhea. And new means vulnerable. Trust me...that girl? Is my ticket to aaalllll the dirt.”

***

Pearl opened the door to Laganja’s office, her hands filled with boxes upon boxes of invitations to Fashion Week shows and parties.

Fashion Week was a beast, Fashion Month was a monster. Fame was traveling to London as soon as New York was over, Milan and then Paris following, the prep work to get all of that ready always a struggle. Her assistants bore the brunt of it, Fame’s expensive taste and particular likes and dislikes not changing just because she was on another continent.

Pearl however, had a job to do too. As boss in the social media department, it was Pearl’s job to decide which shows, parties and events would be worth covering for their social media, and what different employees of Galactica should show up to, to best feature and nourish their brand in all four cities.

“Ready to crunch down?”

“I was born ready, mama.”

***

“I have Fame for Raja,” Violet said into the phone, her finger was on the button, ready to patch the call through.

“Oh, sorry. Raja’s in the conference room!” Ivy was always so cheerful, and for the hundredth time Violet wondered how she did it. “She’s working on the model castings. Should I interrupt?”

Violet bit her lip. Fame hated when she was bogged down by unimportant details, but she hated it even more when decisions were made without her.

“Hang on.” Violet clicked back over to Fame. “Raja is working on model casting in the conference room. Should I interrupt?”

“Where is my fruit salad?”

“On it’s way Miss.” Violet glanced at Courtney’s empty seat, checking her watch. She’d never understand how Courtney could be so slow at everything she did.

“Well hurry up.” Fame hung up, and the line went dead. Violet quickly pressed back to her call with Ivy, wondering to herself if she should text Courtney to speed it along with the food. Not that it would do any good. The last time she sent that message, she got a glib response along the lines of ‘I’ll tell them to chop faster.’

“No need to interru-”

“Violet.” The door to the office opened, and Fame sailed out, snapping her fingers. “Come.”

Violet hung up right away, knowing that Ivy would understand as she grabbed her notebook and phone. By the time she caught up, Miss Fame was already halfway to the conference room.

Shit. She really should have predicted this.

Fame wanted to be involved, no decision too small if it’s subject caught her attention.

Violet tried to text Courtney, a quick shoe emoji to Ivy telling her they were on their way, as she hurried along, making sure the clack of her heels matched Fame’s perfectly so her boss wouldn’t get annoyed at the dual sounds.

As they walked past the glass wall in the conference room, Violet glanced inside.

Raja was sitting at the table. She was wearing a purple silk shirt, heavy gold decorating her ears, fingers and neck, her hair collected in a high ponytail. Trixie was there too, his sweatshirt of the day a bubblegum pink number.

The table was filled with black portfolio folders, and Violet recognized about fifty model cards that were spread out amongst the polaroids of their finished looks.

Violet was just about to get in front of Fame, so she could hold the conference room door open, when she felt her stomach drop.

Right there, at the opposite end of the table, was Sutan.

He was stunning in burgundy, his entire attention focused on his sister as he was talking to her, Raja laughing at something he said.

Sutan hadn’t spotted her yet, but Violet wanted to cry. There was no way she could hide, nowhere to escape to, the other without a doubt recognizing her the minute she stepped inside, and then it’d all be over.

Violet could feel her throat close up, panic clawing at her chest.

“Miss-”

Fame turned to look at her, Violet not even recognizing that she was the one who had called for her boss’s attention.

“I-” Violet was blank. Completely blank.

“I don’t have all day, Violet.”

“I’m going to go get your food.”

“Fine.”

Violet had no idea where it had come from, but Fame turned away from her, clearly dismissing her and blessedly leaving her outside of the conference room.

“Tantan! Were you really going to come by without saying hi-”

The door to the conference room closed, cutting the sound of Fame’s voice off, and Violet did the only thing she could think of.

She ran.

Slamming the door to the office closed helped a little, but her heart was still in her throat. She checked her hair and makeup in her black computer screen, yanking off her ID card and smoothing down her dress over and over again as she walked in a small circle, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Violet?”

Courtney came in through the door, the blonde holding the promised fruit salad in her hand, and for the first time, Violet felt relief course through her body at the sight of her.

“Are you okay?” Courtney asked.

Violet was utterly screwed, but maybe, just maybe, she would be able to pull off the impossible.

All she needed was for Courtney to follow her instructions perfectly.

“Fame is in the conference room for a meeting.”

“So why aren’t you there? Is everything alright?” Courtney’s brow furrowed.

It was a fair question, but it was also a fair question Violet wasn’t going to answer.

“I need you to bring her the food, and take notes.”

“What? Are you sick?”

Violet had started to trust Courtney more and more, but she still hadn’t allowed her to even attempt to take down Fame’s rapid fire orders during meetings, forgetting something at one of those a fatal mistake.

“Go. Now. Please.”

Courtney looked at her like she was insane, but she quickly plated the fruit, grabbed a roll of silverware, her notebook and phone, and hurried to the conference room.

***

Courtney entered the conference room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as she set Fame’s bowl of fruit down in front of her, along with the wrapped silverware. She opened her notebook, trying to find a place to stand where she wouldn’t be in the way.

Should she sit? She’d never been present in this room for a meeting where she had nothing to do but listen. It seemed inappropriate somehow to sit down beside Fame at the table, but also weird to be standing behind her, especially since the table was mostly empty.

Courtney vaguely remembered seeing assistants stand along the wall, so she did just that.

Everyone around the table was talking animatedly, Raja and Fame so firm in their opinions it almost sounded like they were fighting, but Courtney couldn’t focus on them or what they were saying.

All she could think about was Violet.

Courtney had never seen her coworker so visibly flustered.

Eyes wild, cheeks red, voice cracking.

She had looked like she was in genuine distress, and something told her that she should just forget about this impromptu meeting and go back to check on Violet.

After all, Fame could easily call her back if she needed something, right?

On the other hand, Violet had ordered her in no uncertain terms to stay with Fame, and there was a chance that whatever was upsetting her would be worse if she had the added stress of being worried about her boss. So Courtney supposed that she should just stay and do what she was told. She tried to follow the conversation about models, taking what notes she could manage. The good news was, nobody seemed to notice or care that she was there, so she assumed that her position near the door, back pressed against the wall, had been the right move.

“You’re blind.”

“It’s an opinion.”

“Trixie, not now darling. Why are all of these- Sutan where is that model I like?”

“I’m going to need a bit more information to go on if you want my help.”

“Who was that model from that latest Vogue?” Fame asked, waving her hand in the air. “The one on my desk with the red?” When her boss tossed a questioning look over her shoulder, Courtney realized that this question must be directed at her.

““I-I’m not sure, Miss?” Was this the sort of thing Violet got asked and was expected to answer? “Would you like me to go get-”

“Ugh,” Fame let out an annoyed scoff, and seemed to only now realize that Courtney was the one who was there. “Where’s Violet?”

“She’s taking care of something in the office,” Courtney said quickly, not really lying through her teeth, though the thing Violet was taking care of most of all was that she looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Go tell her that if she enjoys her job,” Fame said slowly, “she’ll get back here immediately.”

Courtney hesitated for a split second before Fame snapped her fingers, adding, “Now!”

“Yes, Miss!” Courtney said, rushing from the room.

***

Violet was trying desperately to stay calm. She was pacing the office, her brain working in overdrive, her fingers tugging at her skirt.

Violet was no stranger to digging her own grave, but this was an especially deep one, and she wasn’t sure if she could get out.

Under normal circumstances, Violet would run away. She’d burn the bridge, never look back, and walk away from her mistake, but she didn’t want to walk away from Sutan.

She hadn’t lied to him, not exactly, but she still wanted to cry.

Sutan was everything she could ask for, not because he earned more money a month than Violet would in a year, even as a designer, not because of his connections and how he seemed to know everyone who was anything.

No. So far, Sutan had been perfect because of how he acted. He was attentive and kind, respecting Violet’s boundaries without any kind of fight. It felt like he was interested in what she was saying, his eyes lighting up in delight when she shared her opinion.

Violet had no idea why he seemed to like her so much, why he chose to spend time with her and he could have anyone he pointed at, pretty girl after pretty girl probably standing in line to hang on his arm, but somehow, he had chosen her.

There was no way, however, no way at all, that he’d want to continue that when he found out who she really was.

When he saw that she was nothing more than an assistant, who couldn’t even do her job right.

“Um…”

Violet turned around to see Courtney in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, Violet, but Miss Fame asked for you.”

That was it then. Violet was dead. Her plan had failed, and she had to face the music. She gathered her things, nausea rumbling in her stomach.

“I can tell her you’re sick.”

Violet looked over her shoulder at Courtney who was still standing by the door, a lock of blonde hair twisted around her finger, her lip between her teeth.

“Whatever you want,” she added.

Courtney was a ridiculously good friend, and Violet snorted, the harsh sound betraying how utterly fucked she felt.

“She asked something about a model in the Vogue on her desk, so I can just go get-”

“Jourdan Dunn?” Violet had no idea why Courtney didn’t know that, Fame actually mentioning the model by name one day when Violet had brought her a coffee.

“Great!” Courtney scribbled the name down. “If you need to go, like to the doctor or something, you should go. I’ll message you if anything comes up, or leave you alone completely if that’s what you need, just tell me-”

Violet was pretty sure Courtney had no idea what she had just offered, the blonde in no way ready to run the office on her own.

“No.”

Violet could feel green eyes on her, Courtney watching her every move.

“I’ll go.”

Violet took a deep breath, grabbed her things from the desk and said a slight prayer before she made her way to the conference room, already mourning her lost relationship with Sutan as she closed the door behind her.

***

Sutan was drumming his fingers against the table, a half finished bottle of pellegrino in front of him. He had perked up immediately when Fame had said Violet’s name, the anonymous blonde disappearing to go get her.

He had texted Violet as soon as he had gotten the email from Raja that she wanted him at Galactica, and that she wanted him there now, but as always, she hadn’t seen his message yet.

“I like your new bag, Trixie-” Sutan smiled as he looked at Trixie who had gotten up to stretch, the man looking out the window. Trixie had a fanny pack hanging off of his hip, the cut a lot like what Sutan had seen the European male models run around with over their shoulders, but while theirs was black, Trixie’s was a hot pink and completely covered in jewels.

“Very very stylish.”

“Katya made it for me.”

Sutan wondered if he was supposed to know who Katya was, but Trixie seemed to love it, and fashion was fun at it’s core, or so he had been told.

Sutan was just about to get up himself for a stretch when Violet opened the door and stepped inside, a notebook in hand, her back completely straight.

She was just as pretty as always, an art printed poplin dress in white and light blue paired with a set of elegant heels, her black hair falling down her shoulders, a golden hair clip holding it in place.

He knew that Violet was a designer, but he was pleasantly surprised, and even a little proud, that she was apparently high enough on the food chain to be needed for a meeting like this. It was impressive, only 23, and already invaluable to senior management.

“Hello-“

“Glad you could finally grace us with your presence, Miss Chachki,” Fame drawled, looking bored and kind of impatient. “I need the name of the girl from Vogue, the one with the red-”

“Jourdan Dunn, Miss?”

“Yes!” Fame snapped her fingers. “Jourdan Dunn.”

“You want Jourdan? Now?” Sutan snorted. The model had been booked for months, and while he was very good at his job, he couldn’t make magic happen just because one of his friends changed her mind. “And would you like unicorns at your show as well-”

He was cut off as Raja kicked him under the table, his twin shooting him a serious look that told him to watch his mouth.

“You want someone like Jourdan.” Sutan put it down on the piece of paper in front of him. “Noted.”

“It suits our more tropical, garden-y type of theme for the collection,” Raja picked up a few girls, moving them over and into the approved pile. “Green does look wonderful on darker skin tones.”

Trixie, Fame and Raja chatted back and forth for a bit, Sutan at first caught up in their conversation, but as they started to discuss hairstyles, he zoned out. What they actually did with the models once they were booked was not his business, and while hair could be uncomfortable to endure, it was rarely a violation.

His attention wandered, his gaze settling on something much more interesting than clip on bangs.

Violet was standing against the wall, the woman writing away, noting down everything that was being said.

Sutan tried to catch her eye, tried to get Violet’s attention, but it almost felt like she was avoiding him completely, her gaze glued to her notes.

“Violet?”

Sutan was pulled out of his thoughts as Fame called Violet’s name.

“We need a round of coffees.”

Sutan’s brow furrowed, confused. Why would Miss Fame be sending a lead designer for coffees?

He looked around the room, only now realizing that the apparently useless blonde from earlier wasn’t in attendance anymore.

“Yes, Miss,” Violet said, voice so soft it was almost a whisper, before speaking up a bit more clearly. “What can I get for you all?”

“Hmm, mint tea would be great,” Raja said.

“Can I get an iced mocha with extra whip?” Trixie asked. Violet nodded, writing it down. “Thanks, you’re an angel.”

Violet finally looked Sutan in the eye for the first time all day.

“Anything for you… Sir?”

Sir? Violet had never called him sir, her brown eyes looking at him for the first time, and that was when it clicked. Fame wasn’t sending a designer out for coffees.

“Umh…” Sutan sat up in his chair, the whole situation absolutely bizarre. “No thanks.”

Violet nodded, the tears clear in her eyes as she turned towards the door, walking slowly and precisely. To anyone who didn’t know her, she seemed perfectly calm, but Sutan knew better.

“Please, Violet, continue to move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me,” Fame said drily, before turning her attention back to the model cards, pointing. “I like her…”

Sutan sat in his chair, a little dumbfounded. Violet was Fame’s assistant? Why hadn’t she told him that before? And why was she so upset? Nothing made sense at the moment.

“Hello? Tan?” Fame snapped her fingers, trying to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“Good lord, what is wrong with everyone today?” Fame tapped on one of the cards. “I want her. Trixie, don’t you think she’d be perfect for the resort look?”

“Her chest is a little flat.”

“But look at that waist! Those eyes! Sew some chicken cutlets into the top and she’ll be fine.”

“I can do that.” Trixie made a note.

“Put her on hold, Sutan,” Fame said, handing him the modeling card.

“Are you okay?” Raja asked, her head tilted in concern as she surveyed her brother up and down.

“Yes.” [Actually. No.] Sutan swallowed, his throat feeling as dry as sandpaper. [I need a-] “I need a minute to...excuse me.”

He rose from his chair, and Fame threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Is Mercury in retrograde?”

***

Courtney jumped up from her desk when Violet re-entered. She’d busied herself with updating the schedule and ordering office supplies, but found it impossible to concentrate when she was this worried. Something was really wrong with Violet, and even though Courtney didn’t know what, she felt awful just sitting here doing nothing.

“Violet!” Courtney rushed towards her. “Please tell me what’s wrong, are you-”

“I’m fine.” Violet pushed her way past her, tears falling from her eyes as she grabbed her jacket and her sunglasses, covering herself up so quickly Courtney almost doubted that she had even seen tears fall from Violet’s eyes before she grabbed for her keycard as well.

Courtney had never seen Violet like this before, had never seen her express any emotion beyond calm professionalism or indignant anger, so Violet’s tears shook her to the very core. She also seemed to be having trouble breathing, her skin red and blotchy.

“Please Violet, tell me what’s going on,” Courtney begged.

“Everything is fucked, that’s what’s wrong,” Violet hissed, the tinge of panic back in her voice. “I couldn’t even look at him! Couldn't even-”

“Couldn’t look at who?” Courtney racked her brain. She highly doubted that Trixie could be responsible for this reaction. The jovial head of design was everyone’s best friend, and she’d seen with her own eyes how much he respected Violet. So she must be talking about that other man, the tall one. Courtney’s eyes narrowed.

“Couldn’t look at who?”

“Fuck!” Violet swore as she couldn’t get her stupid jacket to close properly. Her fingers felt numb, clumsy, useless, useless just like her, her mind spiraling, her world zoomed in on the button she couldn’t even manage to close, her mother's voice ringing in her ears, the sharp tone one she hadn't heard in months.

“Violet?”

Her mother would never call her Violet, the word said with a gentle question she knew Courtney could never manage.

Violet turned around, and right there, right in front of her, was Sutan.

Courtney twirled to the man who was standing in the door, fury welling up in her chest.

How dare he show up here in the office? She didn’t know what he'd done to Violet, but she could very well use her imagination.

She stepped between them, arms crossed, asking coldly, “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” the man said, his voice annoyingly calm. “You can step away for a couple of minutes so that I can talk to Violet.”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not going to be possible.” Courtney squared her shoulders, showing him she meant business.

The man let out a chuckle of disbelief before giving her a patient, charming smile.

“Listen, dear-”

“My name is not dear!” Courtney said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He took a deep breath before trying a different tactic.

“Well, dear, I don’t know your name, but if you kindly fuck off for 5 minutes, then I’ll happily name my first born child after you.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. She didn’t care, at the moment, if she got fired. She was not going to let this man intimidate her, or mess with Violet any more than he already had.

“I think you’re the one who needs to fuck off, sir. So back away right now or I’ll have to call securi-”

“Courtney.”

Courtney felt a hand on her arm, Violet’s slender fingers on her.

“Can you go get the coffees?” Violet had pushed her sunglasses into her hair, her dark eyes liquid with tears she barely managed to hold back. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Courtney asked softly. She really didn’t want to leave Violet alone with this horrible man, but she also didn’t want to say no to her, not in this vulnerable state.

“Yes.” Violet pressed a sheet of paper with the coffee order into her hand. “And Miss Fame’s usual.”

“Okay. But...text me if you need anything.” Courtney picked up her phone and notepad, casting an extra dirty look at that asshole as she left the office.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #vitan #violet chachki #courtney act #alaska #willam belli #pearl liaison #rhea litre #raja gemini #miss fame #trixie mattel #laganja estranja

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tchalla-rogers · 5 years

Text

stubborn as a stark

avengers x stark!reader

masterlist

8,795 words

strictly based on infinity war.

This was the first time that you went with Steve to his session. It had been five years since Thanos snapped his fingers and half of life on Earth had been wiped out. Even though Thor had aimed for the head like he was hoping for, it didn’t bring back anyone. So, now you sit in this room full of strangers listening to their stories about life after Thanos. Steve prompted you to speak up but you kept quiet the entire time continuing to listen to how these people are trying to move on.

One man told the story of how he was on a date and broke down and his date broke down. “That’s great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump, you didn’t know where you were gonna come down. And that’s it. That’s those little brave baby steps you gotta take. To try and become whole again. To try and find purpose-,” Steve began. You suddenly felt the urge to cut him off which caused the room to finally look at you for the first time in the therapy session. You looked in the corner of your eyes and saw Steve had raised his eyebrows.

“Steve went in the ice in ‘45 right after he met the love of his life. Woke up 70 years later. We gotta move on…gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It’s left to us guys and we have to do something with it. Otherwise…Thanos should’ve killed us all.”

***

You sat in the room with Natasha as she talked with Rhodey, Okoye, Rocket, Nebula and Carol. Natasha knew you probably weren’t paying attention to what they were discussing, even though it might’ve been about Clint. It always was. Yet, your mind had drifted to your dad, wherever he may be. The last time you saw him was when he was found in space with Nebula. He didn’t talk to you and didn’t even look your way. But, you hoped and never felt like moving on.

The sound of Natasha crying didn’t even enter your ears, but you only noticed her when you looked up to see Steve walking in. “You know I’d offer to cook you dinner but you both seem pretty miserable already.”

“You here to do your laundry?” you joked, which she hadn’t done in a while.

Steve sighed. “To see my friends.” This caused you to raise your eyebrow. You always saw Steve as something more than a friend. Maybe it was the fact that you had been more than quiet recently. Your dad had been missing after Thanos’ snap and you thought he was more than likely dead. Steve and you were both so close to each other but the dread of wondering if Tony was dead seemed to take over. Your strong bond seemed to drift more apart and any hopes of being in any romantic relationship dwindled. Even when Carol had found Tony and your dad didn’t even feel like talking to you. Steve still took care of you and cared about your wellbeing, but you never felt like leaving the tower half of the time.

“Clearly, your friends are fine,” you whispered, grabbing the peanut butter sandwich you were sharing with Natasha on the table and taking a bite.

“You know I saw a pod of whales when I was coming up the bridge.”

“In the Hudson?” Natasha questioned.

“There’s fewer ships, cleaner water…”

“You know, if you’re about to tell me to look on the bright side. Um… I’m about you to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich,” Natasha smirked and the feeling in the room definitely lifted. Steve sat down in the chair near you and smiled at you. You once again looked away and your mind wandered off as Natasha and Steve continued to chat. What brought you back was the sound of someone yelling for help on the camera footage that had just popped up in front of you three.

“Is this an old message?” you asked, staring inquisitively.

“It’s the front gate.”

***

“Have either of you ever studied Quantum Physics?” Scott Lang, or Ant-Man, stood in front of you guys. You remember him fighting on Steve’s side during the battle over the Sokovia Accords. Honestly, you had forgotten about him after everything. There was so much going on with Thanos that Ant-Man had completely skipped your mind.

“Alright. So… five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my…she was my…she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there,” Scott explained frantically.

You felt bad for him, mainly because you forgot about his existence for the past five years. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been a very long five years,” you stated.

“Yeah, but that’s just it. For me, it was five hours,” Scott said. Steve, Natasha, and you looked at each other bewildered by what Scott said. “See, the rules of the Quantum Realm aren’t like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable. Is that anybody’s sandwich? I’m starving.”

“I mean…yes-,” Nat had slapped your arm in the process of you almost getting mad that he was eating your sandwich. “Ow! What? That’s my sandwich!”

Steve ignored your friend banter and continued on with the conversation. “Scott, what are you talking about?”

“What I’m saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm. The only problem is right now, we don’t have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can’t stop thinking about it. What if, we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like… Like before Thanos.”

You smirked, knowing he what he was most definitely talking about. “So, a time machine?”

“No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It’s more like a… Yeah, a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s gotta be some way… no, it’s crazy.”

“Nat gets emails from a damn raccoon and my dad was stuck on some ship shaped like a donut being flown by Squidward. Nothing sounds crazy anymore, Scott,” you reassured him.

Scott nodded, knowing they agreed with what he wanted to do. “So who do we go to about this?” You saw Steve and Natasha look at you, knowing exactly who to go to. It definitely was someone you wanted to see, but you didn’t know if they would want to see you.

***

Steve, Natasha, Scott, and you pull up to your dad’s house. You knew about Morgan Stark, your own baby sister. Pepper had told you about her when she would call and you would actually answer. At first, you felt as if your dad would never love you again and definitely not now. Then you grew to love your baby sister even though you never met her and you were also sure Tony wouldn’t bring you up to her.

It’s when he’s walking in the front of the house that he finally notices you four walking up. You see that he doesn’t want to be a part of this discussion, especially when Scott is explaining his plan about Quantum Physics. Your dad tears down the plan immediately and you remain quiet as the other three are speaking. You aren’t even looking at him and appreciate the scenery around the house. It especially breaks your heart when Morgan runs to Tony to break the conversation.

“Mommy told me to come and save you,” Morgan admits as Tony picks her up into his arms.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony looks so proud of his daughter and glances at you. “I wish you’d come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I…I missed you guys, especially you Y/N. Oh, and table’s set for seven.”

You decide to speak up for the first time during this encounter. “Listen…Dad, I get it. I’m happy for you and want to rekindle our relationship, I really do. But this is a second chance. For us and everyone else who can’t be here right now.”

“I got my second chance right here, Y/N. I wanted you to be apart of it. I can’t roll the dice again. If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.”

The other three start to walk back to the car as your feet remain planted on the porch. You had missed your dad and not once had you thought he would want you to be apart of his second chance or his family. He’s had five years to try and do something, but I guess he had hoped you would do it first. You feel Steve place his hand on your arm as you glance over at him. “He’s scared,” you whisper.

“He’s not wrong,” Steve says, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear. He found this to be one of the things that could calm you down. “I think we’re going to need a really big brain if Tony doesn’t want in.”

You almost smirk, knowing who he is talking about.

***

Bruce sits across from you at all at a diner, chowing down on all of his food at the table. I think the absolute breaking point for your during this discussion was when Bruce decided to dab. Maybe half of Earth’s population was fucked at this point.

Tony was washing the dishes in the sink after Pepper, Morgan, and him just had dinner. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were sitting at the table with him. He grabbed his favorite photo of you and him, the happiest you two have probably ever been. He remembered Pepper had taken it. Morgan asked about you every single day since Tony had told her about you and was wondering when Tony would let her meet you. He didn’t want to bring up how he was waiting for you to come instead of bringing himself to you. He couldn’t help it; he was the most stubborn and he knew his daughters were the same.

So, he went to his computer after finishing the dishes. Tony knew his daughter wasn’t apart of the fallen but maybe if he finally finished what he was working on he could make you proud. Maybe you’d forget about the past five years…maybe. He randomly spewed out some words as for the past few years he couldn’t seem to figure out this device. Yet, now the model now was rendered.

He immediately rushed over to Pepper, not knowing how to bring up his model. He finally got his second chance and now he didn’t want to give it up. But he wanted Pepper to at least know after putting Morgan to bed.

“What? Wow…that’s amazing…and terrifying,” Pepper said after Tony had revealed that he had figured it out. At this moment, he was scared. The excitement dwindled away because he had a second chance and he didn’t want to let that go. Who knew what would happen if a few billion people came back to Earth? He definitely didn’t. He just knew he didn’t want to let this go or lose anyone else he loved in the process. “We got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

Tony sighed almost like he didn’t want Pepper to admit that he should do this. “No, I can’t help everybody. I can barely rekindle a relationship with my own daughter. She probably thinks I never want to talk to her again and I miss her a lot more than she knows.”

“You can help people and yourself, with whatever happened with Y/N. You don’t even need this device to go to your daughter.”

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now and stop.”

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures in my life,” Pepper jokes, wanting Tony to know that he was just what everyone in that compound needed. He smiled at her.

“I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake…go to bed.”

Pepper shook her head. “But would you be able to rest?”

“Okay, here we go. Time travel test Number One. Scott, fire up the uhh…van thing,” Bruce announced after you finally got him to join.

“Breakers are set. Emergency generators are on standby.”

“Good. Because if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose tiny here in the 1950’s,” responded Bruce which most definitely caused almost all of you to panic, mainly Scott.

You try to calm Scott down. “He’s kidding!” Natasha says something to Bruce quietly, probably telling him to watch what he says around Scott. By the time they’re done, Bruce states that Scott is ready to time travel. He says he’ll send Scott back a week. It’ll be for a few hours for him, but for the rest of you, it’ll be only a few seconds.

“Good luck, Scott. You got this.” You knew he was literally just going to walk around for a few hours, but hopefully, that’s actually what happens.

“You’re right. I do, Mrs. Captain America.”

“Wha-?” you started but Bruce had cut you off. “On the count of three! 3…2…1!” Bruce pressed the button to send Scott into the Quantum Tunnel. It was only a matter of seconds before Bruce pressed a button again to hopefully get him back. Instead of Scott, you’re met with some teenager in the same suit that Scott was sent in. What is happening?

“That…who is that?” Bruce continues to press multiple buttons, wondering who was this random teenager that showed up through the tunnel. “Hold on!”

“Is that Scott?” you question, looking over at Steve. The teenager assured you that yeah, he was Scott. Fuck. Bruce managed to send Teenager Scott back into the Quantum Tunnel, hoping that the older one would come back.

“Ow! My back!” an old man yelped, most definitely the older version of Scott.

“We’re fucked. We’re definitely fucked,” you mumbled, trying to find a solution. “Can you take off 40 years?”

“I’m working on it!” Bruce hollers, once again pressing more buttons. A baby appears.

“Bruce, I said 40 years, not his entire lifetime.”

“It’s Scott!” Bruce almost says excitedly, trying to defuse the situation.

“As a baby!” Steve added, knowing that this was definitely not going to help anyone come back.

“He’ll grow!”

“Bring Scott back.”

Bruce told Natasha to kill the power after pressing a few buttons repeatedly. This thankfully brought Scott back, but the look of defeat was on everyone’s faces except Bruce’s. You left the compound, groaning at the attempt that everyone in the room almost had hope for. Steve comes up behind you, rubbing your shoulder to try and soothe you. He somehow knew that they definitely needed Tony for this. Bruce was smart but more minds working together could only lead to a better outcome. “Look, we’ll get them back,” Steve voiced, making sure that you weren’t too upset by the defeat. “You got Mr. Captain America on your side.”

“Steve-,” you almost groaned from his attempt at a joke. He knew you were uncomfortable mentioning your past together. You wanted to work on Tony and you before you worked on trying to build back up what Steve and you had. It might bite you ass later on, but it’s what you wanted. And Steve respected that.

The sound of an expensive car speeding towards the compound has you both looking over. It drives too far past you both but then reverses. When the window rolls down, it’s your father. “Why the long face? Let me guess…he turned into a baby.”

“Among other things, yeah,” Steve answered, knowing you probably weren’t ready to talk. “What are you doing here?” Tony began to walk to the back of his car and explained why what they did went completely wrong. Honestly, you were attempting to listen but the nervousness of him being there was the only thing you were focusing on.

Tony pulled out a device. “A fully functioning time space GPS. I just want peace.” He holds up a peace sign, which almost sends your eyes to the back of your head. “Turns out resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.”

“Me too,” you whispered and you both made eye contact. He smirked in a way that only you would notice.

“We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities. Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And…maybe not die trying will be nice.” You couldn’t imagine your father dying over something you had asked him to be apart and you knew you would try and stop it from happening. Although, stopping Tony was something that never worked. Steve and you both nodded your heads.

Tony reached into the back of his trunk, pulling out Steve’s shield. The smile on your face was something Tony had missed seeing over the past five years. “Tony, I don’t know…”

“Why? He made it for you. Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” Steve thanks him, grabbing the shield. “We’re getting the whole team, yeah?”

“We’re working on that right now.”

***

Bruce and Rocket had both offered to go to New Asgard as they attempted to get Thor back. Natasha was trying to get Clint back in Tokyo. Honestly, you had missed Thor’s excited and determined personality. You missed everyone. You sat in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea you had just made. It was scorching hot, just how you liked it. Behind you, you heard scuffling of feet getting closer to the table you sat at. The eyes that you looked at were Tony’s. “Hey…” he started, although not knowing exactly where to start.

“Dad.” That was the only thing you could think of saying after a few moments of silence. Nothing could prepare you for this conversation. As much as you had wanted to talk with your dad over the past five years, you never thought about what exactly to say.

“Honey-.”

“You know, Pepper called me more than you ever did. Actually, she was the only one who called me. And I cried to her countless times about how I missed my dad. We were worried sick after the snap when we didn’t know if you were dead or alive. And when you came off of that ship looking like hell, my heart broke. But…what…what hurt my heart, even more, was when you…you didn’t even look my way. And now my heart hurts, even more, knowing that for the past five years I’ve been without a dad. You didn’t give me an address, a number…nothing. Pepper had to do that for me.”

Tony definitely knew you weren’t angry. The only thing he heard in your voice was devastation. And he was hoping you would be more angry than sad. He always knew how to try and calm you down when you were raging angry or sad, but devastation over something he did was hard to think about. He never knew what to say over the past five years either, but he knew you were right. His stubbornness took over.

“Listen…for the first time, I don’t know what to say. I spent forever trying to figure out what to say when you came to my doorstep. And now I know I shouldn’t have waited. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I was pissed, hell, I was furious when you picked Steve’s side during the Accords. I didn’t want my daughter to be seen as a criminal, I thought it was because you just loved him.” You knew Tony didn’t approve of your relationship with Steve, at first. He grew to be fine with it, but once you had told him that you weren’t signing the Accords, he tried to talk you out of it. He blamed Steve of all people. “It took me five years to realize that you have a mind of your own and you can make your own decisions, have your own opinions.”

“You should’ve realized that after you disapproved of what I wear for combat and I still wore it anyway.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Tony reached across the table and grabbed your hand, something you missed over the last five years. Your dad’s presence was always something that could calm you down. Recently, it felt like that would never happen again but this moment proved different. “And as much as I don’t want you fighting this battle, I know you won’t listen. Trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures in my life.”

***

Witnessing Thor drinking beer with a more than noticeable beer belly was sad to see. You couldn’t lie either. After the snap, so much resentment sent you into a battle with yourself. You continued to gain too much and lose too much weight and most days were spent laying in bed for hours not thinking about anything. Yet, watching Thor like this seemed almost worse than that. He blamed himself for the death of billions, for killing people he loved.

All of you were inside the Testing Chamber, wondering how this would go. Scott was dressed up in his time travel suit and already used one red vial of Pym Particles, leaving us with one test run left. “Alright. I’m not ready for this,” Scott admitted.

“I’ll do it,” you said, but Tony grabbed you by your arm. “Dad, I make my own decisions.”

Clint stepped up and shook his head. “No, I’m game. I’ll do it.” You retreated, almost angry at your dad trying to control your every move again. He probably should trust his device, but Tony didn’t fully.

“Wa-wait a second, let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know, go back in time, why don’t we just find baby Thanos, you know, and…” Rhodey suggested strangling a baby, which had you cringing just a bit.

“Wow…that’s disgusting,” you muttered, a disgusted look on your face.

“It’s Thanos.”

“Time doesn’t work that way. Changing the past doesn’t change the future.”

The boys continued discussing the stones and “ancient” movies that you barely watched. Bruce finally sent Clint into the Quantum Tunnel. It was only a few seconds before Bruce had signaled that he was bringing Clint back. When Clint came back, he was breathing heavily on the platform which sent Natasha running up to check on him.

“Yeah, it worked. It worked.”

***

All of the Avengers sat in a room, trying to figure out where you could go back in time to get all of the six infinity stones before Thanos did. You sat in between Steve and Scott, taking notes every so often to try and figure this out in your head.

“Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir.”

“What is Vormir?” you asked, not knowing much about space since the trip to kill Thanos was your one trip.

“A dominion of death, at the very center of Celestial existence. It’s where…Thanos murdered my sister.”

You stumbled with your pen, looking up at Nebula. Your blood ran cold because you hoped that this wouldn’t cause someone to die. You didn’t want anyone to die trying to bring back anyone else. Scott shakes his head. “Not it.”

Eventually, you, Natasha, Tony, and Bruce discussed where to find the other stones. They discussed Doctor Strange and how he lived in New York, which sent a bulb off in your head. “Guys, if you pick the right year, there are three stones in New York.”

Bruce jolted up in surprise from your suggestion. “Shut the front door!”

***

In the end, you had decided to go with Clint and Natasha to Vormir. Steve and Tony begged you to go to New York to get the stones, but you felt as if five of you would be too much. Tony reminded you of what Nebula said and Steve told you about how he saw the fear in your eyes with what she said. You told them that didn’t necessarily mean anything and Thanos was just a son of a bitch who murdered his daughter. As usual, Tony sighed disappointedly but respected your decision, nonetheless. Steve persisted more than your dad did, told you that it wouldn’t end well. He felt it in his bones. You kissed him on the cheek, not saying another word during this discussion. He hugged you tightly knowing that you wouldn’t change your mind. After all, it was hard to stop a Stark.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends…we lost family…we lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re gonna win.” Steve glanced over at you and made sure you were paying attention to what he said next. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that.”

“Eh, you get tired of it after a while,” you joked and Steve heard. He shook his head, smiling in a sad manner, hoping this wasn’t the last time he would see you. “See you in a minute.”

The feeling of shrinking into the Quantum Realm and going to 2014 was a feeling you couldn’t shake. It was exhilarating but something you would never want to do again. After splitting off from Rhodey and Nebula, the ship was set for Vormir. You had decided to sit in the back and let Natasha and Clint talk quietly. For most of this, you were just thinking and worried about something bad happening. Sure, you wanted to get everyone back. Whatever it takes. But, you barely bid anyone a proper goodbye. Steve was the only one you hugged tightly, but it was more of a “see you soon”.

Eventually, the ship arrived and you found the planet to be quite beautiful in an unsettling way.

“I bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain,” Natasha muttered as the three of you made your way up.

“Technically, he’s not a raccoon, Nat.” She laughed at your comment, enjoying the three of you as working together.

“Whatever, he eats garbage.”

“Welcome.” The three of you drew your guns on the person standing before you. “Natasha, daughter of Ivan. Y/N, daughter of Tony. Clint, son of Edith.”

“Who are you?” you asked, not dropping the gun despite him knowing who your dad was. Something was up.

“Consider me a guide. To you, and to all who seek the Soul Stone.”

“Oh, well…good. You tell us where it is. Then we’ll be on our way,” you stated and dropped your gun to your side. If he happened to know Tony’s name, Clint’s mom’s name, and even Natasha’s dad…then you thought you trusted him. Especially since Natasha once told you that she didn’t even know her dad’s name.

“If only it were that easy…” the Stonekeeper said, sending chills up your spine. He led the three of you to a cliff. “What you seek lies in front of you. As do what you fear.”

“The stone is down there.”

“For two of you. For one…in order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul.” Fuck.

***

You don’t know how long the three of you sat, trying to figure out how to go about this situation. Steve’s speech rang through all of your minds about doing whatever it takes. Natasha and you believed what he had said, but Clint was trying not to believe it.

“Maybe he’s making this shit up.”

“No…I don’t think so.”

“Why? Cause he knows your Daddy’s name?”

“Well, she didn’t know his name, Clint. Thanos left here with the stone without his daughter. You heard what Nebula said. It’s not a coincidence. Whatever it takes. If we don’t get the stones, billions of people stay dead.”

“Then I guess we all know who it’s gotta be,” Clint admitted, thinking we were all thinking the same person.

“I’m starting to think we mean different people,” you muttered, looking at both of them. You didn’t want to disappoint Steve and Tony. You knew that they told you not to go, they heard Nebula in that room. It didn’t take long to figure out exactly why Nebula’s sister didn’t return with Thanos. Yet, you felt like this is what you wanted. Clint and you used to be close but you hadn’t seen him in a while. He had a family and one he definitely shouldn’t let go. Natasha was your best friend from the Avengers and you guys were super close after the last five years. You didn’t want anything happening to either of them. You wouldn’t allow it.

“For the last five years I’ve been trying to do one thing: Get to right here. That’s all it’s been about. Bringing everybody back,” Natasha said.

“Nat, no.”

“What, you think I wanna do it? I’m trying to save my best friends’ lives, you idiots.”

“Yeah well, I don’t want you to, because I…Natasha, you know what I’ve done. You know what I’ve become,” Clint said, begging for Natasha to change her mind.

“I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

You slipped from the conversation, staring at the end of the cliff. So, this is where Nebula’s sister died. You knew it wasn’t because she wanted to. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve to lose her life for Thanos to kill billions with the stone. Yet, simply jumping from this cliff could bring back those billions of lives. Steve might’ve been hiding how much he missed Bucky. He lost his best friend and then after you slipping away, life probably wasn’t the same. You wanted to see the genuine smile back on his face when Bucky is back. “Tell Tony and Steve I love them.”

The two of them immediately looked at you while you were close to the edge. You could see the fear in both of their eyes, both of their eyes widening. Natasha knew she had to think quick as your leg moved over the cliff. “You tell them yourself.” Natasha ran, jumping and hooking you with a grappling hook.

“Nat!” you scream, holding onto her hand. “No!” You tried to get out, but it was no use. Attempting to get out almost dropped your best friend.

“It’s okay.” She kicked off the wall, falling to the ground beneath her. You yelped, looking away from her on the floor. A sob took over your body as both you and Clint didn’t know what to do. It was heartbreaking. Someone that stood by your side for the worst five years of your life was now gone. And you couldn’t bring her back.

***

“Did we get them all?”

You dropped to your knees, sobbing. Everyone’s eyes shot to you and they began to realize someone was missing. Steve walked over to you, trying to stand you up. He pulled you into a hug, wondering what could’ve gone wrong. “Clint, where’s Nat?” The fact that Clint didn’t answer and your continuous sobs showed that she wasn’t coming back. Steve had squeezed you tighter, feeling the grief.

Tony, Steve, Bruce, Clint, and you sat by the lake. Your cries were subdued, but thinking about how Natasha should be standing here instead still had tears falling down your face. “It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it.”

Steve and Tony looked at you, wondering what you were talking about. They didn’t think you would actually sacrifice yourself, leaving them behind to struggle to grapple with your death. Tony was even sadder because after not talking to you for five years, he was so happy that you guys were talking. He was ecstatic that he could finally rekindle something he was too stubborn to do before. And, yet all of that could’ve gone to shit and he would never see you again. “She’s not coming back. We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

“We will.”

After this discussion, Tony pulled you to the side. He had tears falling down his face, not knowing what to say. “You…you were gonna do it?” You didn’t want to answer his question. It was hard to admit it back there because you couldn’t imagine how devastated your dad would be if it were you that didn’t come back. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if that was you that we were all mourning right now. I couldn’t imagine.”

“Dad, I was right there. I was at the side of the cliff and yet Natasha was so determined on being the one. She wouldn’t let either of us sacrifice ourselves.”

“Natasha could stop you before I ever could.” He pushed a few strands behind your ear, kissing you on the forehead. He couldn’t imagine if you weren’t there when everyone got back. You appreciated him bringing light to this situation. Tony left after a bit, going to the lab to place the stones on the gauntlet. After a few minutes, you followed after him into the compound and walking to the lab. Steve stood outside of the lab, a look of sorrow on his face. You knew that he was sad over Natasha, but thinking more about how sad it would’ve been to be in your place. To watch your best friend die and being the one wanting to sacrifice yourself. Before you stepped into the lab, his hand moved to grasp his around yours. You smiled at him, reassuring him that we are about to get back everyone we lost. The two of you walked into the lab.

After figuring out who would be the one to do the snap, Bruce stepped up to the plate. Thor wanted to, badly, but you knew it would kill him. You all saw what happened to Thanos after he snapped away billions of lives.

“You remember… everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bringing them back to now, today. Don’t change anything from the last five years.”

“Got it.” Bruce nodded. Everyone suited up.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., do me a favor and activate Protocol 8.”

“Yes, boss.” The compound soon went on lockdown.

You were still holding Steve’s hand, squeezing it a bit tighter from fear of what would happen to Bruce. He put on the gauntlet, screaming in pain from how strong the gauntlet is. “Talk to us, Bruce,” you said, hoping he was okay.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he grunted. Through the pain of the gauntlet, he tries hard to snap his fingers and bring everyone back. His groans of pain continue before he finally snaps his fingers. The power became so strong that he collapsed and you kicked the gauntlet away. Bruce held onto your arm as you bend down to his level, asking in pain, “Did it work?”

“Worth a shot. It’s over. It’s okay.” In the distance, you hear a phone ringing, but you’re too busy trying to assure that Bruce is okay. His arm has definitely seen better days.

“Guys…I think it worked!” you heard Scott yell from the other room while looking out the large window. A shadow began to overcast over the compound, and Bruce’s eyes widened. You feel a push, arms around you and then everything goes black.

***

“Come on, you two. Wake up.” You groaned, feeling the blast ache your body. Steve’s arms were wrapped around you loosely and you realized that was the push you felt before the blast. Opening your eyes, you see your dad trying to wake you and Steve up. Steve soon opens his own eyes after you stumbled to stand. “There you go. You lose this again, I’m keeping it.” Tony handed Steve his shield.

“What happened?” Steve asks, eyes scanning yours to make sure you’re okay.

“We messed with time. It tends to mess back.”

The three of you walk to where Thor is standing as he observes Thanos a few hundred feet away. “What’s he been doing?” you question, noticing that he sat there acting as if he didn’t blow up the entire Avengers facility.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“He doesn’t have the stones, right?”

“No, and we should keep it that way.”

You more than knew that this was a trap. Thanos quietly sitting there, staring at the four of you nonchalantly. There was no way that he was willingly going to sit there after the compound was obliterated. “You know it’s a trap right?”

“Yeah…and I don’t much care,” Tony admitted, the adrenaline beginning to run through his veins. “Listen, Y/N, I want you out of this. Go help find everyone else, this isn’t your battle.”

“It became my battle when Nat sacrificed herself to get us to where we are right now.” Your suit formed around you, something Tony had designed to make sure you remain protected during battle. His technology became more advanced and he made sure to update everything he could to prepare something protective. It wasn’t thick like his was, but it fit your body nicely and allowed for proper movement. Countless practicing with Steve had prepared you for fighting on the battlefield, but Tony made sure to add more that could higher your chances of success. You could hear a sigh escape his mouth, muttering in disbelief at how stubborn Starks were.

Thor summoned Mjolnir and Stormbreaker and you watched the thunder surround him. “Let’s kill him properly this time.” Soon, you all were standing face to face to Thanos.

The smirk on his face was something you desperately wanted to wipe off. “You could not live with your own failure. And where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yep. We’re all kinds of stubborn,” Tony replied.

“I’m thankful. Because now, I know what I must do.” Thanos stood up, slowly moving towards his helmet, making sure to put it on. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom. And then…with the stones you’ve collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what it has been given. A grateful universe.”

“Born out of blood.”

“They’ll never know it. Because you won’t be alive to tell them.” Thor and Tony run at Thanos. Once Thor and Tony’s attempts were done, you and Steve ran to attack. Thanos went to hit you but Steve blocked you, holding up the shield.

“Okay, Thor. Hit me.” Thor slammed Mjolnir and Stormbreaker together and uses his lightning to hit Tony’s suit with energy. Tony uses it to blast Thanos. It’s back and forth, someone getting knocked out and someone else stepping into their place as they quickly recover. Thanos used your dad as a shield, which left Tony laying on the ground.

“Dad!” You ran over to your dad, checking to make sure he was okay.

Steve instantly ran up to Thanos, trying to attack him but Thanos shields him away. Thor continues trying to get the upper hand against Thanos, but it seems no use. Everything Thor did was instantly blocked by Thanos. At this point, Thanos stood over Out the corner of your eye, you see Mjolnir lifted from the ground and hit Thanos as it moves towards Steve’s hands. You gasped in amazement as Steve picked up the hammer. Soon after, Thanos goes after Steve as he fights with both his shield and Mjolnir. Tony soon wakes up, both hands going on your shoulders. “You okay?” he grunts, standing up.

“I mean I’m not the one who was just used as a shield for lightning.”

“Good point.” A painful grunt from Steve was heard and you quickly turned around. Thanos continued to obliterate Steve’s shield and threw him. You were about to run over to Steve, but he staggered to stand up a few seconds after.

“In all my years of conquest…violence…slaughter…it was never personal. But I’ll tell you now…what I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet…I’m gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.” Thanos’ army descends to the ground where you all stand. Tony and you walked over to Steve, bewildered by the four of you having to fight against Thanos’ entire army. Steve looks at Thanos with determination and tightens his shield to his arm, despite it being completely broken. He suddenly stops, almost leaning his head towards his comm device in his ear. The sound of crackling fills your ears.

“Cap, you hear me?” Was that Sam? “Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?” The sound of whirring filled your ears and you turned behind you. A yellow portal was starting to appear on Steve’s left-hand side, reminding you of Doctor Strange’s portal. Holy shit. “On your left.”

The battlefield was suddenly covered in Doctor Strange’s yellow portals, thousands of people walking through. Okoye, T’Challa and the Wakandan army, Shuri, Sam, Drax, Mantis, Star Lord, Groot, Wanda, who you assumed was Hope, Scott’s girl, Peter, Valkyrie, and the Asgardian army, Pepper, Wong and the Masters of the Mystic Arts and several Ravager ships. What stood out to you the most was Bucky, ready for battle. “Avengers!” Steve summoned Mjolnir, ready to say his favorite words. “Assemble.”

Everyone began running towards Thanos’ army. You picked up a sword from the ground, slicing through his army as they dropped like flies. One of Chitauri jumped in front of you, causing you to jump. You readied your stance to hopefully slice this guy in half when Mjolnir smacked it and sent it a few hundred feet away. You glanced to your right and Steve smirked at you, running to fight more of Thanos’ army. Eventually, you found your way over to Tony and Doctor Strange in the chaos, fighting alongside them. Scott realized that even though Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel, there was still another one in his van. Now, everyone worked together to get the stones far from Thanos so that Scott and Hope could restart his ugly van.

“Hey. You said one out of 14 million, we win, yeah? Tell me this is it,” Tony asked, fighting off some of Thanos’ army. He blocked you from one running up behind you, blasting it.

“If I tell you what happens, it won’t happen.” You saw Stephen look over at you, an almost sorrowful look in his eyes. This caused you to raise one eyebrow but the look was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“You better be right.”

After more fighting, you hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. alert Tony and you about something entering the atmosphere. You would’ve believed it was more of Thanos’ army about to rain down more fire, but they were firing at it instead. “I think I know who it is.”

Carol Danvers came flying down straight towards Peter who was holding onto the gauntlet tightly. She was relentless, wanting to knock Thanos down but once again, Thanos seemed to always have the upper hand. He pulled the power stone from the gauntlet, using it to hit Carol away. The gauntlet rolls toward your feet and you know exactly what you had to do. Tony was preoccupied and attacking Thanos, not noticing that you were about to do something that would kill you. Thanos quickly threw Tony away, getting ready to snap his fingers. You slipped the gauntlet on as it adjusted tightly around your arm and looked over at Strange. He raised one finger and you knew this was the one out of 14 million. Tony struggled to stand up, staggering before noticing that Thanos was about to snap this universe’s existence.

“I…am…inevitable.” He breathes heavily, ready to watch everyone on this planet turn to dust again. He snaps his fingers but the stones aren’t on his gauntlet. The power of all six stones on the gauntlet wrapped around your hand was something you couldn’t endure for too long. You saw your dad’s wide eyes lock with your own and Steve running towards you, yelling at you to stop.

“Enjoy this…you motherfucker.” You snapped your fingers and the power ran through your body too strongly. A pained scream escaped your lips as you dropped to the ground and leaned up against debris, whimpering from the pain from the stones. If this basically burned Bruce’s entire arm, you were definitely not going to make it. The best thing you saw was Thanos disintegrate into ash and his entire army as mostly everyone stood to watch.

Steve stumbled up to you as tears were running down his bloodied face. You were badly burnt and your whimpers soon vanished as you could barely make any noise. He grabbed the side of your face but he knew there was nothing that he could do. “God…” he choked out, laying his forehead against yours. “You weren’t supposed to do this.” The whisper escaped his mouth and even though your eyes were ringing, all you could do was simply look up at him. “I…I love you. I should’ve told you sooner.” He kissed the top of your head and heavy footsteps were pounding behind him.

“Y/N, oh god. What have you done now? Y/N…” Tony couldn’t breathe, trying to collect the last words to say to his own daughter. Steve was still kneeling next to you, struggling to breathe. The two people the Avengers barely saw cry were huddled around your body, not knowing what to say. The Avengers surround you as they began to realize they would lose someone very important. Tony knew that he couldn’t even fix you up, there was no reversing this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, but it was. This was the one out of 14 million.

“Hey, Dad…” you mumbled, barely able to get it out. You weren’t sure if he heard you but the sob that escaped his body was verification.

“I wish…I wish I could take back the last five years-. Friday?”

“Life functions critical.”

“Y/N…look at me.” You try to stare long enough, feeling your body breaking down to its final moments. “We love you. You can rest now.” Everything faded to black as your body took its last breath.

***

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve teased, looking at his best friend. He knew that Bucky knew exactly what he was going to do.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve and Bucky hugged, Bucky making sure to slip two extra Pym Particle bottles into Steve’s hand.

Steve walked over to the Quantum Tunnel, suiting up to bring back all of the infinity stones to the exact time everyone took them.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asks.

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.” Steve picked up Mjolnir, knowing that this was his moment.

“Going quantum. Three, two, one…”

2014

This was Steve’s last destination. He used his supposed-to-be last bottle on getting to America during this year, where you sit in the restaurant before a date. He sees you sitting by the window, waiting for 2014 Steve to arrive. The restaurant was actually quite empty, so he tapped on the window quickly. You looked over, looking at Steve questioningly. He motioned for you to walk to the door and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your stuff and walking to the door. He waited for you to meet him.

“Steve…what the hell are you wearing?” you ask as you walk away from the restaurant.

“Look, this isn’t going to be easy to explain…” Steve didn’t know where to begin. Being apart of the Avengers, you saw things that many other people wouldn’t believe. But, this was way before you knew about Thanos.

“Well…whatever it is, just know I’ll believe you.”

Steve smiled, knowing that you had so much faith in him. “There’s really no easy way...to begin this…I am here to bring you to the future. To 2023.” He said confidently, glancing up at you.

“And somehow I don’t believe that.”

“Look, I am from the future. We lost half of Earth’s population and to get it all back…it took a sacrifice. More than one.” You looked at him, wondering just exactly what the sacrifices were. Overall, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know but you asked anyway.

“Was one of them…me?” The look on Steve’s face broke, as he held onto your hands. He missed you. He was overwhelmed and nervous before, but now he missed the look you gave him. Even though you slightly changed during the years after Thanos’ snap, he knew deep down you still loved him. It was touchy to bring up what you two used to have, but he wasn’t going to leave you here.

Tony barely spoke with anyone after you died, only to Morgan and Pepper. He would talk to Steve most of the time, also. Tony hoped to bring you home to Morgan to finally introduce you two and that didn’t happen. It was only a few days after the second battle against Thanos and Tony couldn’t shake what happened.

“Yeah…yeah, it was. And…Nat.”

“Nat? Natasha?” you gasp, rethinking going with Steve.

“Look…it’s irreversible. I would try to bring her back, but I can’t.”

“You could, though. If you could bring me, we could get her.”

“I don’t have enough time.” You shook your head, thinking how selfish it would be for you not to relive your death, but for Natasha having to. “Look, Y/N…please, come with me.”

You stared at Steve, looking into his eyes. His eyes were screaming for you to come, hope coursing through them. The pained look Steve gave you at the window made you believe what happened even more. It was almost painful in a way that had you believing it was because he was desperate to see you again. As if he was pained from watching people he loved sacrifice themselves to live a life Thanos took away. “Removing me from the past, doesn’t mess up what I did?” you ask, as Steve shakes his head.

“I promise this is different.” You nod your head, trying to come to terms with what you’re about to do.

“I just have one more question.”

“Yeah?” He grabs the side of your face, his thumb massaging your cheek. Just a few days ago your cheek was burned from the power of the stones. He loved having you back in his arms and he brushed a few strands out of your face, again. Something he knew calms you down.

“Does my dad approve of this…of us?” Steve laughs, nodding his head yes. You sigh contently, letting Steve know that you’re ready to go. “I’m ready, then.”

***

Bruce called for Tony to the woods. It was a few days after the battle with Thanos and frankly, Tony didn’t want to be bothered. So, when Bruce called him to the woods, he was pissed. It took some encouraging and Bruce saying that he just needed to come. He knew Steve went back to return the stones, so he thought something went incredibly wrong. Bruce sounded excited, so he didn’t know why he was stumbling behind Bruce to the quantum tunnel.

He definitely wasn’t as energetic as Bruce, merely sauntering behind him muttering in annoyance. He was still in his pajamas and slippers, wanting to be back in his living room watching T.V. with Morgan. When Morgan begged to come with them, Tony said no in fear that it wasn’t something good. He stumbled into the woods, following Bruce’s tracks but he wasn’t prepared for who was in front of him and stopped him in his tracks.

“Y/N…?” he whispered.

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endless-vall · 5 years

Text

So close, yet so far - Marc Antony x MC fanfic

Summary: After Xante told Antony about Acilia’s plotting with Cassius, things get heated between her and Antony, and they cross a line from which they may never return.

Author’s notes: BEWARE! ANGST AHEAD!

Surprisingly enough (or not), my main LI in ACOR is actually Cassius.

I’ve made a second MC, solely for the purpose of romancing Antony as well since I did find him an interesting & intriguing character.

The thing is - thought - that I could see my main MC romancing Antony as well, I just can’t see them working out in the long run. She would always choose Cassius in the end (in my playthrough, she only seduces Antony for his help, nothing more) but in fanfics you, that’s the fun part, you can do pretty much anything you want, and it doesn’t have to be part of your own ‘canon’ world.

I am planning on writing an Acilia/Cassius & Saffron/Antony fanfics in the future, but I’m not sure when it’ll happen. In the meantime, enjoy this one! 😄

Tagging: @cora-nova @lilyofchoices @paisleylovergirl@dandeservestheworld @mfackenthal @quacksonlover@blackcatkita @writtenbycandy . Let me know if you wanna be tagged in future works for Antony x MC/ACOR/Perma tag! Let me know if you want to be untagged! ^^ I might’ve messed up the tagging, so don’t be shy to ask to be added/removed!

Antony’s last words echoed in her mind. Acilia chewed on her lower lip.

An unfitting act for a courtesan, but thankfully, she was sitting alone in her chambers at the moment.

“We’re not as different as you’d like us to be,” He snapped at her, his eyebrows twisting into a frown. The anger over his face radiated so intensely she could almost feel it, like a burning heat over her own body.

Acilia took a step back, but kept a straight face. “I’m nothing like you, Antony” She managed to keep her voice calm, even if she was helpless inside.

“Really? So it wasn’t you who killed Senator Glycia’s son?” He raises an eyebrow.

Acilia opens her mouth to defend herself, to protest, but... Nothing comes out. She can’t lie to him... Not to Antony.

Antony smirks, obviously pleased with himself. “Legate Aquila?”

This time Acilia frowns. He had it coming. They both had it coming!

“I will not stand here and tolerant your accusations.” Acilia knows Antony knew about her plans of revenge a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t deny them. Especially when other people could hear.

She turns on her heels and prepares to leave but Antony grabs her hand and forces her to stop. It’s not enough to cause her any pain but it’s enough to keep her in place.

“What?--” She hurls back at him, but he still keeps her hand in his, despite her upset expression and aggressive tone.

“You think I’m the bad guy here?” He suddenly sounds so much calmer, but somehow... It’s even worse. It way more terrifying that way.

“Take a look at the mirror, Acilia. You’re no better than me.”

She gasps, finally freeing her hand from his grasp. “This, this is where you’re wrong. Enjoy your time with Xanthe.” Acilia is finally able to tear herself off Antony, and walk away.

Xanthe told Antony Acilia has been plotting with Cassius against him and Caesar, and he started favoring Xanthe over her. He’d visited the scholae once again, briefly bumping into Acilia - right before storming out. Acilia followed after him out to the streets, trying to confront him. Trying to...

Well, she wasn’t sure what was she trying to do anymore.

It’s not like Xanthe was lying. Acilia was plotting with Cassius.

But Antony made it clear he disliked being used...

Or maybe it was even more than that. It sure felt like that.

From the way he seemed to take it personally, to how offended he looked. How... Hurt? Maybe? Furious, on the other hand, definitely.

Antony looked like... He truly thought Acilia had feelings for him. Which is why learning she was using him and plotting with Cassius has stung at him.

Who knew? Maybe she did have feelings for him. She just couldn’t let it interfere with her plans. She couldn’t let it stand in the way of her revenge.

It might’ve been too late. Maybe she already let it stand in the way of her plans.

Sighing deeply, she looked in the mirror in front of her.

“Take a look at the mirror, Acilia. You’re no better than me.” His words rung like bells in her ears.

Was she really no different from him? Will she truly choose her revenge over anything, anyone?

With uneasiness in her heart, she allowed herself to lean backwards into her bed and drift into a dreamless sleep.

“Acilia, time to wake up! It’s nearly time you went to the games!” She heard Lena’s voice even before the echoing of her footsteps.

She marched into the room, kicking the door open, with a huge smile plastered over her face and a stunning dress in her hands. “Wear this to the games and Antony won’t be able to tear his eyes off you.” Lena proclaimed.

“The games? But I thought Antony invited Xanthe to accompany him to the games,” Acilia twitched her eyebrows into a bewildered expression.

The fact she just woke up didn’t do much help to her confusion, as well.

“You’re not going with Antony to the games.” Lena smiled, tilting her head to the side.

“You’re going with Cassius.” She explained.

“Ahh, I see.” Things finally made sense. Acilia stood up and took the dress from Lena’s hands. “It’s beautiful...” She couldn’t help but admire the stunning gold fabric of the dress, draped over Tyrian purple decorated with eagle feathers. Lena was right - that dress was ought to catch the eyes of any men of Rome.

“Go to the games with Cassius, wearing this, and make sure Antony knows you’re there on another man’s arm. His own jealousy will do the rest.”

And with that, Acilia accepted.

Equipped with Lena’s finest dress and accessories, and with Cassius accompanying her, Acilia arrived at the games.

On the way to their seats, she already saw Antony at his place, as the director of the games, with Xante by his side.

Their eyes did cross each other, fixating on the other. Antony’s eyes burned with fury, and he averted his gaze just as quickly as it has landed on Acilia.

She wondered whether Lena’s plan worked, or rather if he was simply still furious from the past events.

The games started, and he didn’t look at her. Not even once more.

She seemed to be invisible, dead to Antony.

But the longer he ignored her, the clearer it became. Yes - he avoided her - but it was killing him inside.

Antony used everything he had in him to look away from her, and a smile spread across Acilia’s lips.

“Enjoying the games, really?” A concerned look flashed across Cassius’ face.

“What?” Surprise washed over her, as Acilia realized she was still sitting with Cassius, watching a brutal fight in the arena below.

“Oh, god - No.” Acilia shook her head. “Just realized something and I have a good feeling about it.” She explained, sending him an apologetic smile.

“You want to tell me what that is?” Cassius moved in closer, dropping his tone and speaking into Acilia’s ear.

“Maybe later,” She winked at him, although she knew she couldn’t possibly tell him the truth.

But he didn’t need to know it.

As the games came to a finish, everyone were getting out of their seats. Acilia threw one last look into Antony’s direction, catching him just as he was staring.

Frozen in place, an unreadable expression over his face, and just the tiniest furrow in his brows, Antony was studying her, head to toe.

Xante wrapped her hands around his arm, as if trying to pull him with her. Unable to nudge him, she followed his gaze, only to fall over Acilia.

Xante immediately frowned, and seemed to give Antony a piece of his mind. He - on the other hand - looked unbothered.

Acilia decided it was a good time - and flashed him a smile.

Successfully undermining him, Acilia’s plan was going according to plan. An astounded look flashed across his features, and his mouth dropped open - as he wondered why might Acilia smile.

Getting her cue, Acilia turned around and joined Cassius, and they left the arena together, leaving Antony and Xante behind.

This was far from being over.

And she was right. He came to see her, that night. She had just gotten out of the shower, after getting back from the games and bidding Cassius goodnight.

“I want to see her right now-” She heard his demands even before she saw his face.

“I understand, domine, but you’ll have to send for her and wait for your-” She heard Lena explaining firmly as she approached.

“Thank you, Lena, but that won’t be necessary. I have time now.” Keeping her expression balanced now, yet smiling, was easier now she knew her acts worked on Antony.

Lena raised her eyebrow at her, as if asking if she was sure. Acilia gave her one, definite nod and Lena exhaled. “Very well.” She accepted, and left them be - not before sending one last glance at Acilia, as if warning her to be careful.

“This way,” Acilia didn’t wait for Antony to speak first, and led him to the scholae’s gardens. They weren’t as grand or as magnificent as many of her roman patrons had, but they were pretty enough and quiet and most importantly, private.

Antony followed her, not giving much importance to their change of scenery.

“You wanted to see me?” Acilia turned, making a show of the swaying of her hips. As much as Antony was mad at her, it definitely caught his eye.

“You drive me crazy.” He said that. It wasn’t much of a compliment, too. More of a statement of a fact, and his tone was still somewhat collected, even if Acilia knew better than to believe it. “And you’re so stubborn, and-” Now his tone started getting angrier and angrier.

Ah, there it was.

“Your point?” She narrowed her eyes, cutting him off.

Antony gaped at her. She interrupted him? It wasn’t the first time, admittedly, but usually she had... Better methods... Of doing that.

“You try to prove so hard that you’re better than this. Better than us - THAN ME, but you’re not. And if you could just admit that, hell, Acilia, we could --” He didn’t finish that sentence. Instead, he looked around himself. Anywhere but her.

“We could?” She pressed, even if deep down she knew the answer to that, and that’s an answer she didn’t want to hear. Because she knew the cost it could take from her, and it’s a cost she wasn’t willing to pay.

He looks back, meeting her eyes, and just as fast - his lips are over her own. Fierce, demanding. Trying to claim her as his own. He pushed her against a nearby tree, almost violently. Both of his hands came up to caress her face, pulling him towards her, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t kiss back.

It started almost aggressive, but somehow, towards the end of the kiss, it somehow turned... Soft.

Acilia pressed her forehead against his own. At first, Antony flinched away, but she pulled at the hands placing on her cheeks, and then, almost reluctantly, Antony obliged and moved back in - resting their foreheads together.

They stood in silence. Maybe they both knew it was likely the last time.

And right then, it hit her. Why they were so different, why they could never truly understand each other, let along commit to each other.

“You want to know what’s the difference between the two of us?” Acilia prompted Antony’s unimpressed figure. He immediately stepped back and erased any traces of emotion he might’ve shown just a second earlier.

“Enlighten me, Princess” Somehow, the way the word ‘Princess’ rolled off his tongue now was so different than it used to before. So... mocking, and toxic, she felt a painful shiver run down her bones.

“All those horrible things I’ve done, and believe me, I did. I stand by my actions, I don’t deny them, even if the gods never forgive me, I did them for my people. For my family, for my tribe. But you? Antony? You’ve only ever cared for yourself. And everything you do,” She pauses, pointing a finger sharply against his chest. “You do for yourself.” She pushes against his armor.

She realized, deep down, that if it came down to her - or power... Antony would always choose power.

“And that why we’re different. That’s why we’ll never be able to understand each other. Not completely. Not ever.” She shakes her head, and fights the tears that threaten forming in her eyes. She needs to be strong now. She can’t show him the effect he has on her.

Just a few moments more, she assures herself. Just a few moments more and he’ll be gone - she’s sure.

Her words made sure of it. There was no turning back now.

And she’s right.

Antony nods once, his face unreadable, as usually. He put back on the mask he usually carries, the one she was able to briefly cast off.

“You can keep telling yourself those lies,” He tells her, but she knows it’s just his way to deal with their inevitable parting. “But you’re a murderer, and you’re no better than me. You can fool anyone you want, Acilia, but you can’t fool me,” His words come out as a stream, and even though he’s not cursing at her, it sure feels like it.

Acilia decides to endure it, so she simply shrugs and plasters a weak yet confident smile. “Sure, Antony. Whatever makes you sleep better at night.” She promises him, and for just a moment his facade wavers and she can see how furious he’s with her.

“This is goodbye, Acilia. Just know, the next time you need my help, the next time you come crawling to me, asking for a favor... I won’t help you.” With that, he turns on his heels and starts walking away, out of Acilia’s sight, and out of her heart.

And he was right. This was goodbye. She was going to see him again, obviously, but never like that. This was their breakup, their love story ending sooner than it began.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfic #a courtesan of rome #marc antony #antony x mc #marc antony x mc #acor #fanfic #my writing #angst

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jimlingss · 6 years

Text

Head Over Heels to Hell

➜ Words: 27.5k

➜ Genres: 80% Fluff, 20% Angst, Childhood friends To Enemies To Lovers!AU (it’s a roller coaster), Reverse Soulmate!AU, Historical!AU (kind of)

➜ Summary: Some people are destined to never have a soulmate. You are one of the few. Instead, you have something much different - a parasite set out to destroy and ruin your life no matter where you run to.

➜ Warnings: Mention of death and a shit ton of other things - I promise it's not too angsty but still tread carefully. Implied smut & slight historical inaccuracies.

➜ Notes: My god, I wrote this back in April. But honestly, I’m so fucking proud of it. This is probably my most favourite Hoseok story I’ve written up to date. Dare I say, it might even be masterpiece level. Anyways, I’ve been super excited to share this. Enjoy!

Cr.

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several, fated to fall in love with their other half or a fragment of themselves. Whether it be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence by your side that makes a home a true home - each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and the void feeling that lingered while they travelled through life on their own disappears.

You, however, are not so fortunate of an individual.

“A few folks in the world don’t have a soulmate.” The old woman sighs while looking out from her porch. You sip on your juice box, swaying from side to side on your toes next to the rocking chair. “I can see it in your eyes, dear. A bachelorette. You’ll be alone for your entire life and the next to come.”

You quirk your head to one side. “What’s a bachelorette?”

You can’t comprehend what your grandmother is saying. She’s using such complicated words that your dad hasn’t taught you yet but you aren’t very concerned with it either. Any second now, your mom will emerge from the kitchen with ants on a log and you’ve made sure you finished your breakfast this morning to be able to eat them. Also, your mom says your grandmother is old and her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, whatever that meant.

Did that mean she was crazy? If she’s crazy then that’s not good. But maybe crazy is fun and exciting. Oh! That little doggy that wanders around the yard is also fun and exciting. Speaking of which, where is it?

“It means you won’t be able to experience love.”

Your grandmother snaps your attention momentarily back into focus. You peel your eyes away from the verdant green lawn to the wrinkles surrounding her experience yet tired eyes. “At least, you can experience it but nowhere near the amount that soulmates would feel. Instead of a soulmate, you have something much different, Y/N.”

“What is it?”

For once, the sorrow and pity laced in her features has melted off. The old lady smiles at you and pets your head lightly. “You’ll find out someday.”

Without fully understanding the weight of her words, there will come a day when you look back and regret not taking heed of the warning.

Fate decides to begin smiling down at you at four years old.

Barely able to walk on your own two feet without wobbling, your mother sends you off to preschool with a bright knapsack and brand-new shoes. You aren’t aghast to be without her but more so, bewildered that there are so many miniature humans like you in the confines of such a small space. “Y/N?”

Your name being called has you flopping your head to the ceiling where a young lady with an apron tied around her waist is grinning. “You’re Y/N, right? Welcome to our little Buttercup Daycare!” The teacher squats down to meet your height. “We’re just having a little playtime now before all the kids get here and we do some crafts together. Is there something you’d like to play with?”

It’s then that you confirm you quite like this lady. She’s very nice and pretty.

Your tiny arm raises, finger moving from your fist to point at the pink princess castle in the corner. She smiles and ushers you over. “Great choice! Do you like princesses?” You nod at her question, and she hums, watching as you open the door and study the plastic building. “You know, Emily really likes to play with princesses too! She would be a great friend. I should go get her.”

No. No. No. You don’t want a friend. You want to play with the teacher- “Oh…”

Before you were able to turn around and voice your opinion, the lady has disappeared in the sea of children. You whip your head around, standing on the tips of your toes to catch sight of her but the struggle is fruitless.

Suddenly, it hits you hard. Your mother is gone. Your father is at work. The teacher is nowhere in sight and all these rambunctious strangers are scaring you. They’re shouting, screaming, running, giggling - it’s sheer madness.

With the blind courage of a four-year old, you bravely step into the crowd, yelping when a stranger bumps into you, whimpering when a block is thrown at your foot, crying softly as someone steps on your shoes. It’s no wonder that you get pushed aside so easily when even a gust of wind could knock you off your feet. But this time, it isn’t a mere nudge.

Like a swift current, a stream of children running indoors when they’re not supposed to, accidentally collides into your little body, shoving you aside and you're pushed to the ground. A shock ripples throughout your frame, knees bruised, palms met with the rough carpet. You’re absolutely stunned, unable to grasp what just happened but in the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, you break out into horrific and heart wrenching sobs.

“Owie…”

“Stop crying.” In the midst of the chaos, you rub your eyes with your little fists, lifting your chin to meet the tall shadow looming over you. The stranger wears no smile, oddly familiar in a way you can’t understand and his cold gaze doesn’t make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were falling like raindrops. “Only babies cry. You’re not a baby.”

The boy should be the same age as you. Should because no child should have such a fixated stare and serious expression. There are only a few inklings that show his youth, the pitch black hair that looks more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction, the low height and stature that may be smaller than your own body and the navy green overalls splattered with colours that are not supposed to belong there.

“Stand up.”

He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment, letting the remaining salt water drip down your cheeks and then your arm reaches out.

Your hand clasps his and the boy lifts you off your feet.

“My name is Y/N.” You smile at him happily, giggling when he tries to shake off your grip but fails to do so. You fear if you’ll let him go, your new friend will disappear into the pandemonium. “What’s your name?”

“Hoseok.” He sighs when he realizes that you’re going to stick around him now. But he decides you both might as well do something together. “You wanna paint?”

You loll your head, following his finger that’s pointed to the round table with the green stools and brushes laying on the watercolour sets. Hoseok patiently waits for your answer and you give another toothy smile, letting your dress twirl when you look at him again. “Okay!”

Four-years old is when you meet Jung Hoseok at preschool and you become stuck to his side like gum, declaring him as your best friend while discovering his enjoyment for painting; how he marks up white printer paper until it’s drenched in vivid hues, scribbling with brushes until all the brush hairs has fallen off. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, you’re his greatest friend!

“Paint me! Paint me!”

“No.” He ignores your crestfallen expression. “Don’t wanna.”

It’s too difficult to hold back the sadness and you can’t help but cry, “Why?”

The boy huffs out, turning away from you until you face his backside. “Cause I said so.”

It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Hoseok would paint you if he could. But there’s not really a colour in the watercolour set that could be used to show how brightly your eyes shine.

Plus, he knows he’s not that good. It would be mean to make you ugly. Especially when you’re far from it in reality.

Fate’s smile never ceases its smile. Even when years pass and you’re slowly getting a better grip on yourself, it seems like life has always shown you a better side of itself. Well...for the most part at least...

“Y/N, why are you disrupting class again?” The teacher at the front slaps down her whiteboard marker on the metal ledge, exhaling and giving you a hardened glare. “Do we need to have another chat outside?”

You wince from the sharp tone, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the class of thirty students have turned around to stare at you. “I’m sorry.” You sink lower in your desk seat. “I-I can’t find my writing journal. I think someone stole it…”

The teacher scoffs. “Well does it look like we’re writing, right now? We’re doing social studies, so please, sit up straight and open your textbook to page one hundred seventy-four. Now. Please.”

Everyone turns back to the notes on the board and you downcast your head, trying your best to pay attention but to no avail. To the side, a friend offers some consolation through a warm smile, though before she can lean over and whisper to you, the teacher gives the both of you the stink eye. The old woman’s voice drones on and on about the geography of the world, explaining a worksheet and what shade to use when colouring the countries in.

As an eight-year old, third grade was the worst.

Not only was the teacher mean to you, the classes were boring and you didn’t have that many friends. Most of the girls didn’t like you very much since you didn’t like to play with dolls anymore and you weren’t that interested in discussing crushes or soulmates. You liked to write but they thought that was boring. Friends or no friends, it was fine by you. But it was still kind of lonely.

“I still can’t find my journal.”

The teacher, sitting at her desk, looks up at you with her reading spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. “Well that’s what happens when you’re too irresponsible with your belongings, Y/N. You should learn how to be more organized.”

“But I left it inside my desk in the corner like always!” While defending yourself, your voice moves up a pitch, and she seems to get annoyed from the sound. “It’s not fair! I think someone took it!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! The door’s always locked.” She sighs, exhausted from having to reason with an illogical child. “Stop blaming other people for your mistakes, Y/N. If it’s lost, then it’s lost because of you. You’ll just have to re-do all the assignments and entries I gave.”

“But-”

“I don’t tolerate any back talk. Now go outside like you’re supposed to. The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes.” The woman doesn’t offer any more chances as she turns back to her stack of papers, thirty booklets full of worksheets that were handed in and had to be marked by the end of the week.

You open your mouth to retort but a staggering breath leaves instead. Your shoulders droop with defeat and you force yourself to drag your feet out of the classroom, frame quivering with sobs threatening to break through your throat. The hallway grows blurry in your vision, clouded with tears but you clench your fist, nails digging into your skin, repressing the urge to cry.

“Y/N?”

You slowly turn around at the familiar voice and quickly, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Hey, Hoseok. What’s up?”

“Nothin’. Are you okay?” He steps forward, meeting you halfway and you meekly nod.

“Ms. Choi is a mean witch so it’s whatever.”

Hoseok laughs and you find your lips upturning at the sound.

One of the biggest reasons third grade completely sucks is because Hoseok isn’t your best friend anymore. Actually, he hadn’t really been your friend since two years ago when you entered first grade. It seemed like in your school, girls hung out with girls and the boys would do their own thing. As much as you disliked it, you couldn’t do much when your friends pulled you away to the other side of the playground where the park benches were and Hoseok was off at the field playing soccer with his other classmates.

You can’t actually remember the last time you talked to Hoseok. Anytime when you did, whether it be during class or outside, your peers would ask you if you liked him or if you’re dating or if he’s your soulmate. You don’t even know what any of that means.

(Also, there’s the whole rumour that you can catch germs from boys but you don’t think that’s right).

“Did you find your journal?”

“No.” You whimper, downcasting your head at the reminder and afraid that you’ll really begin to start crying. It would be so humiliating to do it in front of him - you’d never return to school again. “I think it’s lost.”

“It isn’t.” He smiles and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both his arms and thrusting it out in front of you. A gasp spills from your lips and your doe eyes dilate from the recognizable bright green cover. “I found it in the lost and found.”

You grasp at the notebook, taking it into your hands, feeling the metal coil beneath your fingertips and the wrinkled pages full of erasing, scribbling and doodles. “Thank you.” You choke out words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you. I-I thought it was gone forever. I thought it was stolen.”

“By Seokjin, right?” He smiles when you nod. “Yeah, I think he stole my pencil too. I lent him a sharper once and it was gone by the end of the day. No one believes us when we tattle on him.”

“You’re the best, Hobi!” It’s a nickname that you haven’t said in a while, and he’s about to mumble something back but you smother him in a tight hug. Hoseok pretends he’s being choked to death, making hacking sounds and muttering your name but you don’t let up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, sure.” He uses all his strength to rip your arms away from his neck, prying it off in a hurried pace before someone else sees. His breath steadies and he glares at you. But you remain smiling at him, and he scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “I hope it’s okay but I read some of it.”

“What?” Your eyes enlarge. “You did?!”

“Yeah.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s actually not bad but you suck at spelling.” You smile sheepishly at him, acknowledging your bad marks in every spelling pop quiz. “I could fix it for you if you want me to.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” You don’t want to bother him anymore than you already have. It’s already made you happy enough to have your journal back and to hear that your writing is pretty good; technically he said ‘not bad’ but you’re taking it is a compliment. “Thanks though.”

The boy in his green plain shirt and trousers is beginning to say something but a hall monitor strides down the hall and whips his head over at the sight of you. “Hey! Aren’t you kids supposed to be outside for recess?!”

You and Hoseok exchange a startled look before you both book it out the doors together.

At twelve, fate begins to show its ugly side. Technically not as much as your ugly side.

It’s painful to admit but you look like the ‘before’ shot of those cosmetic surgery advertisements - bad skin, pimpled face, gawky glasses, braces, awkwardly cut hair, limbs too long — the whole nine yards and more.

It also doesn’t help that you feel like everyone else looks like they came straight out of a magazine, blown out hair, flawless features, a perfect smile and trendy clothing. So, it’s probably not all in your mind that people are staring and talking behind your back when you walk to your locker or to go to class. Why did puberty have to fuck you up so badly?

“What are you talking about?” Your friend rests against the washroom counter. “You’re so pretty Y/N. You just don’t see it.”

The reflection in the mirror says otherwise.

You look over at her with an unimpressed expression. A lump lodges in your throat when you detect pity in her gaze but you ignore it. “Thanks but I feel really horrible. My skin is itchy and I feel bloated and this is probably too TMI, but my bowel movements haven’t been great.”

“You’re fineeee.” She emphasizes, flicking a piece of dirt from under her nails. “Trust me when I say it’s a lot worse in your head. No one cares, you know. They’re all too concerned about themselves anyways. But it’ll get better, Y/N. Chin up.”

“...Thanks.”

It’s not like you wanted all these insecurities. It just happened to knock on your door, barge inside without a warning and now you constantly feel bad about yourself no matter where you go. The world would be a lot better if it were socially acceptable to wear a plastic bag over your head.

“I better get back to Mr. Jeon’s math class before he freaks out and sends someone to go look for me.” She checks her phone once and then pats you on the back, standing back on both feet. “See you at lunch, Y/N.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The moment your friend walks out the washroom door, you look back at the silver mirror with a long sigh. No matter what you do, how much foundation or concealer you pack onto your face, it doesn’t help anything. You can either look like a peasant girl or a clown - you’re not sure what’s worse.

You reach deep into your hoodie pocket, a sleek surface meeting your fingertips and you hesitantly pull the small object out. It’s a lipstick that you smuggled from your mother’s makeup bag this morning. The pink bullet is soft and pretty in hue but you’re aware the moment it meets your mouth, it’ll look like a child trying to play dress-up.

“All or nothing.”

You murmur to yourself using some encouraging clichés and then, your hand lifts to dab on the colour. With the lightest touch and your pinky smearing the product, you pop your lips, taking a step back to look at yourself. And wow.

For once, you don’t feel like a roach emerging from the back of a dumpster.

You throw open the door, strutting down the hall. Despite no one being around, you feel like a glorious supermodel and the paparazzi are hidden in the corner, your idol waiting with a bouquet of red roses at the end of the aisle, an epic soundtrack playing to each of your steps. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all you needed to be rich and pretty. Maybe he’ll finally look at y-

“Y/N?”

You whirl yourself around, heart stuttering inside your chest. “H-hey Hoseok. What are you doing?”

The teenager is in a green sweatshirt, baggy jeans and breaking school rules by wearing a snapback hat indoors. He puts down his phone, stuffing the device and his earphones into his pocket and shrugs. “Bathroom.”

You smile, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re not skipping class, are you?”

“Nah.” His hands dig around his clothing and he hums. “Do you have some change I can borrow? I need to buy something at the vending machine and I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

“Oh, no problem.” You reach into your own pocket before taking out the tiny pink pouch that your aunt gave to you for your birthday. It takes a second until you take out a five dollar bill, lifting it up and into his palm. Your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin and you withdraw your limb like the movement burns you. Hoseok gives you a strange look but dismisses it.

“I-I don’t have change, just this but you can keep it. You don’t have to pay it back to me.”

The boy appears stunned and he furrows his brows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s stare was becoming too intense anyways. “It’s fine.”

“Are you going back to class?” he asks and you nod. “We can go together then.”

“Don’t you need to use the washroom?”

“It’s fine. I’ll walk you back.”

“O-okay then.” It’s terribly awkward and you loathe yourself on having such inept social skills. If it were anyone else, they’d probably be able to find another topic of conversation and switch over smoothly, destroying the tense silence but alas, you are only a twelve-year old who has no such natural talent. “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while. What kind of classes do you have?”

The subject that you do bring up makes you cringe inside.

Who even wants to talk about school in their free time?!

Hoseok seems to get an inkling of your inner turmoil since he rips his eyes away from the profile of your face to the end of the corridor, smiling to himself discreetly. “Y/N, we literally have the same classes together. We see each other everyday.”

“Right.” You recoil, cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. “Well, we might see each other, but we don’t really talk. You’re always sitting in the back of the classroom.”

“And you’re sitting in the front.” The adolescent beside you laughs. “Who knew Y/N would one day become the smartest student?”

“I-I’m not. Plus, I’m sure you get better grades than I do.” It was true, anytime the teacher asked you to hand back tests or quizzes, you snuck a peek at the grade marked in the corner of the page and for every single one, he either got a hundred or close to it. Most of your peers didn’t know but you did. “You’re the smarter one here, I suck at math and science and-.....Hoseok? Is there something wrong?”

His eyes are fixated on your mouth. “No. You just have a little of pink right there.”

He points to your cupid’s bow and you reach up, flustered and perplexed that he noticed the makeup you put on. You wonder if it’s bad or if it makes you even uglier than before. “Where?”

“Almost. To the left a bit.”

“Here?”

“To the right. Up. No. Go down a bit. Here, let me do it.” Hoseok pulls you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder and his thumb on his other hand raises to your lips, rubbing away the colour. The touch is feather-light but from the mere proximity, you’re absolutely stunned at what’s happening. Your eyes enlarge, heartbeat pounding in your ears and your mouth fills with cotton.

Whether he’s actually dense, or he knows the effect you get from him, he doesn’t make any comments. After a moment, Hoseok pulls away. “There. It looks pretty nice, by the way.”

“T-thanks.” The pair of you walk the rest of the way in silence. It’s only when you’ve reached the classroom door that you notice he’s a few meters behind you, lingering and glancing at the ceiling. “Are you not coming in?”

He hitches his thumb to the other end. “I have to grab something at my locker so you should go in first.”

“Okay.” You watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the boy takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him. Since when did he become so tall? You’re not sure but all you know is that there’s a feeling inside your chest, depriving from an unknown source and you inhale a breath, taking the leap of courage.

“Wait. Hoseok.”

He turns. “Hmm?”

Perhaps it is destiny that has given you the bravery that you’ve lacked for so many years.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you more. Sometimes it’s difficult since you’re friends with those guys and I’m-”

You have no one. You’re not pretty. You can’t socialize well. You’re literally the most boring person on this planet. And you harbour a huge fat crush that inhibits you from making any interaction towards him.

“We’re both in different circles.” Hoseok finishes your sentence and you laugh stiffly. That too. Yet, despite your self-consciousness and metal self-deprecation, he laughs happily and it alleviates the mood. “No, I get that. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just think we should talk more. I kind of...miss….you…” You’re mumbling at this point, volume becoming quieter and quieter until it’s a squeak. You don’t even know what the hell you’re saying and your face is on fire. It doesn't help that Hoseok's gazing at you so intently without speaking a single word.

“...that’s all.” To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly turn to the door, hand grabbing the door, ready to twist your wrist and enter inside.

Except, you never get the chance.

“Wait. Y/N.” Your old childhood friend has his hand wrapped around your wrist and if steam wasn’t leaving your ears before, now it is. “I lied.”

“What?”

“I didn’t forget my wallet. I don’t even need to buy anything in the vending machine.” He diverts his eyes, avoiding your stare and frown of confusion. “The rest of class made a mess, and then they ditched to go to the cafeteria. If you go back, you’ll get in trouble for sure.”

Even with the delayed response from your end, you can only manage one single syllable. “What?”

“I’m sorry for lying.” After his stupid classmates had ran wild, throwing paint all over the walls, flipping over tables and desks when the substitute teacher had walked out of the room, they all grabbed their bags and spirited away. The first person Hoseok thought about was you.

You had left to go to the washroom, unaware of what was unfolding and instead of leaving with his friends, he wandered around till he found you. A sick, twisted part of him was curious to see how stupid and gullible you are - he wasn’t disappointed either. You believed him so easily, he didn’t even need to try. But what Hoseok failed to calculate was his own guilt and his weakness.

You.

“You can hate me if you want to, that doesn’t matter.” He reaches to grab the five dollar bill, and he slaps it back into your hands. “And you can snitch to the principal but don’t go back in.”

“Hoseok.” A smile slips on your lips and you become sheepish. “I don’t hate you. Far from it actually. Just...I could never hate you. You’re still my friend.” Hoseok’s fingers still wrapped around yours, preventing you from entering the horrific classroom and the dollar bill in your other hand proves it so. “So, let’s go?”

Your friend smiles, releasing his grip and grateful that you don’t want to kick his ass. “Last one to the vending machines has to buy!”

A gasp sounds from your mouth when he takes off running and you laugh, shouting after him and probably disturbing all the other classes going on. “Hey! That’s so not fair!”

The class drones on and on. It’s absolutely unbearable. Heads are bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake while some have given up all together, sleeping on their desks with their heads rested in their folded arms. The teacher doesn’t seem to care, continuing with her lesson as it was planned.

“Soulmates are a very peculiar phenomenon in our modern society today and many scientists have yet to discover the reason as to why since it isn’t very biologically efficient. It doesn’t seem like genetics or family history play a huge part, sometimes soulmates are outright opposites while other times they are very similar to each other. It may just be a psychological occurrence.”

“All they have been able to conclude thus far is when soulmates meet, both parties experience a euphoria of emotions, each of them enhanced and the effects are very similar to some type of drugs out there. The love and passion are like none other. Typically, there are two types of soulmates that people can have. One, there is literally only one person that is your soulmate. Two, there are several people living in the world that could be your soulmate. It differs with each individual and again, no one knows the answer yet. Perhaps someday we'll know.”

The only person actually listening is some guy at the front of the class. He raises his hand and the teacher calls upon him. “What about people who don’t have either?”

“Ah...yes...those folks are...rare and far in between.” The teacher wears a melancholic expression, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with the topic. “People without soulmates can find companionship, but they most likely end up alone, in this life and the next and the next….”

She concludes with- “it’s unfortunate.”

Your forehead nearly smacks against the wooden surface of the desk as you’re lulled to sleep but your neck snaps back before you can hurt yourself. Fuck. You rub your eyes, screaming inside your head out of pure boredom. Then, an idea flickers inside your brain and you lean over to your friend sitting beside you in the other row.

“Hey, I’ll make a bet with you.” At your voice, she perks her head up, eyes sparkling in interest. “Bet Mr. Min won’t visit Ms. Kang today. Five bucks, what do you think?”

She smirks. “You’re on.”

Lo and behold, the familiar blonde headed teacher sticks his head through the door, thankfully interrupting class and cracking a few jokes while shocking sleeping students awake with his cheerful voice. As Ms. Kang flirts with the chemistry teacher, your friend giggles while you pull out a crisp bill, handing it to her.

“Okay, you win this time.” You sulk, looking back into your barren pocket.

“I’ll bet you one more time.” Your friend grins, starting to have fun since class began. “If Mr. Min doesn’t stay for more than ten minutes, I’ll give you your five dollars back and an additional ten. But if he does stay for over ten minutes, I get ten bucks from you.”

You contemplate the options, weighing each reward and consequence. It sounded appealing, not only would you get your money back but even more? Plus, Ms. Kang was actually teaching a full lesson today and there was a test tomorrow. Surely, he would leave, so she could continue addressing the class. You smirk at your newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

In the next twelve minutes, you hand over more money.

Your friend laughs her head off, clutching onto your stomach and you can only sigh from your multiple defeats. Another classmate turns around and asks what the two of you are up to.

“We’re making bets.” Your friend wipes away the tears that have welled up. “Y/N keeps losing.”

“Ooh count me in.”

Someone else who was eavesdropping swivels around. “Me too.”

The teacher is still chatting away with Mr. Min at the front of the classroom with a group of students while the rest of you wait in boredom. There’s nothing like an entertaining game with monetary prizes to liven up an atmosphere. “Who wants to bet that she’ll forget to hand out homework?”

“Let’s bet to see if this paper airplane can go outside the window and into the classroom across from us.”

“Bet that I can’t sneak out without anyone else noticing.”

By the end of the hour and by the time the lunch bell has rung, your wallet is completely empty and everyone else has left to go eat. As you collect your belongings, stuffing markers and pens back into the pencil case, grabbing your notebooks and slinging your backpack around one shoulder, you can only hope that time will move quicker.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, hey Hobi.” You smile, watching him grab his water bottle that he accidentally left near his chair at the back. “I’m fucking broke, that’s what.”

He opens the door and you both walk out together. “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you’re always losing. Your gambling skills suck.”

You exhale, having too many regrets and fearing what your dad will say when you ask him for a second allowance this week. The money from your summer part-time job was gone as well and all you can think of doing is sobbing on your knees, pleading about your penniless lifestyle. “I thought I could win my money back.”

“Never go to a casino, you idiot.” Hoseok stops by his locker and throws his biology textbook inside. He closes it and walks diagonally down the hall to your own locker where you grab your gym bag for your next class after the bell. “You’d end up wasting your life savings away and you’d be living under a bridge.”

“Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?”

He laughs and swings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you two accompany each other in synchronized steps. It’s a familiar gesture and you’re no longer flustered from being in a close proximity from Hoseok. The infatuation that plagued you during your preteen years has long disappeared.

High School was a whole nother game, people dating more seriously and futures on the horizon. You couldn’t be very bothered to crush over an old friend when you were more preoccupied with getting into the university you wanted.

“Why are you glaring at me?”

“I’m not.”

At this age, you thought Hoseok would reach his own ugly phase. Puberty tended to affect boys in later years but even at sixteen, the bastard is still decent looking. While you grew more into your skin, learnt to become comfortable in your body and appreciate your flaws for what they are, you expected him to go through a similar thing that you did back then. Yet, never in a day of his life did Hoseok have awkward limbs or bad skin or an awful haircut. Rather, his rounded cheeks were becoming chiseled, his jawline sharper and his hair gelled into a neat fashion.

And for you, rather than admiring his handsome looks, you’re goddamn jealous of his genetics and beautiful face. Why did fate have to be such an unfair bitch?

“You spent your lunch money, didn’t you?”

On cue, your stomach grumbles and you give him a surprised look. “How did you know?”

“Cause you don’t have any control.” Hoseok reaches over, pinching your cheek and you slap his hand away, cringing at the thought of his dirty fingers clogging your pores and giving you acne. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

You halt on your toes. He turns around.

“Wait. Really?!”

The boy smiles, his grin loosely resembling a heart shape. His eyes crinkle slightly and a bubbling laughter spills from his mouth. “Yeah, but you owe me big time.”

“When don’t I?” You smile, catching up to him and giving him a good old noogie. “You’re the best.”

His smile becomes sheepish, and he gazes at you for a long moment, savouring in your touch and presence. “I know.”

There was something strange about you. From the moment he had met you a decade ago and held out his hand, he always felt a tugging feeling in his chest, as if you were familiar, and he knew you from somewhere else, from somewhere far away. But you weren’t his soulmate.

Such a thing was impossible for Jung Hoseok.

The world revolves around the concept of soulmates.

You didn’t realize it until you became much older and you stepped out from the small schools that you went to, the same classes and circle of friends that shuffled together from one year to the next. College was a time when your world expanded ten folds, where you couldn’t recognize three quarters of your classmates, where campus made you lost every single day.

It also opened to your eyes to the obsession that people had with soulmates; how some folks were absolute consumed with it, going out to bars to talk to strangers, testing to see if they were a kindred soul, having date after date, entering camps and exclusive clubs to seek out their match, downloading special apps on phones to search for their true love.

One of the few questions that you were asked quite frequently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’

Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told their own stories of how they accidentally ran into the person they were meant to be with, and they knew instantly at that second. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you.

That’s how fate is supposed to work.

Except it worked much differently for you- “I’m never going to find my soulmate, am I?”

“What?” Your dad puts down his spoon, startled and taken back. The dinner table is silenced. “Who told you that?”

“Some people just take a bit of time.” Your mom smiles to soothe your nonsensical worries. “I know it took me years to run into your dad.”

You sigh, recalling the memory like it's imprinted to the back of your hand. “Grandma told me I'd be single for my entire life and the next.”

“Dear…your grandmother was very ill before she died. She just didn't know what she was saying. Don't let it get to you.”

“She told me that a long time before she passed away.” You look at your parents for an extended moment, holding your breath in your lungs. You're an adult now and you have a right to know the truth. “You guys know it, right? Can you please not lie to me?”

“Don't give up hope, you hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding for any retorts or comments. “I don't care what the doctors, nurses and psychologists say or even what your grandma told you. You’ll meet the one.”

She says it with such certainty, like she's declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

You've heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you've even seen it with your own eyes. It's supposed to be a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught. The universe is supposed to shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder; happiness will become euphoria and love will become a deepening and familiar companion.

The gaping hole that individuals never knew existed will be filled. They will no longer walk alone. They'll feel whole. It's everything that Hollywood movies show except it's real. It's perfect. It's a rose-coloured world.

And all you can do is roll your eyes each and every time you hear it.

Some people are born without soulmates. There’s no rhyme or reason. It has nothing to do with the way you were brought up, the environment factors or your genetic material. Like some people are innately extroverted or introverted. There’s nothing you can do about it and that thought hurts you even more.

Your world isn’t rose but a green-coloured world.

“Wait! Wait for me! Please!”

Despite your arm waving in the air, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, the bus pulls away from the curb, signalling into the lane. “Fuck!” Your arm tightens around the strap of your bag and you pick up your speed, racing with all your might. “Stop!”

The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes, each step splattering puddles onto your pants. But it doesn’t matter that you’re being drenched as if you stepped into the shower. You’re late for class.

If you miss this bus then you’re done for.

“I’m here! I’m here!”

Right where you’re mere meters from the bus’ door, your foot juts out for another leap but you miscalculate your environment and your front toes collide onto the metal pole bus sign.

“OW! FUCKING SHIT!”

Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your dirtied shoe. The passersby with their umbrellas or under the bus shelter don’t bat a single eyelash and you are alone, under the rain, putting pressure on your wound. It feels like you’ve just broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your sock. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, the bus merges and drives off, disappearing in the distant fog.

“Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the crying sky, knocking your head back and letting your stubbed toes pulsate and throb inside your shoe.

You don’t have an umbrella. Your phone is dead. There’s no way you can contact an Uber. Thus, all you can do is limp your way to school in the pouring storm, looking at the roads every so often for a taxi. Fortunately, fate isn’t such a nasty bitch when you catch a yellow vehicle driving down the street. Unfortunately, the taxi doesn’t see you in time and it drives past, too close to the gutter.

The sewer water splashes like an ocean wave crashing on the shore and if you weren’t drenched before, now you’re soaking wet, drowning in rainwater and sewage.

“Y/N?”

A familiar and warm presence appears behind you. Their umbrella drapes over your head, shielding you away from the cold droplets and it patters on the green canopy instead. Instead of bursting into tears like you felt you should, a smile graces your lips. You’ve never been more thankful to have this person around and in your life.

No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve been having the shittiest day, Hobi. Literally the worst.” You turn around with a massive pout, sulking at your situation and cringing at how your textbooks and laptop in your bag are probably wet as well. “But what are you doing here?”

He hitches his thumb to the black car parked by the curb. “I was driving past and I thought I saw you. I stopped to make sure. Aren’t you going to be late for class though? Get in my car, I can drive you to school.”

“A-are you sure? I mean, I’m soaking right now and I can just keep walking-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” He grins, patting your head to placate your worries, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder to support you to the toasty vehicle. His other hand is holding the handle of the umbrella, and he tilts it to cover you completely, letting the rain drizzle on his left side. Your old friend doesn’t seem that concerned about getting drenched and momentarily, the pain in your foot has alleviated. “I have class anyways. We’re going to the same place.”

Before getting into the car, you shift your head to gaze into his softened, brown irises.

Regardless of what troubles you face, the struggles that present itself, Jung Hoseok is always around the corner. He’s your truest friend, the one who has stood by you for the longest time and the man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies. Maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

“Thank you.”

He grins and you’ve sincerely never felt more gratitude.

Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

Sure, it might’ve been predictable to everyone else since all the cliché romance books and movies always depict childhood friends becoming lovers, unrequited loves and harboured crushes becoming reciprocated, happily ever afters emerging from the horizons. You just never knew it was going to happen to you.

You might’ve been massively infatuated with Hoseok years ago but you thought you grew out of that phase. At the end of the day, he’s a good friend; someone who watched you pick your nose in preschool, when you shit yourself in kindergarten because you couldn’t control your bowels yet, the time he witnessed when you called your teacher ‘mom’. He’s been through it all, thick and thin, disgusting and all the rancid memories. Your family knows his, mothers that have become friends themselves and fathers buddies. Hoseok was supposed to be a brother to you.

But lo and behold, you had to catch feelings.

Fate was a cunning asshole.

“Sorry for getting your car all wet. I was sitting in class dripping everywhere.” You wring out a bundle of your hair, the damp strands clinging to your neck in an uncomfortable fashion.

Hoseok, from across the table, wriggles his brows up and down. “Oh, I don’t mind if you’re wet at all.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, playfully scoffing at the innuendo. Brushing it off, you set aside your laptop to look at your friend. “Thanks though. I think I would’ve been screwed if I had to walk.”

“Jung Hoseok here to save the day again!” He gives a blazing smile, pretending to be a superhero as he does the superman pose. You laugh, and he lowers his fist, expression melting into a warmer smile. “But is your foot okay? You were limping.”

You’re surprised that he noticed but you nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

The library is deathly quiet on a Friday at nine o’ clock. There are only a few people sitting around and assistants shelving books. At twenty-one, it isn’t uncommon for your peers to be out at a frat house or crashing a venue around campus, getting wasted and grinding up on each other, maybe meeting ‘the one’ out on the dance floor or at the bar. Hoseok has especially made a name for himself in the years at college, dating around and being the life of the party.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing but you’ve felt slightly alienated from him since you weren’t big on the whole partying thing. You’d much prefer to curl up on a couch, binging on Netflix and chewing on snacks in the comfort of your own home.

“Why are you here? Weren’t you invited to any parties?”

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. Why would I want to go to one when you’re sitting right here.” His greasy remark has you huffing out tiredly, and he giggles. “Plus, who would drive you home?”

“I can take public transit, you know. It runs until twelve.” You don’t want to be a burden to Hoseok or make him babysit you like a little sister or a pet. If he’s here for the wrong reasons, it would hurt even more than if you were alone. “And aren’t you seeing Yoonji right now? You should probably be out with her instead of me.”

“No, I’m not seeing her.” He resists the urge to pull on your puffed out cheeks. Hoseok leans his chin in his propped up hand, savouring your sulking expression. “I’m single actually, have been for a long time now. And also, if I hear that you got murdered on your way home or if you slipped on some water and broke a hip, my mom would never be able to forgive me. She’ll burn my entire manga collection and probably run me over with her car.”

“Of course your mom would.” You stick out your tongue, intentionally ignoring what he said about not dating anyone. “She loves me a lot more than she loves you.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” The man lazily flips through his textbook, barely skimming the pages and not reading correctly like how he should be. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

Your head perks up from the document on your laptop and you give the most unimpressed expression, arousing laughter from the male. “Do you think I have? No one can love me - I’m unlovable.”

That and you don’t have a soulmate.

“That’s not true. I love you.”

What. No. Wait. He probably means it in a brotherly-friendship kind of way.

“Righttttt...” You bob your head up and down, narrowing your eyes and forcing yourself to dispel away all your delusional thoughts. “Well, I love you too.”

“Okay, great.” He looks up from his textbook. “We should go on a date then.”

“.....” There’s a pause. He waits patiently with a smile. You stare at him. “What?!”

“It’s really convenient.” He quirks his head to the side, mischief glimmering in his orbs. “I love you, you love me. It works out. So, we should go on a date...unless you don’t want to.”

“....I-I do but where is this coming from, Hoseok?” You lower your pitch, leaning closer as if someone from the ten tables over could hear. The situation unravelling before you is so sudden that you fail to wrap your brain around it.

“What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” The male gives you a look. “Hasn’t it been obvious? I’ve liked you for years! And wow, I can’t believe you’re making me expose myself to you when you haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

He throws his arms over his chest, appearing vandalized but you’re in no mood for jokes.

“B-but...but…” All those signs that you convinced yourself weren’t signs are actually signs?

The endeared gazes, the overly affectionate physical contact, the lingering touches, the smiles and late night texts were all indications. Your mind is reeling from memories for the past decade, wondering if this or that was evidence for his hidden feelings. It feels surreal, like a dream.

You fear if you wake up from it, reality and fate will be much crueler.

“You don’t need to feel pressured, Y/N.” Hoseok stares down at his textbook, avoiding your eyes and becoming embarrassed about finally declaring his feelings openly to you. His voice is quiet but you can hear each word, carrying a weight that bears sincerity in each syllable.

“You can say no if you want to, and we can go back to being friends. I just...I never knew if the feelings were mutual and the timing was always off. I tried to date other people but it...didn’t work out.”

He takes a deep breath, put on the spot and pressured not to mess up. You’re an important person in his life and the last thing he wants is to scare you off forever.

“What about your soulmate?”

It’s the first thing that crosses your mind, a concern that is unbearable and one you can’t erase away. What’s the point of creating something more if he’ll meet his soulmate later on. You’ll be left in the dust, alone, forced to face the memories of ‘what happened but could never last’.

But Jung Hoseok, being the person that he is, always manages to make your anxieties disappear.

“You don’t have to worry about something like that.”

It’s too simple of an answer. Yet, like the fool that you are, you trust in him. “Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

A grin spreads across his face, one that swells his cheeks and heart. “Right now.”

You flinch when he suddenly slaps his textbook closed and you follow along, packing away your laptop and pens. Luckily, no one was really around to be angry over the disturbances the pair of you were making. “Right now?”

Hoseok smiles. “Last one out the library has to pay.”

Fate is too kind - and you realize so when you become aware that you were never alone.

“You’re on.”

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several. They’re fated to fall in love with their other half, a kindred spirit or soul, or a fragment of themselves. The love could be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence that makes home a true home. Each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and any loneliness is dispelled away.

You have Jung Hoseok.

He’s a friend and companion, a partner that you cherish. While one date becomes two and three and five until you’ve lost count, all you know is that soulmate or not, you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your days with him.

“That movie was really good, like did you see the part where he came out of the space shuttle to confront her on the planet Neptune? Like wow, I thought he was going to die for sure but he risked his life for her. And then-”

“Hoseok.” You stop in the parking lot of the theaters, twisting on your ankle to look at him.

A sweet smile is still on his mouth, and he quirks his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The boy’s taken back and he laughs. “Where did that come from?”

“I was thinking about it the whole day today.” You play with the hem of your sweater, diverting your attention elsewhere while you murmur softly, “We’ve been on so many dates, but we haven’t really done anything aside from holding hands…..”

Albeit it was strange to date such a good friend, you still longed to get closer to him.

Hoseok throws back his head like he’s in pain, and he whines. “I was going to kiss you later before you left but you beat me to it.” He pouts in defeat and then steps closer, cupping your cheeks in his palms with a softened smile. “Of course you can kiss me, Y/N. You don’t really need to ask.”

Your eyes flutter shut and his close. Together, you move closer inch by inch until you can feel his lips on yours. A smile moves across your face, and he presses harder, tilting his head while you throw your arms around his neck. It’s nice but kind of awkward. The movement is foreign to you, though the pleasant tingles melt any tension in your muscles.

Hoseok deepens the kiss, making a muffled sound leave your throat, and he savours your taste on his tongue. But suddenly, one moment you feel pleasure and the next, your head begins to throb.

You don’t pull away, too addicted to his kiss. Then, there’s a burst of electricity.

The flare rushes to your fingertips, heart stuttering, breath choking you. Underneath your eyelids, the universe halts and then begins to revolve again, faster, louder until it’s deafening and shining in such bright hues that it’s blinding. The happiness that rings through your bones becomes euphoria and love slaps you across the cheek.

Maybe this is what people described when they meet your soulmate. But no. It’s much different from that.

You are not so fortunate of an individual.

An onslaught of memories, versions of yourself across centuries, comes barging through the door in screams. They shout and screech, begging to know as to what the hell you’re doing. The thumping of your head becomes white noise. You pull away from Hoseok like he burns you.

The boy is as startled as you are, eyes wide, staggering back until he collapses on the concrete ground.

“I-I remember…”

You stare at him in sheer horror. “Fuck you.”

Fate has never once smiled at you, it was cackling. Fate was never kind either, it was absolutely vicious. And instead of a soulmate, you have something much different. Jung Hoseok is a parasite that transcends time, destined to run each path that you take. He is an enemy.

You’ve finally woken up from the dream.

[16th Century]

A gentle knock on the door wakes you from your slumber.

You sit up amidst the silk sheets and the hinges of the massive wooden door creaks. A servant maid peeks her head through the gap and the light from the hallway sheds into the darkened room. “Good morning, your royal highness.”

“Is there a cause for your disturbance?”

The tone of your voice rings above the high ceilings and the girl noticeably winces. She keeps her head downcasted. “Yo-your highness, the artisan has arrived.”

“Is that so?” You hum a thoughtful note before snapping back at her, “then what are you waiting for? Help me prepare.”

Immediately she enters and draws the heavy curtains away from the window. Sunshine meets your eyes and you find a smile emerging on your lips. She guides you off the bed, helping you splash your face with a cloth, combing your hair back and pinning it up with green ribbons and ropes of pearls. The lace corset is tied tightly around your abdomen, restricting your breathing but you endure it as you study the dress in the mirror. It’s a rather simple dress, a natural waistline and floor length, flowy sleeves and skirt, the jade fabric decorated with golden colours.

“I think this is perfect, don’t you?”

You twirl in front a few times and the maid smiles. “Yes, your highness. You look marvelous.”

Upon being satisfied with her response, you address your servant one last time. “Do not utter a word to the king that I am meeting the painter, understood? If he asks of my presence, tell him I am in the study quarters.”

“Yes, your highness.”

The gardens are far away, across towers and courtyards, but you make it there in less than five minutes while hitching your clothing up by the fistful, running in the most unsophisticated manner that would surely cause scoldings from your mother. Yet, you continue on your way nevertheless.

It’s only a strong gust of wind and an accidental misstep causes you to stumble. You are pushed to the ground, colliding onto the verdant grass, a shock rippling through your body. Immediately, you are shamed. Your knees are bruised, your gown soiled and palms stained with dirt. In the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, your bottom lip trembles, threatening to break out into sobs.

“Do not cry, your highness.”

You lift your chin and a tall shadow looms over you. The man wears no smile, an emerald circular cloak draped over his shoulders and an embroidered shirt underneath. His gaze is not cold but intense, yet, it does not make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were to fall like raindrops.

“Only infants shed such heart wrenching tears.” A soft smile appears across his lips, a fixated stare on your flushing visage but the serious man is the same age as you. His pitch black hair is more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction and some paint has splattered on the skin of his cheek. “And I fear it would ruin your beauty.”

He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment and then your arm reaches out, fingers clasping his and the male lifts you off your feet. The touch is soothing and light, causing your heart to soar inside your chest.

“Don’t be foolish. I’ve never shed tears before you, understood?”

You dust off your dress and he grins.

“Yes, your highness.”

The man tries to loosen his grip on your hand but fails to do so when you grasp at him tighter, lacing your fingers through his and not allowing him to let go. A snort of air leaves his nose, and he accepts the new position, guiding you deeper into the royal gardens with bushes of foreign flowers and tall trees lining the cobblestone paths, the scent of florals wafting through the air.

Farther into the quaint and private place, a canvas is set around vivid oil paints and brushes. He has begun to recreate the image of the blooming orchards and you study the artwork that has yet to be completed.

“My father has commissioned you as the royal painter but why have you not painted me?”

Your dress twirls when you look at him again. Jung Hoseok, the man who creates another world with brilliant hues, passionately brushing strokes along the canvas, has been by your side for months and here he is once more, smiling at you.

“I cannot, your highness.” He lowers his head. “I fear that there is no paint I could use that would show how brightly your eyes shine.”

You spin around to face the bushes, cheeks flaming with each praise. “Please, you flatter me too much, painter.”

“Ah, but my words are too true, your highness.” He paces around and you lock your gaze upon his. “My skills would be no match to the reality of your beauty.”

You sigh, longing to have the man closer. Each second and minute that passes feels too short.

“Painter, I fear my lonely soul enjoys your companionship too much. It’s a shame that you were not born of a royal lineage. My father would never allow such a partnership. He would rather let this kingdom crumble than to give my hand to a commoner.”

“I understand your woes too clearly, your highness.” He takes three delicate strides to meet you in the middle of the grassy area, chest pressed upon chest and his fingers lightly skimming over your blooming cheeks. If anyone from the court were to catch you in such a position, the painter’s life would be at risk, but he seems to pay no mind to such thing.

“And although I hunger to clutch your hand to my chest, embrace your being, declare you as mine and taste those lips with my own, we are but star crossed lovers.” He exhales, sorrow dripping from his honeyed eyes. “Fate is not so kind to folk like us.”

You turn away from him in despair, staring up at the cerulean sky and wondering if the Heavens could ever grant you mercy in the name of love. “Eventually, I will be wedded off to somewhere far. The thought makes my heart ache in agony.”

Your voice breaks and you plead with him. “Painter, would it be so shameful for me to ask you for a single kiss?”

“Of course not, your highness.” He caresses your face and you melt within the touch. Your eyes shut and he leans in closer. “It is my duty to fulfill your wishes.”

The kiss is the gentlest of touches, lips pressed upon lips, a bittersweet taste that cannot be savoured, a salty hint caused by your teardrop, the deepest of yearnings and aches for more.

Why must fate be so cruel?

It is of the midnight hour when the maid comes barging into your room unwarranted without even a single knock. It startles you to the point where you spring up from your silk bed sheets, gasping and ready to reprimand her but the maid’s wheezes and the distant shouting stops you from doing so.

You climb out of your bed, taking a robe and covering up your sleeping attire. “What is the matter with you? Speak!”

“R-rebels have stormed the castle,” she weeps, grabbing onto your arm and falling to the ground, kneeling on the floor, crying and sobbing with all her might.

The shock is delayed. “Pardon?!”

The young girl shakes her head, trying to regain composure amidst the mournful grieving. “T-they have captured your m-mother a-and your father has been executed.” You stagger backwards, and she crawls to you, gripping the hem of your dress. “Run, princess.”

She screams- “Run before they catch you!”

There’s not a single thing in your hands but your life as you flee the castle walls. The rebels are shouting together, holding torches and capturing any royal member as they scour each room and rip apart all the walls. The knights have fallen, advisors and servants alike being severed of their heads. Blood pours down the courtyard and a couple of paces away from the forest, a misstep causes you to collide against the cobblestone, a cry befalling of your mouth, skin scraped and blood trickling from the wounds.

A tall shadow looms over you. You lift your chin. The man wears no smile. His gaze is cold.

You smile, sighing of relief and thankful that the painter is here with you. Perhaps, you can flee together and finally live the life that you’ve always wanted. Except, he does not lift out his hand to pick you off your feet, he bends his knees, squatting down and quirking his head as he stares at you.

“H-hoseok, what is going on?” You begin to waver from the sharp intensity of his eyes. Any trace of warmth has disappeared, and he seems more amused that you have fallen than worried. “P-Please tell me. I’m s-so scared.”

Tears seep down your cheeks like raindrops. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying.

Hoseok smirks. The corner of his lip tugs in a menacing way and his fingers reach out to hold your chin. He leans in, placing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, and then he parts, admiring the confused expression marring your visage. “Oh princess, you are too innocent for your own good.”

Your voice does not come out strong but weak. “E-explain yourself.”

“All of this couldn’t have succeeded without your efforts.” He gestures behind him to the castle, your precious home, that was now being set on fire. Screams of the maids and dukes ricochets to your ears, and he doesn’t allow you to cover them up or cower away.

Hoseok forces you to watch the scorching flames.

“Not only did you advocate me to the king and allowed me into the castle but you fell in love with me as well and offered yourself fully. Such a foolish yet endearing character.” He shoves you away and stands, dusting his hands off and watching you pathetically cry.

“And you were right. Your father would’ve been so shameful to have a daughter like you who helped overthrow the kingdom. Too bad he’s already dead.”

You can’t wrap your mind around it. All of this is too absurd. Surely, it must be a dream. Hoseok would never treat you this way. He would never betray your trust. You love him.

“W-what?”

“Do you still not understand?” He looks over to the symbol sewn on his clothing, the green mark of the rebels. Your stomach turns and vomit threatens to crawl up your throat. You claw at your skin, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

“Y-you...you liar.” You spit at him, each heavy syllable oozing of venom. “You wretched bastard.”

Hoseok tips his head back and chuckles. “There is no use in sprouting such vulgarities, Y/N. A revolutionary is needed for the people. They are suffering in ways you will never know. Your ignorance is too great. Life isn’t generous outside of your castle of silks.”

The betrayal is too much for your heart to bear.

No amount of rage or sadness, fury or anguish could display the turmoil sewn into your soul, the heartbreak that shatters inside your chest. Jung Hoseok hovers above your small frame. He stares down at you. “But because you demonstrated such benevolence to me and made my job so simple, I will give you ten seconds. Run or the rebels will slaughter you without mercy.”

Your fragile body hauls itself upwards and despite the screams of your bones, the faintness in your head that swirls the world around, you falter down the hill, racing into the forest. You abandon your people, your family and home, the love that you held onto. You will never forget.

And you will never forgive.

Jung Hoseok laughs and gazes at your form. It reminds him of a little sheep running away from a pack of wolves. He muses that it was truly a shame; a shame that you weren’t part of the rebels and merely destined to be star-crossed lovers with him.

For the rest of your life, you live in the dirty alleyways as a peasant, scraping after other’s leftovers, bugs crawling in your hair and biting your skin, teeth rotting and clothes tattered up. You sob until you can no longer afford to expel water from your body and the short days of your life consists of recalling your warm family and the beautiful life you once had.

When you die, the last thing you think about is Jung Hoseok and your undying wrath.

[17th Century]

“Where is my notebook?”

You’re scouring in the tiny room, searching among the stacks of parchment, quills and bottles of blackened ink, tugging up your wrinkled olive dress. You pull up the smooth narrow sleeves, wincing at the troublesome lace cuffs and you tug on the strings of the small bodice for more breathing space. As you scour your belongings, the bun that was tied to the back of your head begins to loosen and clusters of curls framing your face tickles your nose. The sweat at your forehead slicks down your face and your appearance becomes disheveled in your franticness.

“My notebook….notebook.” You gasp underneath your breath, standing straight again. “Was it stolen?!”

There’s a knock and a short laugh. “Did you lose something again?”

A man in a white linen shirt, dark trousers and a navy coat stands at the doorway, hands held behind his back as he watches you fumble about. “Yes, it’s going to be the end of me, Hoseok, if I can’t find it.”

“Well, lucky for you-” He takes a few steps forward and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both arms and presenting it out in front of you. Another gasp spills from your lips and your eyes widen from the familiar leather bound notebook. “-I found it.”

You grasp at the pages, taking it into your hands and feeling the wrinkled pages full of scribbles and doodles made in ink. You choke out the words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you.”

“Thank you. I-I thought it was lost forever.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but you smother him in a tight embrace. Hoseok wheezes, making coughing sounds from the pressure of your arms, and he even mutters your name after a minute but you don’t let go of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.” He gently moves your arms from his back. “But you should let go of me.”

If someone were to see, surely rumours would spread like wildfire. Folks in the village were already whispering of how he came and went inside your abode for hours on end and until the sun went down; a gesture such as an embrace would certainly be scandalous and soil your name.

You comply, loosening your grip, and he slides away from you with a rather striking smile. “You ought to be more organized, Y/N. At this rate, you’d lose your head and I’d have to go looking for it.”

A grin sneaks up your mouth. “That’s why I have you.”

The man exhales, continuing on the other subject as you move away. “I hope you do not mind but on my way here, I’ve read the latest entries.”

“And?” You settle yourself down in the wooden chair facing the windows, preparing a new bottle of ink to begin the next story. “What did you think?”

“As usual, there was nothing amiss, quite good actually. Just, your spelling was horrible, Y/N.”

“I know I’m rubbish at spelling.” You mutter underneath your breath, preoccupied with scribbling something down. After a moment, you sheepishly smile at him. “But that’s why I’m paying you to be my editor. If I were good at it, I wouldn’t need you.”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous.” He jests in a playful tone, “you will always need me. What would you do if I was not around to remind you to eat once in a while and bathe? You'd be sitting in your own filth and rotting away in this home.”

The two of you laugh together, admitting that he is not at all false.

You were withdrawn, living on the secluded outskirts of the town. Not many folks desired to be acquainted with you since men frequently belittled your skills and women would rather discuss child rearing and gossip about the marriages taking place. You preferred to write and most considered that a bore and not an occupation at all. You like to beg to differ but that didn't mean you were free from loneliness.

It was Hoseok that provided companionship, filling in the positions of what friends would. With his presence by your side, you no longer cared about the rude folks who would mutter behind your back. He is the reason you keep striving forward.

“Speaking of which, I haven't seen you in a week’s time. What have you been working on as of late?”

“It's a new story and a strange one but I cannot find it in me to shake it off.” Your eyes are blazing like sunlight. He considers the passion ignited within you is a very peculiar yet attractive trait of yours. “It's something I call ‘soulmates’.”

His brows furrow. “What is that?”

“It’s a kindred spirit in which upon meeting, there is a spark of..uh...lighting.” Your hands whip in grand gestures and you pace around the room in equal strides. “The primary character just knows that they will end up with that person and together, they will lead their lives until the next and next one. A person can have one soulmate or several, each a part of themselves that makes them whole. It is a kind of true love, an authentic companionship, a mate that matches your soul if you will.”

“Perhaps I shall call the story ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” You whirl back around to face your editor. “What do you think?”

The man hums. “I think you don’t have enough sleep and your head is up in the clouds again.”

You sigh, stomping your foot once. “Must you kid around? I am sincerely ecstatic about the idea.”

“I am only teasing you.” He smiles in a soft manner. “I think the idea is brilliant. If it is you who comes up with it, it always is.”

“I know.” Your cheeks heat from his compliments and you inhale a lungful. “It’s a shame that not many people will hear about it. What did they say at the printing press?”

Hoseok grimaces, hesitating on the subject and hoping that you wouldn’t have asked. But you urge him to go on and tell him that your feelings will be spared.

“Seokjin won’t allow you. He doesn’t believe a woman has anything worthy to say.”

“Of course. It’s always the same issue.” You’re defeated and at a loss of what to utter. “I know my writing isn’t horrible, especially with your help, dare I say it’s quite good. But in the world we live in, no one wants to hear what a woman would say, much less what a woman would write.”

Hoseok gazes upon the profile of your visage. The efforts of your labour are evident in the way darkened circles mark the underside of your eye, the natural flush that kisses upon your nose. You are tired and it hurts him to see you this way. “Do you want people to read your work?”

“Yes, more than anything.” You look outside the window, lost in a trance of a land that would offer a lady like you more opportunities. It’s a silly thought but a prevalent one. “I never cared for recognition or fame. I just want my work to be out there in the world.”

There is a silence that hangs heavily in the air.

“Y/N.”

“Don’t feel the need to comfort me. I am aware that there is no use in contemplating such ridiculousness. My time is better spent putting my active imagination to better use.” You meekly smile, grabbing a new sheet of parchment. A thought brushes across your mind that perhaps if you wedded to someone of importance, your tales can be spread into different civilizations.

But you have no interest in letting someone take your hand in marriage. Most men would rather you bear children for them than write all day in a room. You’d be better off remaining on your lonesome. But perhaps Hoseok would want to...no...such a foolish thought.

You have an inkling that you will remain unmarried for the rest of your days.

The end of your quill is dipped in black ink, preparing to begin another story and you scowl at Hoseok who remains impassive, staring at you at such an intense fixation. “Get back to work before I shake my spear through you!”

He jumps like his trousers are on fire. “Yes, madam.”

And the man laughs at your glare.

A few weeks have passed since Hoseok has bid you farewell, being excused from his duties to travel to his ill mother in another village. You were awaiting for his return but you’re finally drawn out of your home by the excessive noise at the town square.

“What is going on?”

A chubby lady with a rounded womb, ready to burst with a new child, chuckles happily and takes your hand. “Your editor, Y/N. Who knew he would be such a literary scholar?”

“P-pardon me?”

A new declaration is posted on the wooden board and everyone swarms, despite most being illiterate. The lady who caught wind of news repeats it to you. “Jung Hoseok has been commissioned by the state as the official writer. His play titled as ‘A Midsummer Night's’ Dream caught the eye of the Minister and now he’s published his work under the name of Shakespeare.”

“E-....excuse me?!”

You feel faint.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful, Y/N.” The woman is ignorant to your bubbling wrath. “You should really give his work a try!”

“That...bastard!” A handful of village folk turn around in shock at your curse and even the lady is taken back, letting go of you and gasping at your barbaric demeanor. But you pay no mind.

You are too enraged of the lies, the deception, the deceit. Upon racing back home, you discover copies of your work all stolen, ripped away from your hands and name, forged and ransacked.

And cursing out his name, damning him to the deepest parts of hell, does nothing to sedate the madness of resentments. You will loathe the name of Jung Hoseok until the day you die.

Years later, when Hoseok returns, he receives news from the villagers. Not long after he had left, you suffered under a violent illness and died. He weeps alone as he reads your last written work, ink bled on old pages, a story of enemies and vengeance.

[18th Century]

The hot sun beams down and sweat slicks down your forehead, coating your skin in a sticky sheen and mixing with the grime on your cheek, the dust clinging to your hair. You are weak from hunger but it’s a familiar feeling that strangely reminds you that you are alive.

After working since dawn, you take a moment’s rest, blunt sickle in your hand, eyes bleary from the continuous labour. But what catches your sight is the lady of the house walking on the stone path, viewing all the workers and peasants wading through the endless fields.

“She’s so beautiful.” You sigh in a dreamy manner, following her graceful figure glide by, her cream coloured silk hat matching with the gorgeous gown. Lady Jungha has always been a beauty since birth, powdered skin and rosy cheeks. She is an exquisite phantom, a fictitious being that’s pulled out straight from books. “If only I could look like her.”

“Why are you so concerned with nonsense beauty?” Your friend stands straight, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Hurry up and focus plowing the wheat fields or else we’ll have nothing to eat!”

You downcast your head, griping a few words before exhaustion envelops your frame and you keep quiet, concentrating on your duties of a farmer.

It’s only until the sun is beginning to dip across the horizon that you’re free from the grueling labour. Every part of your body aches as the day before and you only get a single loaf of bread to chew on, cowering beside your friend with a tiny fire that provides warmth inside the brick shack.

“Y/N, could you fetch a pail of water?” Your friend rinses her face, shuddering from the coldness of the liquid. “We’re all out.”

“Must it be me?” You sit up from your straw mat, peeking out the window and watching how the sun has fully disappeared. There is no doubt that in ten minutes time, the sky will be black and the moon will rise.

“I beg of you.” She falls to the ground, suffering from a fever that’s been persisting for the past days. When you pleaded to the lord of the house to let her rest, he didn’t allow such a thing. Your heart only cries when you watch her in this much agony. “I’m not feeling well.”

“If you must.” You nod, tucking a tattered blanket over her body. “I’ll be back soon.”

The metal pail clanks as you rush down the dirt path to the well. You try to make it as fast as you can before it becomes completely dark and the nipping chills might lead you to sickness as well.

But on your way there, with your head facing the dirt, on pure coincidence and on accident, you bump into the body of another person. “I’m so sorry-”

“Um, pardon me.” He speaks in a sweet voice and you’re drawn upwards, looking the man in his eyes. His natural dark hair is parted to the side with a dab of hair wax, wearing a moss coloured suit; a silk cravat, coat and waistcoat to match. His breech, stockings and shoes are dignified, crisp clothes that show his wealth. “I apologize to interrupt you on your way but may I ask what household is this?”

You glance over to the grand home towering high in the sky. “Why, this is the Jeon Household. Jeon Jungkook is the lord of the manor and of the land. Who may you be?”

The man grins. “My name is Jung Hoseok, a traveller scholar.”

“A scholar?” You smile, easing into the discourse. “That is rather impressive.”

“Yes, well, I’ve retired to become a tutor and I’ve just arrived in this part of the country yesterday.” Hoseok takes a moment to admire the endless fields of the countryside and the peacefulness that lasts for acres upon acres. “I am afraid I lost my way.”

You lift one hand to gesture to the path. “The road to the small village is this way and when you arrive at the riverside, leave to the right. There should be an inn there where you can stay at.”

“Thank you.” He dips his head and before you can bid farewell, he steps forward. “Would it be unmannerly for me to ask you of your name?”

There’s a second of hesitation, one where you lower yourself, facing the ground. It is shameful for someone like you to be speaking to someone like him, dashing looks and of higher status. You wish it were different but by your battered attire, you cannot lie. “I am L/N Y/N, a lowly servant and farmer to the Jeon Household.”

However, the man is undeterred by your status and your soft whispers.

“You are quite the beauty, Lady Y/N, if you do allow me to say. And...a bit familiar.” He gazes at you with a slight frown and finally rips away his eyes once you’ve blushed. Hoseok clears his throat in several harsh coughs. “Thank you for helping me this fine evening.”

That night, you are unable to catch a single wink of sleep. Your mind is consumed by one single man.

The sun is falling once more. The wheat fields are tangling with each other, dancing to the warm breeze of the evening, birds chirping their songs before sundown. The fresh scent of the ground follows with the dirtied clothing on your body and you tear off your apron, neckerchief and white linen cap.

“Where are you going?” Your friend watches you, chewing on her stale bread and bemused by your franticness. “Are you not going to eat?”

“I will be back soon enough.” You re-lace your stays to hug your frame tighter, dusting off the deep emerald fabric of your petticoat. It’s a shame that you cannot afford a powdered wig or powder for your skin but you make do with what you have, pinching your cheeks for a rosy complexion, brushing your hair to the back of your head and decorating it with a few flowers you had pulled from the side of the path.

“Why are you trying so hard to look beautiful? You are aware that no one pays no mind, especially to us peasants? They’re all too concerned about themselves to look at us.”

You know that your friend does not lie.

No matter what you do, the reflection in the mirror mocks your efforts. Your skin is itchy and of a sickly colour, burnt from being in the sun, the foul stench of labouring in the fields all day follows even after bathing, fingernails blackened from the dirt, the lack of food make your cheeks hollow and bones frail. A pitying gaze from your friend causes you to look away.

There’s nothing you can do, no amount of colour, pinching or flowers could make you look anything more than ugly. You can either look like the peasant girl that you were born to be or a pathetic court jester - you’re not sure which is worse.

Yet, you hold your head up high.

“You don’t understand. I-I’ve met someone.”

Your friend lowers her bread and stares. “You met someone?”

“Last night and I can’t help but feel like,” a hopeless sigh spills from your lips, “like he may be my soulmate.”

Such a concept as soulmates is something that came from a famous book that you heard about once. The writer was a marvelous one, plays and street performances coming from the story and even to this day, countless philosophers are debating the idea that each person may belong to another or select few, created by the so-called ‘fate’.

“Oh, Y/N. You are too naive.”

You smile at her. “Believe in what I say, I have a good feeling about this man.”

Before she is able to ask more questions, you have already left. As fortune may have it, tracing the steps of yesterday, a familiar man stands near the path, admiring the beauty of the endless fields. He turns around at the sound of your huffs and smiles.

“Is this a coincidence or done on purpose?” He waits patiently for an answer and recognizing how you are flustered by the question, he grins. “I do hope it is the latter for I was also hoping to see you again.”

Your cheeks flush and a smile holds itself on your face. “Your desire is mutual.”

The dusk light fills the sky and you pace alongside him, strolling together aimlessly without a place in mind. Simply, you are enjoying his company. “Have you always worked here?”

“Yes, my parents were also servants for the Jeon Household. It was in my place to continue their duties.” You study the side of his face, chiseled jaw, sharp nose and all, before realizing the rudeness of your actions. “And you? Were you always a traveling scholar?”

“Ah no, well, I am a tutor now.” He chooses each word carefully and his utterance of the words are gentle. “I am in search of a suitable job. Do you know if there is anyone in the Jeon Household in need of a tutor?”

“Well, the lord of the house is very educated already.” You’ve always known that lord Jeon has been kind to you and your parents. There were many stories that surrounded him. “He is old and unfortunately a widow. He does have one daughter, however. The lady of the household, Jungah. She’s only nineteen years of age and very beautiful.”

“Oh.�� Hoseok stops to feel the breeze kiss upon his cheeks. It cards through his locks and you watch while in an enamoured state. “Is the lady of the household betrothed?”

“Not that I know of. Perhaps the lady will need a tutor. I-...” You lower your head, trying to remember your place in the world as a lowly servant. “I could arrange a meeting for you if you wish.”

“That would be splendid, Y/N. Thank you.” He beams like the sunshine itself and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. But upon realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s gaze was becoming too intense as well. He muses, “You really would be more suited to a bustling town.”

“A town?”

“The world has changed, Y/N!” He throws open his arms as if he welcomes the entire universe inside of them. “It’s developed. Such things as working for a lord of the land and barely having enough to eat, people are no longer living in such ways. More and more are leaving the countryside to work at these factories. You can buy food, a warm house, anything you want.”

He faces you. “It’s wonderful, really. You wouldn’t believe it. You have to see it with your own eyes, Y/N.”

You smile at his riveting energy but your expression turns to sorrow. “I can’t just leave. They own me here.”

“I can help you.” Hoseok declares to the rising moon. “I can help you get away from this farm.”

You gasp, stepping forward. “R-really?”

“Yes, I have a friend who sells cattle. All you must do is lay on the barrow and let yourself be taken to the border. It’s never been more possible.” His eyes twinkle, brighter than the stars setting above your heads. “All my friend needs in order to agree is ten golden coins.”

“T-ten?” You reach for your pocket that is weightless. They don’t give you earnings for your work - the food is already the pay. “All I have is four.”

The man hums in contemplation. “Well, you can give me the four now and when you come up with the other six, I’ll let him know.” You scour your dress to reach inside the pocket, collecting your entire wealth into your hands. “It’s for a better life, Y/N. I want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers brush against the skin of his palm, letting the golden coins drop into his hand and a strange emotion tugs inside your chest.

After bidding farewell with the tutor, you watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the man takes that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

Eventually, in three days time, you catch the gracious lady on her morning walk, and she finds interest in the man you describe. Hoseok expresses his gratitude as another meeting is arranged for him to address the lord of the house and it doesn't take long for him to be hired as the official tutor for Lady Jungha.

You find that the pair of them, Hoseok and Lady Jungha, have taken a liking to each other, often smiling and glancing while strolling at dawn. But your friend insists that your mind is merely running wild again and such a relationship would be scandalous to the Jeon name. For reasons you are too shy to admit, you hope it is true.

Each evening, you stroll together with Hoseok, mindlessly speaking and letting time trickle away without a notice. You see him frequently, especially since he now lives on the land as well. And the feelings within your being are only festering day by day.

Except, one night, you cannot sleep well.

“Where are you going?”

Your friend lifts her head as you shuffle on outwear, brushing back your hair and leaving it unkempt. “I’ll be back soon. I need to make sure of something.”

Today, as you waited on the same path, Hoseok never showed up.

As improper and rude as it may be, you sneak into the manor like a shadow, slipping through the familiar corridors and hallways, past empty rooms and studies. Surely, if you were to be caught, you would be punished; perhaps days of food taken away from you or you would be forced to work the entire field during the night. But you cannot shake off the worry that plagues your mind.

It’s not like Jung Hoseok breaks his word. He is a man of dignity and respect-

“Hhmpph...mmp-h…” A muffled whine causes you to halt and you turn to the lady’s room, the door slightly parted and enough for you to peek inside. “Wait...w-wait.”

There are two shadows on the bed and you narrow your eyes, barely able to see with the moonlight coming through the glass windows. But you recognize the voice immediately. “What’s the matter?”

“M-my father,” Lady Jungha pants a breath, laid down beneath the man, “if he finds out about us, I’m scared of what he would do to you.”

“My lady, are you not aware I would readily endanger my own well-being for you?” He places a kiss on her lips, the sound of smacking skin echoing in the quiet room. Your heart drops. “Your beauty is unadulterated, the most magnificent in the land. You are but a fragile flower and your mind of absolute brilliance. Never have I had such a student. No one compares to you.”

He strips of his shirt, allowing the fabric to flutter to the ground. His large, coarse hands slink up the lady’s legs, pushing up her silk nightgown until it pools high above her chest. He removes her undergarments and you spin around, back hitting against the wall, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and breaking the skin.

“Let me reward you. Let me take care of you.” His voice is soft and sweet, dripping of luscious honey and you fear that you will spew the little contents in your stomach out. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

There are more groans and whines, kisses pressed and skin slapping on skin. The vulgarities and lewd sounds sends a warm wash over your body and you swallow hard, finding it difficult to walk away. “Okay, take me, Hoseok.” The young lady giggles quietly. “I allow you to defile my innocence.”

Your hand covers your mouth to hide the breaking sob and you run as saltwater clouds the surroundings.

“Is there something the matter?” Your friend shifts over the straw mat, shaken from her slumber and your sudden appearance.

“I’m well. Thank you.” You face the dirtied wall, holding your palm to your lips, weeping into your hands until the exhaustion of your labour from the day has taken hold of your mind.

The sunlight does not seem bright anymore.

The hard work and plowing of the fields offers a sense of odd fulfillment. The repetitive motions and slick sweat sticking to your face brings you down from the clouds to the ground. You remember who you are: a lowly servant who will never be anything more.

“I believe I will take the hand of Lady Jungha in the days to come.” Hoseok tells you one evening as you both have stopped to stare out at the endless countryside. You’ve learnt to find sorrow within these walks now.

“Is that so?” You offer a kind smile, sincerely ecstatic for the man. Despite his mere status, he is a good match for the lady of the house. They are both of beauty and dashing looks.

“If it were not for you and your efforts, I would not be standing here today.” Hoseok grins, hands behind his back and spine tall. “One day, when I become the lord of the land, I will set you free.”

You bow your head. “Then it would be my absolute honour, Lord Hoseok.”

The man grins at the new title and your heart aches as you watch him stride away, increasing the distance and disappearing away from you.

True to his word, in a month, he has taken Lady Jungha’s hand. It happens too quickly for you to fully understand, the wedding coming and going within a blink, and you simply focus on working the fields, having enough to eat after each day, working hard to obtain six more coins.

In due time, the strolls with the man diminish until there is nothing left. Yet, what surprises you is the sudden illness of Lord Jungkook and his succumb to the mysterious disease. It is overnight that Jung Hoseok becomes the main land owner and master of the household.

“Wake up! Wake up, peasants!” Horrific metal is rattled on metal, shocking you out of slumber and you awake, rubbing at bleary eyes. Your friend is in a similar state of confusion, exchanging a glance at you before she gets up, grabbing a cloak to cover her nightgown.

“How dare you intrude into a lady’s quarters?” You gasp at the men who barge and kick down all the doors of the little huts. The stranger simply laughs at your scoldings and roughly grabs your arm, hauling you outside against your will and throwing you to the dirt. You yelp and your friend comes rushing to your aid, covering you with your own cloak.

“Take all their belongings!” The men shout and the other servants are torn away from each other, children, women and men alike. “Rip down everything!”

You watch as they scour your tiny room for the little things that you have, a pot of water and straw mat, perhaps a stack of wheat in the corner. You stagger to your feet and a familiar figure stands by the side of the road, gazing out at the wide countryside.

“Lord Hoseok, I plead with you to tell me what is happening.” Behind him, your friends and their families are screaming, homes torn apart and fires flickering your shadows on the ground. “Why are you treating these poor servants this way?”

“Oh, Y/N.” There is something strange about the man. His kindness and benevolence has long left his soul and his smile frightens you. “I am selling the land.”

“Selling the land?! What-?” You are befuddled and baffled. “Does Lady Jungha know about this?!”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and he locks his eyes with yours. “The lady is bedridden in grief from her father’s death. She cannot sleep or eat and is no longer a wife to me. I have plans to send her to an asylum to get better.”

“P-pardon me? T-that cannot be true!” You shake your head until it rattles and you can’t see straight. “That must be false! I have to see her for myself-”

Hoseok clutches your wrist in his hand. “You will do no such thing.”

A sick, twisted part of him was once curious to see how foolish and easily persuaded you are. He isn’t disappointed. You believe him so easily that he does not need to put forth effort. It nearly spoils the fun and amusement for him to trick you. You almost awaken a sense of guilt within him. Almost.

It strikes you like a slap and your eyes widen. “You are not a scholar nor a tutor are you?”

“And you realize so too late.” He lets go, applauding for the little wit you have left. “I lied.”

Your stomach churns. You feel sick. “Who are you?”

“A swindler who was once a peasant like you.” His gaze softens a mere tad. “I never once harboured feelings for the lady of the house, I was only trying to gain wealth. You can hate me if you want to, that does not matter.”

“You are the truest demon that I have met,” you spit out in rage, “and hell has opened its doors for you.”

He leans his head to one side, chuckling and laughing at the sudden insults. “Are you really so naive, Y/N? Are you not tired of licking the shoes of people who are of higher status? But I must say, if it were not for you, my scheme would have never succeeded. And for that, I thank you.”

Hoseok reaches into his pocket, taking a single coin, one that you had given him, and he slaps it back into your hands, closing your palm so you can keep it safe.

You shake with wrath, your entire frame rattling and knees threatening to buckle to the dirt. With the little strength you have left, you throw the coin as far as you can into the fields. Hoseok chuckles again and you prepare to launch over, maul his face with your dirtied fingernails. But his men grab your arms too soon, restraining your limbs and forcing you to kneel.

“I-I hate you! I spite you! Damn you, Jung Hoseok! Damn you!”

“What do you want me to do with this girl?”

“Take her and sell her for the best price.” Hoseok waves his hand, dismissing his men and bidding you a final farewell. “She is rather valuable.”

You’re thrown into a wooden cage, trapped and hanging onto the bars as the horse drags you elsewhere. You scream and shout but the man does not spare a single glance. You watch his backside disappear slowly, cursing each stride he takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him.

[19th Century]

“Are you looking for something?” A rounded woman emerges from the back of her market stand, sweeping your frame up and down to guess the wealth you have.

You’re in a fitted linen shirt and dark green woolen skirt, belt wrapped around the natural waist of the simple ensemble and bonnet decorating your pinned up chignon hair. You look like a well-off peasant, not a customer who could pay for much, but it is a fairly good front since you’re actually penniless.

“No, I’m just looking for now.” You smile softly and the woman huffs out in annoyance, spinning around to address some other folks who have gathered on the other side. As her back is turned, your fingertips run against the selection of green flower brooches, the gems sparkling in the sunlight.

You slip one into your sleeve and walk away.

The women wandering about the market are adorning full, bell-shaped skirt dresses, petticoats with frilled hems, hair in tight curls framing their face and maybe a long time ago, you would be envious of such beautiful clothing but it does not concern you anymore. There’s much more important business to attend to.

The bustle of the crowded streets and children running at your feet is suffocating and you make a left at the alleyway, sliding the brooch from out your pocket and attaching it on the woolen shawl draped on your shoulders. It looks much better this way. You’re ready.

Another left, another right, going deeper and deeper into the dirty alleyways that run with rats and of the poor pleading for money - eventually, you make it to the pine painted door, a dingy and discreet place in the corner that already smells of tobacco from the outside.

You kick down the door. The chaos inside stops.

“Men!” You smirk at their confused expressions. “Your real competition is here.”

As a woman, it may be ungenteel to hike up your dress, put your boot on the table and shoot dice while hollering and screaming with the opposite sex but why should you feel ashamed when you are dominating and winning all bets?

“I’ll bet one more time.” Your opponent, Min Yoongi, slaps down a hefty sack of golden coins. The others cheer, the entire room having all gathered around your table and watching the dark horse snaring victory after victory. “If the dice makes it even, I get my earnings back but if it makes it odd, I will give you the rest of this.”

You contemplate the choice, weighing the reward and consequences. It sounds appealing, especially when everyone is howling for you to take the deal. In the end, you smirk at the newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

The dice is thrown. Each person holds their breath.

In the next twelve minutes, you’ve completely ransacked the place dry of their money. And you laugh your head off, clutching onto your stomach and cackling while the others can only sigh at their humiliating, multiple defeats.

“Where did a woman like you learn how to gamble?” Yoongi sips from his glass of rum, eyes studying you carefully.

“Ah.” You smile at him. “But there is your mistake. Woman or man, ‘tis true they are different but not so much. You would be a fool not to look at me as your equal opponent.”

You’ve seen things that others would faint at; held a gun within your hands, fired shots into the sky, sailed seas with pirates until you found a home here. Yoongi grins. “A fool I am indeed.”

“Hey!” A piercing interruption at the back causes all heads to turn. The bulky man watching from earlier is holding the dice within his hands, frown decorating his ugly face and rotting teeth. “This dice is fake! It’s not ours!”

At once, all necks crane towards you.

They stare. The large men, brawny arms and thighs, bruises lining their skin, red fists and faces becoming scarlet begin to take slow steps forward. Yoongi has his eyes widened, mouth drawing open. You sheepishly smile. And…

You make a run for it.

“Get back here!” They dive over wooden tables and stools, tripping and falling, glasses of rum and cigars abandoned, thrown onto the ground. By then, you’ve already yanked open the door, being chased down the alleyway. “She’s a swindler!”

“A cheat!”

The horde of men races after you but are no match for your agile legs and speed. You even laugh to further mock them, dashing through the dark alleyways, past the poor and rats, clutters of rubbish and dirtied children. It’s like a peasant parade, a grand crowd following after in shouts and screams and you are their gracious leader.

“I prefer con artist!”

You make it to the main street again, knocking over stands and throwing over tables to slow down the angry men. Women scream, men exhale in surprise, children darting away from your form. They trip and stumble, pushing their way through the mass of people. “Give back our money!”

“Sorry but no thanks!” You hold up a heavy sack of coins above your head with a tinkling laugh, shaking the coins inside to further taunt them. “I need this more than you!”

The police squadron has noticed the ruckus in the area and has begun running after the ruffians, blowing their whistles and commanding them to stop. You hope they catch the criminals so that you may be spared but if they’re caught, you would be too. People like you are never caught.

The whistles are blown. “In the name of the royal family, halt immediately criminals!”

The men continue to run after you. “Kill her!”

“That’s a bit severe, is it not?!” You’re out of breath, painting and heaving for air.

You know you won’t last long now. Hence, there’s no other choice but to turn the corner into another street and immediately, in the empty area, you place yourself into another narrow alleyway. “Where did that whore go?!”

You gasp in offense, muttering quietly, “I am not a whore.”

The incoherent grumblings quickly turns into a scream when someone suddenly seizes you, their hand yanking your arm but the sound is muffled as a palm is clasped over your mouth and you’re pressed against someone’s firm chest. You pull away from the stranger.

He smirks. “Caught you.”

You shove his fingers off of your body, snatching the collar of his fine coat and hauling the man deeper into the shadowed depths of the alleyway. “Jung Hoseok-” You push him to the wall. “-What are you doing here?! How?!”

The man looks off to the other end that is lit by the sunlight, the unsuspecting thugs rushing past and officers following their tails. “I see you haven’t shaken off your gambling habits.” The son of the loan shark corners you with his larger body. “You still owe my family many loans.”

“Damn you.” Your teeth grit. “Fine, be as it may, take me to your debtors’ prison.”

“Good. It would be best if you follow me-”

In an instant, your shoes have twisted upon the gravel and your heel meets the dirt as you lob your body to the left, ready to take down the alley for yet another chase. But you fail to consider Jung Hoseok’s own agile skills, and he grabs your waist before you’re able to dash.

“Must you always run?”

The hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear and you scowl, curses to be spewed on your tongue, but he spins you around and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You scream. “Put me down, bastard! I am a lady!”

“You aren’t.” He rudely smacks your ass, sending a jolt up your spine and you’re silenced in bafflement. The man makes his way on the opposite road of the chaos, into a quieter place with fewer folks wandering about. “And if you do not follow me, I will throw you to those rancid men. Would you like that better?”

“I despise you.”

Hoseok smiles, satisfied to see your more compliant behaviour. You decide that you’ll allow him to continue carrying you this way. You’re tired anyhow, legs sore from the race and at the end of the day, he is wasting away his own energy by hauling you there.

“You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you choose to con them. One day, you’ll be beaten to death.”

You scoff loudly. “I am going to win in order to pay all my debts back, foolish man.”

“Gambling never works, haven’t you learnt? You’d end up wasting your entire life savings away and living by the city’s sewers.”

“Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?” You rest your hand on your cheek, propping your elbow on his broad backside. There are people staring at you, couples cowering away in disdain. You wonder if they’re soulmates.

Soulmates - the idea that a kindred soul has been fixed for each individual are not only in stories anymore but in real lives. Folks have supposedly begin recognizing an odd burst when they meet their other half. It’s a ridiculous phenomenon. You couldn’t care less about soulmates. What matters is wealth.

Wealth would help you, free you, give you a better tomorrow. You’ve lived this entire life alone and it is no doubt that for the rest of it, you will continue to be by yourself. There is no one trustworthy - it took you too long of a time to learn that.

“I’m not naive anymore.”

“Good.” He laughs, finally setting you down on the property, swinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as he guides you inside the building, down the familiar halls. You shove his limb off with an ugly scowl, and he smiles. You accompany each other in synchronized steps, the surroundings too familiar for your liking.

Jung Hoseok is a man with short, black, tousled hair. He wears a double-breasted frock coat and long trousers, a luxurious attire considering the family he comes from. You hate it even more that he is a rather dapper young fellow.

“This is for your own benefit, Y/N. You don’t even have any money for food. At least if you stay at this place, I can bring you some bread to eat and you have warm shelter.”

You step inside the cell, and he locks the door with a brass key.

“This place is cold and horrid,” you cry out. “There are rats and fleas everywhere! You think I could stay here?! You’d be leaving me to die!”

He smiles at you through the gaps of the metal bars. The stone floorings and walls barricade you in. “I will bring you a blanket and you can make do.”

You spit with all the fury and rage festered in your soul, “Do not act like you care for me!”

“Don’t mistake my pity for generosity then.”

“Damn you, Jung Hoseok.” You grip the cold bars that trap you, screaming after his retreating form. “I loathe you with every last breath in my body!”

He turns from a little way, figure engulfed in the darkness of the hall. “If it helps, I share my own hatred for you. You make my job a lot harder than need be.” A small smile holds on his face and you see it all too well. “Just sit down and begin separating the strands of rope in the basket. Enough of it and in a few years, you might be released.”

You curse him to hell and back.

The sunlight coming from the barred window is always hot in the hour of twelve. You’ve noticed this before a ways back but thought nothing much of it. Today, it makes all the difference.

You’ve collected the leaves and grass from the corners of the cell, cringing and sobbing out when you accidentally brushed your hand in rat feces, a dead rat and maggots eating at the decaying flesh. But alas, after wiping your fingers on your tattered clothing, you continued on your quest.

It took a while to break the wooden basket and carve out something decent but you managed with the little fork Hoseok gave you to eat. It’s all thanks to him that you can do this.

“Come on now.” You murmur, rubbing the two wooden sticks against each other on top of the pile of grass, leaves and rope. There’s a puff of smoke and sweat builds at your forehead as you work your arms back and forth. “I beg of you…”

The sunlight helps to ignite the tiny flame and a smirk spreads into your cheeks.

You nurse the fire as quietly and quickly as you can, throwing the bundles and bundles of rope that was prepared for you to separate into the light. As the fire crackles, meeting the height of your waist, you take the stool, standing on top of it and you throw yourself over the tiny ledge.

Using the motion, you kick the bars of the window loose and you throw your legs out. The height of the drop is survivable. But before you can make your escape, pattering footsteps echo through the hall. “Y/N?!”

Hoseok stands back from your cell in dreaded horror. “Bloody hell, you started a fire?!”

“A good distraction, eh?” You smirk at his glare. It was always within the con rule book to create distractions and delay the enemy. “I suppose this would be a good time to bid you adieu.”

He calls your name over and over again, gripping the iron bars that separate the two of you.

“You know no matter where you go, I will find you?!”

“Aww, if you were not an enemy, that would almost sound romantic.” You give him a flying kiss, lips smacking against your palm and gestured out to him. He frowns and you give a wink, a cheerful giggle as well. “Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

“Y/N!”

And you slip out the window, right out of his grasps, running as fast as you can.

[20th Century]

Even as the threat of war breathes down your neck, threatening to grab hold of your lungs and smother you in all its horror, soulmates still run rampant through the streets, slaughtering each sliver of hope you have left, strangling the happy life that you want so desperately.

“You haven't found…” Your friend leans close as if sharing a secret. “...‘the one’?”

The world revolved around the idea of soulmates. It hit civilization like a ship’s cannon, sudden and full of impact. Now, it was all girls could giggle about and boys could fantasize. Folks would be absolutely consumed with it, parents pairing their children and friends’ together and hoping for that burst of electricity that could only be shared between kindred souls.

One of the questions you were asked insistently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’. Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told you their own story. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you. That’s how the scientists and teachers, old philosophers and stories, the newspapers said it.

That’s how fate is.

“What if I just don’t have a soulmate?”

You exhale a breath towards the sky and your friend looks at you in astonishment. “Who told you that? Plus, no scientist has said such thing yet. Everyone has a soulmate! Some people just take a bit of time, Y/N. You’ll find someone soon, I just know it.”

She says it with such certainty, as if declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

You’ve heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Yet, your own faith and hope are dwindled.

“Isn’t there more to life than finding your soulmate, getting married and having children?”

You’re not sure where this is all coming from but perhaps it is the resentments of your universe, how your parents have constantly shoved the ideas of romance and matrimony down your throat since you were a child. When you look around, women are glowing from pregnancies or branded with a ring on their finger.

“What if I want to go to university instead?”

“Are you ill?” She nibbles on her bread. “Why are you speaking such nonsense? Y/N, this is the Great Depression and I know your own family is well off but people don’t even have enough to eat.” Your friend shakes her head, scoffing at the ridiculousness of your words. “School...and for women? What kind of place would ever accept that?”

You don’t respond. She sighs.

“Y/N, don’t you want happiness and to feel loved? We don’t have many choices other than those things. So, keep your chin up and don’t give up on the idea of soulmates just yet.”

It’s a rose-coloured world. Everyone sees the universe in blazing shades, laughing and grinning even at such a poor time. They see the glass as half-full, each failure an opportunity to learn, pouring of optimism. They beam with love and happiness, holding hands and sharing kisses.

Yet, you don’t feel like you are flushing with rose. You are green. A monster of envy.

The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes. Each step you take splatters puddles onto your house dress, a kelly-coloured, floral, cotton hand-me-down from your mother.

You’re drenched from head to toe, squealing before taking shelter under a closed flower shop.

You don’t notice the person who you’re caught in the rain with, the individual that was already there and lifting their hand out to catch the droplets, staring up at the clouds and considering how much longer the storm will take. “Looks like it won’t stop anytime soon, eh?”

Your body jumps in shock but soon eases from the warm and familiar presence beside you.

“Jung H-Hoseok.” You blink at him, managing a slight smile out of politeness. “What a surprise.”

The man is a notorious playboy, someone you’ve seen sucking face in alleyways with other girls, feeling them up right in public, especially Yoonji from three houses down your parents’. Your own mother has told you to stay away from men like him. They’re nothing but trouble.

“Are you alright?” He gives a sly grin, taking a step closer to you and his body radiates the heat your own skin craves. If someone were to see now, they’d immediately become suspicious and in this small town with gossip being the main activity, your mother would know about it instantly.

Luckily, no one’s around and the streets are empty.

“I’m perfectly fine, just soaked from the rain.”

Hoseok smirks. He’s a cunning fellow, a known looker too. His white shirt is rolled to his sleeves, veins popping from his forearm and you know that any lady in this town would be swooning to be in this position but you don’t dare look at him. You focus on the street.

“It’s been awhile since we chatted, Y/N.”

“Well, I’d rather not.”

“Why?” He tips his head to the side, staring at you with the utmost concentration that you nearly begin to break a sweat.

You finally look at him, twisting on your ankle to frown. “Would Min Yoonji like it if she knew you were trying to flirt with me right now?”

“Darling, no one ever said anything about flirting.” He’s amused and that makes you angrier. “But if you want me to, then I can.”

“You. Are. Ridiculous.”

“And you are beautiful.”

“You!” Your mouth has filled with cotton, cheeks heating up by the second and it would be an understatement to say that you’re flustered. How is it that he can get under your skin so quickly and break down your barriers; you’ll never know the answer. “Ugh!”

“Have I stolen those words out of your pretty lips? Or should I kiss ‘em to make sure they’re okay?”

You scoff, crossing your arms as if it’s for extra protection. “Now I know why my mother told me to stay from the likes of you!”

“Why?” His grin spreads into his cheeks, and he leans down to meet your eyes. “Because I make you excited, because I’m dangerous, and she’d rather have you settle down with someone plain and boring like that idiot down the street, Taehyung? Kid doesn’t even know what sex is.”

You narrow your eyes, spitting out the syllables like it’s your only arsenal left against his suave attacks, “because you toy with women’s hearts and throw them after you’re done.”

“I would never throw you away.” He answers without missing a beat, leaning against the glass window and studying your frame carefully. “I’ve always liked you, you know. You’re different from the rest of ‘em.”

“H-How so?” Your interest is piqued, and he realizes it, cockily smirking yet again.

“You’re not a simple one. You’re a challenge and I like that.”

There’s a familiar feeling about the man and it puts you on edge. Though you must admit, it is exhilarating to be speaking to him and simply considering all the scandalous acts you could do together in secret. “So once I become easy, you’ll be done with me?”

“Never.” He shakes his head. “You might know me as a heartbreaker but Y/N, sweetheart, I’m a changed man.”

Your brow lifts. “Oh?”

Hoseok sighs with exhaustion. “The war is coming. Everyone says it ain’t, but we all know it’s coming. Before I’m drafted to go out to the field and die, I’d like to open my heart once and love someone completely.” He stares at you once more. “And if it’s you, I think I can do it.”

You’re filled with bafflement again. “I...you…”

“At least give me a chance, Y/N.” The rain pitter patters against the green awning of the florist’s shop, the scent of the fresh earth fills your senses and you feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace. More so, Hoseok’s pleading twitches your fingers and melts the barrier around your vulnerable heart. “Let me take you out on a date. What do you say?”

It’s the first thing you think of. You whisper it in a gentle voice.

“What about your soulmate?”

“That’s not a problem.” He smiles, looking out at the street that still pours. “Don’t have one, never will. I’m a free soul.”

“Huh.” You giggle, having never heard such a thing aside from it coming out of your own mouth. “Soulmate-less people do exist after all, don’t they?”

“They sure do. And once people figure it out, there’s gonna be nothing but pity for folks like me.”

He can already feel your skin on his, a simple brush of the shoulders but it leaves him aching. Hoseok wonders what those lips taste like, sweet or of crisp citrus, how soft your mouth would feel on his, what it would be like to swallow your pants and make you the happiest woman on this damn forsaken planet.

“You mean folk like us.” You bring him out from his daydream, and he realizes that it’s better to be in reality since you’re here by his side, in the flesh and beautifully smiling. “I don’t have a soulmate either. I can tell. It’s something in me that says so.”

“Yeah…” He gazes at you, amazed at how true your words are. He really hasn’t met anyone like you, who knew him better than he did, who felt the things that he did, someone to share sadness with. “I’ve never met anyone where I’ve felt a burst of electricity. For all I know, my world has always been bright colours and all that sort.”

“Hmm…” You look at him, locking your eyes into his fixed stare. “You know, you feel real familiar, Jung Hoseok. Maybe we’ve met before this life.”

The man grins. “That’s the kind of line I used to use when I was trying to flirt with somebody.”

You nudge him, brushing your shoulder against his again. “Maybe I am trying to flirt.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, you may.”

His lips touch yours until he caresses the back of your neck, holding you close until your chest is pressed against his and his frame shelters you. Candy - he grins when he finally figures out the sweet taste, and he chases the flavour of your velvet lips until a gentle whine leaves your throat.

Although there is no burst of electricity, your heart doesn’t stop and your breath doesn’t get caught, all you know is that you’re happy. And this is enough for you.

Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

You don’t mean to be head over heels for the man, certainly don’t mean for him to take your heart and kiss you senseless until your limbs feel of butter. When your parents scold your ears off, you resolve to break the relationship but somehow, you run back into his arms like a fool. He takes you and comforts you like a man has never done before. You don’t mean to smile so brightly when he calls you beautiful. You don’t mean to be so weak that you feel marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t mean any of these things but Hoseok was always a cunning one.

Maybe it is a mistake but the best one you’ve ever made.

“This is my old babe.” Hoseok slaps her trunk lightly. “Someone threw ‘er away and I told my pop I’d fix her up and I did it. I gotta admit, I love her to death.”

“More than me?’

“Maybe.” He teases and chuckles when you roll your eyes. There’s nothing special, at least not in your eyes, but when you lay a finger, your boyfriend inhales sharply. “Careful now. This is a Cadillac Sixty Special.”

You give him an unimpressed expression, hands on your hips and head quirked to one side. “I’m starting to really believe you love a car more than me.”

“I’m just joking, babe.” Hoseok leans over and plants a soft kiss on your mouth. Before you can pout, he opens the backseat door and ushers you inside. “For m’lady.”

You get in, and he follows soon after, shutting it and the pair of you stare out the empty road.

There’s a long pause. “This it?”

“What do you mean?” He gasps. “This is the best view you could get! This car’s the best!”

You sigh again and Hoseok laughs, leaning over and draping his arm over you, pulling you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m just kidding around. I know a view that’s much better than this.”

“And what’s that?” To answer your question, his other hand begins to skim on your thigh, fingertips tracing your skin, getting higher and higher and shifting your cotton dress up until your underwear peeks out. You grab his wrist, looking around and whispering in hushes, “What are you thinking?! We’re out in broad daylight in your parent’s driveway!”

“No one’s around, honey. C’mon…” He noses at your hair and it’s not like you don’t want this. You do very much, perhaps more than him but you’re also afraid of what would happen if Mrs. Kim, the next door neighbor, decides to walk her little puppy and faints when she sees what’s going on.

Finally, after some contemplation, you grab Hoseok’s face, pressing your mouth against his until he smiles into the kiss. “You better make this worth my while, Jung.”

His pupils are blown out, lips swollen and ready to devour you in the backseat of his used car. “Oh, I will.”

At the very least, he cares about you enough to be okay with staining the leather.

Regardless of what troubles you face - your parents’ disapproval, the looming presence of the war, your own worries and anxieties about the relationship - Jung Hoseok is constantly around the corner. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. The man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies and maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

“Jung Hoseok here to save the beautiful m’lady.”

There’s a blazing smile written across his features and you laugh, causing him to melt into a warmer smile. He jogs up to you, draping a coat over your shoulders to defend you against the slight nipping breeze. The pair of you are taking a walk around his neighborhood, an odd pastime but one you insisted on.

“Are you okay?”

You secure the warm fabric over your exposed skin, savouring his scent that is lingering on each stitch of the wool fabric. “I’m fine. Why?”

Hoseok wiggles his brows in a suggestive manner. “Because you were limping the other day.”

You scoff. “And that was because of who?”

Your boyfriend giggles sweetly, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close into his chest. You ease from the gesture, the nervousness temporarily rolling off your shoulders. As the both of you pass a minty coloured mailbox, you finally break the silence.

“Hey, have you been getting your mail lately?”

“Every Sunday as usual. Why?” He is amused at the strange question, turning to look at you but already having an inkling on what the whole gist is about. “Are you worried about the war?”

You hide your face, diverting your eyes and your voice is soft, barely on the edge of breaking. “You know they already told Namjoon and Jimin? Those two are leaving next week, packing all their bags, saying goodbye to their loved ones and family members and...and-”

“Hey. Hey now. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” He gently boinks your head with his, smiling and placing a kiss on the crown. “They’re older than I am and my brother hasn’t even been called yet. There’s no way they’ll call me first. Plus if I did go, I’d have Namjoon and Jimin and my brother to look out for me.”

“But what if-”

“No what if’s. Don’t wanna hear it.” He sulks with a pout, letting go of you and instead, catching your hand within his. He holds it tight, lacing your fingers together and you smile at him sadly.

“Are you scared?”

“Nope.” He punctuates the syllable and shakes his head. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m not afraid.”

You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay if you are. I would be.”

“Why are you suddenly asking me all these questions?” He stops in front of his house, holding you close and staring at your expression. “What’s going on in that little pretty head of yours that has you worrying so much?”

Hoseok knows you too well at this point. Your cheeks flush and you stare at the ground. “There is something. And, I’m scared of what you’re gonna say when you know.”

“Scared of what I'm gonna say?” He laughs and kisses your cheek. “Darling, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Don’t you know that I’m fearless?”

You lift your brow in an incredulous manner. “Really?”

“Except for spiders, I don’t fight things that’s got more than six legs,” he teases and then becomes serious, “but enough of the jokes, what’s wrong?”

“I...we’re….” You hesitate, stuttering and an absolute mess. Maybe it’s foolish but you trust this man with all your heart and you love him so. Hence, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself before the storm comes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“What.”

“I’m pregnant?” You nervously laugh, swinging your held hands and staring at your shoes. “I don’t know how long it’s been but I haven’t been feeling well lately and I haven’t had my...cycle in a while. All the signs, I got them.”

“Oh wow.” He exhales a lungful, looking off into the distance without an expression. Hoseok is in a state of disbelief, unable to wrap his mind around it, and he repeats you a few times, “We’re gonna have a baby. A baby.”

“Yep…” You study him carefully, having not expected much but the lack of communication was no less than being put on a tightrope, holding your breath and on the brink of anticipation. “What do you think?”

“That’s….I’m….I’m going to go...for a bit..”

“What?!” Out of all the possible reactions, this had to hurt the most - there was no reaction. “You’re leaving?!”

“I just have to.” He begins to back away, getting to his vehicle that’s parked at the side. “I gotta get some air. See you.”

“Wait!” You run after him, shouting with all your might as he gets into his little precious car. “Jung Hoseok!” He ignores you completely, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the engine while you bang on the window. “Hoseok! We’re going to talk about this!”

Despite your fist pounding against the window, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, he pulls away from the curb and goes into reverse. “Hoseok- Fuck! OW FUCKING SHIT!”

As he was backing up, he mercilessly runs over your foot.

Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your squashed, dirty shoe. You attempt to rip your limb away from under the rubber tire but the force is too much. It feels like you’ve broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your tattered nylon sock. It swells and screams. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, he finally drives his car off, freeing your extremity, disappearing in the distant fog and abandoning you on the side of the road.

“Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the sky, knocking your head back and letting your broken foot pulsate and throb inside your poor sandal. “HOSEOK!”

You should’ve known better.

At the first sign of commitment, he had ran for the hills and was never seen again. You were lied to. You were betrayed. It didn’t matter if you loved him until your heart ached and it didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You should’ve listened - to others and to your own instinct. The familiar feeling about the man that put you on edge was a warning.

Jung Hoseok is never there when you truly need him.

When you knock on his door, his mother tells you he is not there. When you hear that he has been sent a letter, he is not there. When you wait for a final goodbye, he is not there. When you search for him desperately at the train station before he is sent to the war, he is not there.

When your foot heals, he is not there.

When you lose the baby, he is not there.

When you cry until it hurts, he is not there.

When you find out that he has died in the midst of the battlefield, he is truly gone forever.

“I’m sorry.”

His comrade lowers his head, hat held in his hand, teardrops dripping on your front doorstep. “W-we couldn’t even get his dog tags. He’s gone, Y/N. Hoseok is dead.”

Jung Hoseok never comes back.

He never gets to face your wrath, your revenge, your anger or heartbreak. He could never marry you if he wanted to, hold you in his arms and apologize a thousand times, try again to raise a child and to kiss your lips on days when you’re tired. He is not there to grow old with you.

And you have never been angrier.

“Who said you could leave, Jung Hoseok?!”

You screech it to the sobbing sky, embracing the cold and harsh rain drilling on your skull. It drenches you, anchoring you to the ground and you ignore the dirt that splashes against your black dress, walking further and further out to the field.

“You were supposed to go down on your knees and beg for my fucking forgiveness!” You shriek until your throat is raw, crying it out until you’re not sure what is teardrops or raindrops. It aches everywhere and he isn’t here. He isn’t here. Hoseok isn’t here anymore. “You were supposed to cry when you found out the baby’s gone! Bastard. You are a fucking bastard! You know that?!”

No matter where you go, Hoseok is always able to find you. But why does he never show up when you need him the most?

“You threw me away! You left me alone like everyone said you would! I resent you!” Your voice gives out, a mere whimper that no one can hear against the thundering sky. “I resent being in love with you. You were supposed to stay with me, goddammit!”

The rain is ugly. It reminds you of the day you kissed him.

“When I meet you again, I swear I’ll never forget the things you’ve done to me. All of it.” You’re not done with Hoseok, far from it. You still have to grab him by the collar, curse and scream and swear at him until he apologizes. You never got to kiss him one last time, embrace him, stare at his face until it’s imprinted into your mind. You didn’t get to say goodbye yet.

Although the rain can’t, the Heavens can hear the oath you vow.

“I’ll never forget you,” you breathe, “or so help me god!”

[Present Day]

You live in fear.

Regardless of where you are, you’re constantly on edge. You look over your shoulder, running from one city to another, frightened when you catch a tall figure with tousled black hair. It’s been years since you’ve been like this but it seems like you’re still suffering without him around.

“So, we’re just going to trim half an inch of your hair.”

You smile in the mirror as the hairdresser positions her silver scissors. “Yes, please.”

But as you catch a person entering the salon, chiseled jaw and sharp nose, dark locks and great height, you flinch and cower. The lady screams, “hold still!”.

Though, it’s too late.

Your head ends up with a horrendous bob haircut. And it wasn’t who you thought it was either. The man was a stranger.

On another particular day, while making it to your work and gripping an umbrella over your head as it drizzles, across the road and past the fog, you catch a familiar person. Of course as any sane individual would, you scream and try to book it the other way. Unfortunately, your heel ends up getting caught in the cracks of the sidewalk and you collide with a random pedestrian, twisting your ankle in the process as you face-plant.

Once again, the person you saw was a stranger.

“Have you found your soulmate yet, Y/N?”

Your colleague quirks her head to the side, fingers laced together with her husband’s. You down your glass of wine, ordering another from the bar and you look her dead in her eyes.

“Don’t have one.”

She doesn’t ask anymore questions.

If you knew what your grandmother had told you all those years ago, if you knew even before this life and all the others, you would’ve stayed the fuck away from any name of Jung Hoseok.

You don’t have a soulmate. Far from it. But no longer are you dripping in envy, a green monster to the love surrounding the universe. You’re just trying to survive.

You don’t have a soulmate, though, you’re not completely free either...no...you have something much, much different and much worse. You have a destructive parasite, destined to ruin each path that you take and cause you sadness, pain, anger. You have something that is guaranteed to lie to you, betray your trust, to hurt you in ways where you’re unable to stand back up again.

Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy.

“Why couldn’t anyone else go?” You grumble incoherently underneath your breath, eyes shut tight and head leaning against the cold window. “Dammit, dammit.”

“Welcome aboard on flight W560 and thank you for flying on our airlines today. Please make sure your belt is on when the plane takes off and prepares to land. There will be a light above-”

The white noise and engine whirling in the back adds to your thumping headache and anxiousness. You try to drown out the noise, ears ringing and motion sickness teasing you as the airplane begins to roll on the taxiway to the runway. At the very least, you were in business class and there were relatively nice seats, a lot of legroom as well. Luckily, you’re also able to miss the long-winded instructions and the entire takeoff when you fall asleep for about an hour.

It’s only when your shoulder brushes with the stranger beside you that you’re gently coaxed to consciousness. It’s warm. You can’t remember the last time you had such a nice nap. And your lids flutter, slowly opening your eyes. You meet someone beside you and your lips fall. Your heart stops.

You scream.

“Shush!” Hoseok reaches over to clamp a hand over your mouth but you flinch. A flash of hurt crosses his features, and he withdraws his hands, pressing his finger to his own mouth to signal you to be quiet instead. “Stop it, Y/N!”

You continue to scream, startling and scaring all the surrounding passengers. You cower away from Hoseok, drawing your limbs together and nearly falling out of your seat like you’re afraid his touch will burn you. From the close proximity, you feel suffocated. You are smothered.

For years, you’ve been running. Ever since you knew about the past, you’ve avoided him like the plague. It must be a consequence from fate now that you’re literally boxed in a long rectangle in the sky. But if he’s here...that means something horrible is bound to happen.

Oh god...you’re going to die, aren’t you?

“The plane’s gonna fall!”

You shout in hysterics, crying so hard that you can’t see straight. The flight attendants have gathered in the commotion, trying to understand what’s happened and the reason for the sudden distressed outburst. “We’re going to crash and burn! It’s going to fall!”

The people around gasp, murmuring and panicking from your proclamation of the aircraft plunging into the ocean below.

The attendants rush to pacify you. “We need you to remain calm. Take a deep breath.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You shake uncontrollably, hugging your own body and weeping to the point where your chest hurts. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! Please!”

“The plane won’t fall, Miss L/N.” A flight attendant calls your name once they’ve learnt it and someone kneels in front of you. “There’s just a little bit of turbulence which is caused by strong winds. You’re going to be perfectly fine! We’re going to land in a half an hour! Would you like to walk to the front and take a breather?”

The comforting voices of the attendant and the others in the background calming the passengers around drown out of your ears. You’re still weeping, for all the centuries, all the lives you lived, for fear and hatred, for pain and sadness. Because Jung Hoseok is here.

He’s finally here when you don’t want him to be.

“I-I…”

You want to switch seats. You want to get away from the man beside you. You want an escape.

But you also know that as long as he’s on this aircraft, the possibility of it tumbling downwards to crash and burn are all the same. It doesn’t matter how close he is to you or the distance down to the millimeter. As long as he is around, you’re not safe.

“Y/N.” It’s a soft and sweet voice, an intimate timbre that rattles inside your skull and pulls you away from your blinded fit. The tears in your eyes fall, no longer clouding the surroundings. The pace of your heart thumps to a regular rhythm, breath steadying with each rise and fall of your chest.

Your eyes have locked with his. Hoseok gazes at you, having lost the details of your features from his memory and restoring all the changes that have happened over the lost years of your lives together. The man seems to hesitate before he lifts his hand, putting it on top of yours.

This time, you don’t flinch.

His thumb runs along your skin. “We’re going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen. I swear to you. So, please, trust in me this one time.”

There’s a pause.

The flight attendant takes a sigh of relief when you’re no longer ballistic. They look between you and the man, recognizing that the pair of you must’ve had some kind of prior relationship. And they decide to stand back, somewhere nearby in case you need assistance but enough to give you space to relax.

“W-Why are you here?”

“I’m going on a business trip.” He tries to explain himself, looking down at his lap. It’s been too long since you’ve last spoken to one another. “I work at an insurance company now.”

You snort. He looks up and you provide the explanation before he can ask. “That’s ironic considering you ran over my foot.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “I did?”

It makes you sick. You don’t want to think about the past.

Your head leans against the window and you cross your arms, looking out at the white clouds instead of his face. There’s a chance you might punch him in the jaw and you’d certainly be detained if you did such a thing. “You just happened to sit next to me?”

“It was a coincidence.” His voice moves up a pitch in defense. “I swear, I didn’t plan this out. I don’t even know that you were going to be on this flight. You can check my ticket! I’m supposed to sit here! When I got here, I saw you asleep, so I just sat down.”

Of course, it was a coincidence. Fate is such a bitch.

Hoseok inhales a deep breath. “Y/N, I don’t even know what you’ve been doing for the past few years.”

“Good.” You mirthlessly smile and it doesn’t reach your dead eyes. “If there’s one thing I’m doing right, it’s not letting you know where the hell I am and not knowing where the hell you are. I need you to stay away from me. As far as fucking possible.”

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t.”

The last time you saw Hoseok was at the parking lot of the theaters back in university. The last time was when you kissed him, remembered and left running. In the midst, he was stunned, hand reaching out to your retreating form and pain struck in his chest and on his face.

You had begun to run since then and it’s been nearly a decade. True to the doctor’s diagnosis and your own grandmother’s words, you didn’t have a soulmate. Everyone around you had gotten married or became engaged to their kindred spirit while you wandered the planet alone.

But you didn’t care. As long as you were away from him, you didn’t want anything else.

“I still love y-”

“Be...be quiet.” It physically pains you to speak to Hoseok. “I beg of you. Before I get another anxiety attack, I need you to stop and pretend that you’re invisible. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t breathe.”

You shut your eyes tight, unable to see his expression. “But I need you to listen to me.”

“I don’t want to listen, alright?!” You’ve been traumatized, the grief clinging onto each of your bones and you feel tears well up in your eyes again. Each time you look at Hoseok, the faces of your previous self shows and you recall history; the smother flames engulfing your home, illness plaguing you as the quill trembles in your hand, standing naked on a stage while a man sells you to a crowd, being beaten to a pulp and running….running...running.

And the most painful of all memories: being abandoned after knowing love.

“I’m scared of you. You scare me shitless. Every single time I’ve met you, you messed me up somehow so please!”

Fortunately for you, Hoseok complies with your wishes. For the rest of the flight, you don’t hear a single peep out of his mouth and once the plane has landed, you hurl yourself out as fast as possible.

You never once look behind.

“When are you going back to work?”

Your mother asks as she sets breakfast down at the table and your father discards the newspaper. Maybe it was taking it one step too far but now that you knew Hoseok was living somewhere in the city, you couldn’t risk going back. If you encountered him once, chances were high that he would keep coming back and back into your life.

You couldn’t return. At least not until you figured where to run off to next.

“Not sure yet. I saved a lot of vacation days up so maybe I’ll stick around for two weeks.”

Presently, you were hidden in the secluded outskirts of your grandmother’s old house. Technically, it’s your parents’ since they moved into the quiet and quaint place for their retirement years. It’s a home for you too and it’s been a long time since you’ve visited.

“Well alright then.” Your mother seems appeased by the answer and you dig into the toast. She hesitates, exchanging a look with your father and you can recall why you haven’t been back in so long. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

“Nope.”

“Y/N, sweetie, are you even trying to look?”

“No.” By being as clear-cut and simple, you hope they won’t ask anymore. “I’d rather not.”

“But how will you ever find them?”

You fill your mouth up before pointing your fork to the pair of them, narrowing your eyes. “Didn’t you say that if they’re my soulmate, I’ll meet them anyway?”

Your father nods in agreeance. “But it doesn’t help to look for ‘em, y’know. Makes the process faster.”

Your mother hums and you can already tell the gears inside her head are beginning to turn. She considers everyone that she knows, friends of relatives, children of friends, anyone who you might know. “What about that boy that you were friends with during preschool? He went to the same schools as you all the way to college too, right? What was his name?”

Before you can stop her, she says it. “Jung Hoseok!”

You choke on your orange juice, coughing and heaving. Your mother’s eyes are twinkling, and she grins with your father. “That would make sense, huh? Together since you were children?! And I spoke to his mother a month back. He hasn’t met anyone either, right? Maybe you two are soulmates.”

“That’s impossible.”

Literally — Hoseok is the opposite of your soulmate. If your parents knew that he was your enemy, destined to cause you suffering and chaos, they’d never mention him again. Maybe they’d voodoo him and throw salt all over their doorstep too. But you can’t break the news and cause them heartache. You can’t bear to say it and let them know that their only child not only will end up alone in this life and the next, but they have someone out in the world that will cause them endless pain.

“Plus,” you add, “don’t soulmates recognize each other upon meeting?”

Your mother’s brow furrows, realizing that you’re right but your father taps his chin, not ready to give up on the idea. “I’ve been reading lately and the T.V. says there’s a lot of things that go into soulmates so who knows, maybe it’s just a late blooming relationship.”

You hold back a laugh. “I seriously doubt it.”

“Don’t give up hope, L/N Y/N. You hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding. “You’ll meet the one someday. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. You always do and there’s nothing you can do to run away from it!”

Christ...you can only hope she’s wrong.

The field was verdant in hue, the mint walls of your bedroom and soft beryl flowers haunted you. Green was the colour of your envy, of the luck that you didn’t have, of your greed for love and companionship. But it was also the shade of the serene nature that surrounded you, the symbol of healing and of hope. Hope that would certainly hurt you in the end.

More importantly, the colour reminded you of him. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

“Y/N! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother’s call has you stumbling down the stairs in confusion. There wasn’t anyone that you knew around these parts and- “It’s been so long! We were actually talking about you earlier. Oh, speaking of which, you haven’t met your soulmate yet, right, Hoseok?”

You freeze. Your mother moves aside. The man is standing in front of your doorway with a sheepish smile, one that conveys too many apologies at once.

He’s a hundred years too late.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just thought we should talk.”

“Now, Y/N.” Your mother butts in. “Be nice to our guest! It’s been so long since I’ve seen him as well. Hoseok, dear, would you like to go in for a drink of coffee or tea? You can stay for as long as you’d like-”

“No.” You stride past her, grabbing onto his sleeve and dragging him away. “We’re talking outside.”

It hurts. It pains you beyond belief. You never thought you had to face him again. Yet, here you are. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. And it drives you crazy in the worst ways.

“How did you even find me here?”

You’re tapping your foot, arms crossed, completely unimpressed with his presence. On the other hand, Hoseok is meekly smiling at you, taking in the quiet surroundings of the field. It reminds him of an era that was long ago where it was more tranquil, and he was by your side, taking aimless strolls to waste the evening away.

“You took me here in the first grade and then again in ninth and twelve. You might not remember but we grew up together.” He watches you carefully. “In this life. Not the other ones. In this one, we were friends long before anything else happened.”

“Used to be.” You correct. “We used to be friends.”

There’s a silence.

“Why are you even here, Hoseok?” You break the summer birds’ song, interrupting the sun’s fall from the horizon. “Is it to apologize so you can feel better about yourself? Do you want to try to move on? Well guess what, you’re too late. You’re lifetimes and lifetimes too late.”

He takes a moment to decide his words. “I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

You laugh without an inch of happiness. “I think it’s for good reason, don’t you?”

“I still care about you. I love you, Y/N.”

You spin on your heel, having absolutely none of it. It takes all the strength in your muscles to begin to walk away from him. Hoseok inhales a breath and for once, the roles are reversed.

He watches your backside disappear slowly, counting each step you take that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

He takes the leap of courage before you’re gone.

“In the sixteenth century,” he screams and you stop, “I didn’t betray you because I wanted to. It was the plan from the start. The people were suffering and the kingdom needed to be overthrown. The painter...I...still loved you very much.”

The bandage around the wound is ripped straight off. It hasn't healed. It stings.

“When you wrote all those books in the seventeenth, I just wanted to help you and get your work out there in the world. I...I came back and I didn’t know you had d-...d...died.”

Hoseok almost begins to cry. His nails sink into his clothing. His head drops to the floor. It hits you like a bullet train - you weren’t the only one who was tortured.

You turn around to face him.

“In the eighteenth, I was a fucking douchebag, I know. But I had suffered so much as a peasant. I wanted a better life for myself. It...It wasn’t my intention to make you suffer too.”

You call his name, and he ignores you, continuing onwards.

“The nineteenth.” Hoseok smiles past saltwater eyes. “It was better for you not to gamble. I would have fed you, given you a warm home, and I was going to release you after a year. And maybe, maybe you would have stayed if I asked you to.”

You step closer to the boy and you wait for the reasons of the years that hurt you the most.

“In the twentieth — I’m sorry.”

Jung Hoseok, like all you had hoped for, collapses onto his knees. He faces the dirt, tears dripping like raindrops. “I was a coward. I was too afraid of everything.”

Your shadow looms over him. He grabs onto the hem of your sweater, anchoring him down to the ground, and he begs for your forgiveness. It’s pathetic, the way he sobs but you don’t feel a single morsel of satisfaction like you thought you would. It aches. Everywhere.

“You didn’t say goodbye to me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Your arms stay by your side and you look down at him.

“I lost the baby.”

Hoseok cries harder. “I’m sorry.”

“I waited for you.”

He continues to apologize, each one full of sincerity and anguish. “I’m sorry.”

“You were supposed to stay with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your hand lifts. You hold Hoseok close to you, carding your fingers through the familiar black locks. It’s been the same pigment for all the centuries you’ve known each other for.

“Every single day, I waited for you to come back and you never did.”

His tears stain the fabric of your clothes. “I’m sorry.”

“You were never there when I needed you the most.”

He stands himself back up onto wobbling legs, on a face drenched with tears, with a heart weak and overwhelmed. “B-but I’m here now.” He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and you linger in the close proximity, yearning to be closer yet keeping the distance.

“I’m scared that the longer I spend with you, the worse the outcome will be in the end.”

“I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t apologize. This time, it isn’t his fault. “I just...I can’t leave you. I can’t do it. In all the lives we’ve shared together, I’ve loved you in each one. But I never fought hard enough. I never fought hard enough for you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you scare me.” You lock your eyes with him. “I’m scared of what will happen later on, if you’ll end up causing me more grief, if I somehow die in a tragic death and never live peacefully or happily. How many more times do we have to keep living like that before we learn that it’s better to stay apart?”

“But it’s not up for fate to decide for me!” He shouts it with resentments of the past, of the hand of destiny and his own choices that have led you to become so petrified of him and to be so broken. “I don’t fucking care about destiny or about soulmates or whatever the hell we are! Enemies?! I don’t care!”

You scream back, “How can you not care?!”

“Fate doesn’t control me.” He’s out of breath and your eyes widen. “And as long as I’m breathing, I’ll make sure I’ll continue to atone for my mistakes. I’ll make sure you’re the happiest woman alive.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask him, pleading for an answer, gazing into his eyes. “How can you be so sure of yourself? Of us?”

“Because I love you. I love you,” Hoseok repeats. “And maybe that’s not enough. Maybe it’s not enough to beat whatever’s been predetermined for us. Maybe it’s not enough to restore your trust in me. But I love you. And I can’t walk away from us. I’ll try as many times as I need to. I will fight for as many centuries as I need to. All I know is that I want to be with you....in this life and the next.”

“You’re stupid.” You shake your head. “You’re stupid for believing that we can beat fate but maybe I’m more stupid...for always fucking believing in you.”

One moment you’re shouting at each other and the next you’re tearfully laughing.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe you’ll end up suffering again and again, back on the endless loop of hardships and heartbreak. Maybe it’s dumb of you to think that you can beat fate at its own game. You’ve been hurt enough times. How much more can you handle and how many more times will it take for you to learn? Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy after all.

But maybe he’s right.

Maybe you have more control of your life than you thought. Maybe it isn’t up to destiny or some unseen source. At the end, your existence wouldn’t be worth anything if you keep on running away. A peaceful life but an unhappy one isn’t what you want.

You love Hoseok. In this life. In the last ones. You always have.

All you need is a leap of courage and to fight hard for what you want.

“Then let’s fight together.” You wrap your arms around him, staring at him until it’s imprinted into your mind, embracing his body and kissing his lips once - fulfilling all your wishes from the previous life. “You can make my life as much of a hell as you want. Just don’t leave.”

“I won’t.” He pulls you close, arms around your shoulders and holding you tightly. Hoseok breathes in your familiar scent, crying and endlessly grateful for your existence. He does all the things he should’ve done. And he keeps you close.

You giggle, melting into the hug. “I still love you.”

Although your love is not a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught - the universe doesn’t suddenly shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder - this love is yours.

“I love you too.”

It is yours. A constant work in progress, a construction of hard effort and bruised hands, of tired and relentless struggle but it’s one that you fight for. And it’s one that you know, you’ll be proud of in the end.

“Now stop crying and come inside.” You tease him, stroking his hair and patting his back. “I think my mom and dad are watching from the window.” He nods and sniffles and you laugh.

This man was once a painter and editor, a swindler and a loan shark, a soldier as well. But now, the boy is your old friend and someone you cherish with every part of your being.

Instead of looking behind, you focus on the horizon and your fingers lace together with his. “Stay with me for a while?”

Hoseok grins. “Always.”

No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

And now he’s here when you need the most.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #hoseok scenario #'insert more tags that the popular kids use these days'#FINALLY I GET TO SHARE THIS STORY #IT'S BEEN SITTING IN MY FILES FOR TOO LONG #/SLAMS DESK/#im excited

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