#9 clocks; 5 of which work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheftsunoda · 2 months ago

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heal your heart—cl16

smau + real life

carlos sainz x !sister singer reader

charles leclerc x sainz reader

catalina sainz has it all— she is a successful grammy award winning artist, her brother is a well known formula 1 driver, she has an amazing family and wonderful friends. she was also blessed with a fiance and a beautiful baby boy.. she had everything.. until she didn't. her fiance disappears and takes her son with him. catalina watches as her world crumbles...who will be there to help pick up the pieces?

fc : kali uchis

part two here

part three here

part four here

—

deuxmoi posted an update!

liked by 2,593,583 people.

deuxmoi : sources report that this blind item is about catalina sainz..yikes..let us know what you think!

—

username : NOOOO MY SHAYLAAAAAA....my poor baby

username1 : she has been so happy since becoming a mother...you can tell that baby is her whole world. he NEEDS to return that baby NEOWWW. i do not play about miss catalina.

username4 : he took the kid too? that is not just a breakup, that’s a custody crisis. hope she has a good lawyer.

username7 : Y’all love gossip until it’s your fave going through it. This is heartbreaking if true.

username14 : This is why you don’t rush into engagements with people who love the spotlight more than you do. He was just using her.

username20 : hey could you like not be a dick rn...this is her family and real life

username20 : hope and pray this isn’t true. she always seemed like such a devoted mom. taking the child? next level cruel.

username15 : okkkk but who is this fiancé? if u r bold enough to cross the Sainz family and take a child, you better lawyer up and hide...

username : the funny thing is... he is not even famous so he would be using her money to hire a lawyer

username15 : mans is TOAST

username24 : carlos' jet just left for japan...and the drivers are not even supposed to be at the track for another 4 days or so..

liked by author

username10 : ohhh shittt

username17 : i know lando is somewhere fuming... that man do not play about the sainz'

—

twitter thread!

f1gossipgirls : THREAD: The Catalina Sainz Situation – What We Know, What We Think We Know, and What Might Happen Next.

Buckle up. This one’s messy. (1/10)

So here’s the deal...rumors broke this week that Catalina Sainz—is dealing with a secret breakup and a custody issue involving her fiancé. Allegedly, he left her and took their son without warning. (2/10)

Who is the fiancé? Not confirmed, but fan detectives say he’s a lowkey entrepreneur Catalina’s been quietly seeing for a couple of years. Private IG. Almost no photos together. Suspiciously absent since March. (3/10)

Sources close to the situation say Catalina came home from a trip to LA for work and found them gone. Just a piece of paper that said he was done...Just—gone. (4/10)

Here’s where it gets interesting... Carlos has reportedly stopped following the fiancé on social media (they used to interact), and fans noticed he looked especially tense during a recent press moment and a fan interaction at the airport. (5/10)

Speaking of the aiport...Fan detectives found that Carlos' jet took off for Japan this morning when the drivers are not due at Suzuka for another 4 days...Catalina is rumored to be hiding out in Japan.

(6/10)

Some speculate Carlos has already hired lawyers to get Catalina’s son back. One tweet claims he’s “mobilizing legal resources across two countries.” If that’s true… this isn’t just messy, it’s international. (7/10)

Another theory? This was brewing for months. Catalina’s last public event appearance was in April—she looked off. No ring. No family. No fiancé. Just a carefully curated smile. Fans clocked it then. (8/10)

And let’s not forget... Carlos and Catalina are both famously private. If this went public, it’s not by his or her choice. Which might mean Catalina needs help—and someone close leaked it to apply pressure. (9/10)

Catalina Sainz may have been blindsided by her fiancé, who allegedly took their son and vanished. Carlos is probably involved behind the scenes. And this story? Just getting started. (10/10)

Stay tuned. We’re watching.

view comments

username : if a man took my kid and disappeared...i would def call my big brother too...esp if it was carlos. imagine trying to hide the kid from the whole f1 community #goodluckbro

username2 :the way Carlos is probably trying to keep this under wraps but has already called every lawyer in Spain, Italy, and the UAE...

username5 : netflix pls scrap dts and make a docuseries on finding baby sainz...

netflix : not a bad idea

username7 : IF Carlos shows up to Japan GP with a baby on his hip and no explanation, I’m gonna lose it. FULL TELENOVELA ENERGY.

username14 : me drafting an international missing persons report and i don’t even know them. i am rather emotionally involved now...CAT IS SO MOTHER SHE NEEDS HER BABY

username20 : need cat to come back with a breakup anthem that shames tf outta this man like...'you took my son i took the house'

usernameee : i cannot with you - bye

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : F1 announced this morning via Twitter that Carlos Sainz will not be present for Media Day at Suzuka. Williams states that it is due to 'personal issues'.

view comments

usernamee : this man’s sister is in hiding and his nephew is missing and y’all thought he was gonna sit down and chit chat w press??

username1 : 'personal reasons' in this particular situation from carlos means 'i am currently in my liam neeson taken arc...srry yall'

username3 : its giving 'media day is canceled because i am currently tracking someone across international borders.'

username4 : williams better be ready to lie, deflect, and deny all weekend because if a single journalist asks about this, it’s over.

username14 : williams : “It’s personal reasons.” us: kk but does “personal” mean international child recovery operation or revenge-fueled manhunt? just so we’re clear...

username17 : media day being cancelled is fine but if he shows up to FP1 wearing all black and dead silent I will SCREAM.

username21 : cat is hiding in the mountains. carlos is skipping press. williams abs giving us nothing...no longer a paddock—it’s a crime scene

usernameee : IF Carlos speaks at all this weekend, i hope it’s just “he’s been found.” then pure silence.

—

transcript of james vowles speaking to the press.

press : “James, can you comment on Carlos Sainz’s withdrawal from media duties today? There’s been a lot of speculation.”

jv : “Carlos is an incredibly dedicated driver. When he misses something, there’s always a good reason. Out of respect for him, I think it’s best we let him speak on it directly.”

press :

"Will he be completely pulling out of the race this weekend?"

jv :

"I am not sure the answer to that at this time. I will communicate who will be driving as soon as Carlos reaches out again."

press : “Is it true he's left the circuit entirely?”

jv : “Well, I can’t confirm anyone’s location—I’m not in charge of tracking my drivers,” “but I can tell you that williams supports him, whatever the circumstances may be.”

press : “So… is he okay?”

jv : “I think he’s doing what needs to be done. And I’ll leave it at that.”

—

flashback - catalina's home - madrid spain - 7:18 am

I slid gently out of the back seat of the blacked out SUV. I had just returned home to Madrid after being in LA for some work related issues. I gripped at my suitcases as I began to walk towards the front door. I was so excited to be at home. I was beyond tired and just wanted to crawl into bed and hold my son—my pride and joy.

The front door creaked open slower than usual. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe it was just the jet lag getting to me. My suitcase thunked softly against the tile as I dragged it inside. The house was still. Much too still.

No tiny socks by the couch. No squeals of welcome. No welcome home kisses pressed to my cheeks. No low hum of the TV playing in the background.

I tell myself over and over again that this silence is normal. Maybe they are napping- its early. Maybe he took him for a walk- maybe the park. I held onto that maybe with a death grip.

The air felt off...almost stiff...as if the house was even holding its breath.

"Hello?" I called out softly, hoping and praying for response. No answer not even an echo to be heard.

I stepped into the kitchen. The windows were open- he would never leave with the windows open. There was a folded piece of paper left under a mug...the mug he would always pour my tea in. I swallowed- hard.

My chest knew before my brain caught up. I reached for it slowly, my fingers like ice.

One line. Scrawled in that slanted, indifferent handwriting I used to trace on love notes.

“I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.”

No signature. No “I’m sorry.” No mention of the child we made together.

The edges of the paper blur. Not from tears. I haven't cried yet. I can’t. I am much too cold all of a sudden.

I fall back allowing the counter to help catch my footing. I suddenly feel my whole body go numb. I reach out and push myself up, not allowing those nine words to make me fall to my feet.

I walk the hallway in a trance and crack open the nursery door. The crib is gone. The rocking chair is gone. Even his little bear nightlight—gone. Like I had never once rocked my baby to sleep in there. Like he never existed.

I don't scream. I don't break. I just stand there, arms limp at my sides, until the silence becomes deafening.

I checked the drawers. Half empty. The wardrobe. Empty. The toy chest absolutely bare. A cold, calculated theft of love. Quiet, surgical.

I drop the note to the floor and wrap my arms around myself as I if I could protect myself from what I just experienced...protect myself from this deafening silence. I knew right then...I had to run. I couldn't live here without my baby— my joy, my reason to keep going. I didn't know where I would go but it didn't matter.

—

I booked the flight under my middle name. No return date, no checked baggage. Just my tote bag with a sweater, a passport and prescription for pills I haven't touched since I got pregnant with my son.

No one stopped me, no one even notices me. Not in the airport, not in the first class lounge, not even the flight attendant who handed me my tea and mistook my silence for sleep. If anyone looks twice, they look away just as fast. That’s the trick—move like you belong, and people won’t ask why your eyes are swollen or your hands won’t stop shaking.

Tokyo is loud, crowded, too alive. I took the first train out of the city.

A stranger on the platform told me about a village outside of Nikko- he called it peaceful and quiet. Said it was the kind of place where 'time forgets about you'. Sounds like that is exactly what I want- to be forgotten.

The train winds through mountains so green they almost look fake. Trees blur past like static. I had earbuds shoved in my ears, a hood covering my head and sunglasses so strangers won't ask why I am crying.

When I finally step off, the station is barely more than a bench and a vending machine. I breathe in silence like medicine.

The lodge is old, wood-framed, smells like steam and pine. The owner is a woman named Yui who speaks no English but offers tea and the softest futon I have ever touched. She doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t press.

I pay for everything in cash. Leave my phone on airplane mode. No Instagram or twitter. For all I know the public still believes I am in LA living my best life.

Out here, there are no mirrors. No headlines. Just mist and mountains.

Some nights I dream of my son’s laugh—those bubbling giggles when he tried to grab my hair. Other nights, I dream of nothing at all, which hurts more.

It sits in my chest like ice.

—

present time- catalina's lodge - nikko, tochigi - 8:56 am

Did I want to tell Carlos? No. Did I realize he would come looking for me sooner or later anyways? Yes. I needed him more than I realized. The more I cry, the louder the silence gets, the more that knife in my stomach twists even more. I knew that it wasn't long before the press took note of my absence and I wanted to get ahold of Carlos before those rumors did. That's what happens when you have shitty friends who will sell you out for a single dime.

I wasted seven years of my life for a man who just wanted to see me fail, wanted to see me suffer so badly. I made him. I gave him his career. I gave him our child. Any request was instantly granted. And this is what I get? Taking my only piece of joy away from me. I bet you are wondering...Cat...did you see this coming? And the simple answer is no...he never gave any clues to being miserable in this relationship...if anything I was the one who was miserable. However, that is a story for another time.

I haven't done much since arriving here. I sit outside, I cry, I occasionally scroll through my camera roll and listen to my son's laugh. Admire the way he smiles or how his eyes would light up when he looked at me. Every repeat of the video I feel myself become more pained. I haven't eaten, I vomit if I try. Yui brings me tea and snacks every morning attempting to get me to eat. She doesn't understand but she does at the same time.

I snap out of my thoughts as I hear a car pull up. A low rumble, uneven on the gravel road. It cuts through the silence like a thread being pulled taut. I feel my breath catch in my throat. It’s early. Still dark enough for the fog to cling to the edges of the pine trees outside her window. The room creaks around me, old and wooden, smelling of cedar and steam. I stand, but slowly—like my bones don’t trust it’s real. I move to the door barefoot, heart pounding loud enough to shake my core. Almost like I forget the amount of tears I have cried. That my mouth still tastes like tea I didn’t drink. That I have not slept in nearly 36 hours.

The door cracks open and my older brother is stood in front of me- eyes locked on me like I am the only thing left tethering him to the world. I expect him to say something—ask where the baby is, what happened, why I ran—but he just looks at me. And for the first time since it all broke open, I let someone see the full ruin of me.

"You came." I choked out, my voice barely audible.

Carlos doesn't speak. He steps inside and closes the door gently. He pulls me into him with no hesitation, holding me so tight and placing a kiss on the top of my head. I let myself be held. I gripped onto him like I never wanted to let go. I buried my face in his chest and began to sob.

"My baby...my boy." I yelped mid sob as I feel my feet begin to give out. Carlos catches me and helps me over to the futon- still holding me. Never letting me go.

“I know, Cat.” He murmured as he placed a kiss on the top of my head, holding me tighter.

—

I don’t know how long we sat like this— him holding me tight against his chest as if his life depended on it and me silently sobbing into his chest. I feel myself breaking more and more slowly by the minute — the kind of break that is silent and doesn’t make a sound.

When I finally pull away and sit up, my body aches. Like letting go of my safety raft in a body of deep, deep water. I don’t look at him right away— just wrap my arms around myself staring down at the floor.

He doesn’t say anything— he just waits. Then I hear him take a deep exhale.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” I say, and the words come out like an apology. I don’t know why—I didn’t do anything wrong. Except maybe I did.

“You should’ve called me sooner.” He states, not angry, just more of a disappointed tone.

I flinch. “I was ashamed, Carlos.”

There’s a pause.

“Why?”

I let out this stupid, dry laugh. “Because I let him do it. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t even know we were in a fight.”

I glance up at him, then down again, voice thinner now. “I was in LA for four days, Carlos. Just four. Meetings. A shoot. When I got back… everything was gone. The toys. The crib. His clothes. Mine. The drawers were empty. The house was clean. Too clean. Like he planned it.”

Carlos stays silent, but his jaw is tight. I see a muscle twitch in his cheek.

“He left a note,” I whisper. “Just one line. ‘I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.’ No word about my son. No ‘I am sorry.’ Nothing. Just left.”

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop the sting that creeps up again. “I didn’t know someone could hate you that quietly.”

Carlos’s voice is low and dangerous. “Where is he?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve called. Messaged. Emailed. Nothing. I even tried his parents. They won’t answer. They’re pretending I don’t exist. Like I lost custody or something, except—we were never married. There was never custody to lose.”

He mumbles various swear words in Spanish under his breath. Quiet and sharp.

Then, with a frightening amount of calm, “Alright, then I’ll find him.”

I blink up at him. “Carlos, you can’t.”

“I will.” His tone leaves no room for debate.

“You have a race in literally 3 days.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do care, Carlos.” I stated and rubbed my temples. “Your whole career—“

“This is more important.”

“You sound like Papá.” I muttered with half a smile.

He doesn’t smile back. His eyes are too full of something heavier. He looks…lethal.

“Good.”

And then, softer and almost gentle.

“You’re not alone, Cat. You never were. You didn’t lose him. We’re going to get him back. I swear to you.”

Something in my chest splinters. Not in a painful way—just in that awful, aching way that comes when someone offers you hope after you’ve already convinced yourself you don’t deserve it.

“I don’t know where to start,” I whisper. “I’ve looked everywhere. Checked his bank. Nothing. No charges. No flight. It’s like he vanished.”

Carlos leans forward, takes my hand. His grip is solid. Warm. “He didn’t vanish. People don’t vanish. They hide. And hiding leaves a trail.”

He says it like someone who’s spent a lifetime studying the details no one else sees. Racing lines. Different curves in every single track he’d ever raced. Tire degradation. Now— my ex.

I close my eyes. Let the silence settle around us again. The wind brushes the paper screens, and somewhere outside, a crow calls once, sharply.

“I was afraid if I told you, it would make it real,” I admit.

He doesn’t let go of my hand. “Mi Cariño, It’s already real. But now it’s not yours to carry alone.”

For the first time in days, I believe that might be true.

I let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, we just sit there. Two siblings in a borrowed room, far from everything we know, quietly starting to piece together a way back.

—

this will be a little mini series - probably 3 or 4 parts. i genuinely cried while writing this... i feel like it is some of my strongest writing. let me know what you all think so far!

tag : @klauslovemepls @omgsuperstarg @msliz @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 @alireads27 , @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog , @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo , @majapapaya4 @lina505 , @hc-dutch , @lost4lyrics , @angelluv16 @dilflover44

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persevereforahappyending · 6 months ago

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A Legacies Regret |1|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

You frowned as you looked down at your phone, there were a handful of unread texts to Tara that went unread. The last message she sent to you was a simple ‘I love you’ after you told her you had a late shift. She wasn’t completely ignoring you, but it was weird for Tara to not check her phone, especially since Sam, and you, to an extent, had been insistent on her responding regularly. You pocketed your phone and got back to work, you told yourself she was just studying, maybe the others came over and she got caught up hanging out with them.

You threw yourself into work for the next few hours. It was Friday night, the weekend of Halloween, the bar had been slammed since before your shift started. You had been in New York for about six months, you had quickly found a job at a bar, and Tara and her friends started school in the fall. The two of you juggled as best as you could, taking advantage when you were both off, but somehow it seemed like you saw each other less than before, even though now you were actually living together.

When your shift was finally over you clocked out and shoved your tips in your pocket. You stepped out of the bar, despite being well after midnight the city was still alive and thriving. You glanced at your phone one more time, Tara still hadn’t even opened your messages. You sighed and shoved your phone back in your pocket before making the trek back to the apartment. You sold your car when you got to the city to save on money and strictly took the subway or walked everywhere.

After half an hour you finally reached the apartment complex. You stomped up each staircase until you finally reached the top floor. As you got to the top you rested your hand on the railing and winced, you all agreed on the apartment, stairs were better than an elevator, and the top floor was the safest, but the stairs did your knee no favors. You held in a groan as you let go of the railing; despite being fully healed and the ongoing physical therapy, you accepted your knee would just never be back to a hundred percent.

You unlocked the various locks Sam installed as soon as the three of you moved in and stepped inside. You shoved your keys back in your pocket as you walked down the hall and into the living room. You heard Quinn in her room, hooking up with a guy, which was nothing new. You furrowed your brow as you looked around the room, the TV was off, and it didn’t look like anyone had been there all day.

“Tara!” you called out. You waited a second but there was no answer. You tried not to let your paranoia takeover, there were plenty of times you got home and Tara as up late studying, her headphones on, completely lost in the music.

You got an uneasy feeling as you walked down the hall to your shared room. The door was partially cracked, and you nudged it with your foot, letting it slowly swing open the rest of the way. You peeked your head in, not stepping fully into the room, when nothing happened you finally took a step in. You furrowed your brow, the bed was still made from when you left, Tara’s laptop was closed and sitting on her desk. Her backpack was sitting next to her desk chair, proving that she did in fact come home after class, but there was no sign of Tara.

You perked up when you heard the front door open. “Tara?” you called out again. It was late, but it was a Friday night, and she might have gone out with the others to get something to eat. “Tara?” you made your way back towards the living room. You paused when you didn’t see your girlfriend but Sam standing there.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked tiredly.

You cautiously stepped into the room; you had been living with Sam for about six months and had gotten pretty good at reading her moods. You and Sam were by no means best friends, probably wouldn’t even consider yourselves friends at all, but you both learned to tolerate each other. Sam’s mood was particularly grouching this night, and you didn’t think it had to do with Tara not being home.

“Did Tara mention anything about going out?” you asked. You tried to keep your tone nonchalant just in case Tara had messaged Sam and not you.

“She’s not here?” Sam shouted. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, there went your last strand of hope. “Quinn!” Sam brushed right past you without another glance. “Quinn!”

The noises from the other girl’s room quieted down and a moment later the door creaked open. Quinn came out of her room, still in the middle of pulling her shirt down. “Sorry,” she said. “Were we to loud?” she gestured back at her room.

“Have you seen Tara?”

Quinn opened and closed her mouth a few times. “She came home,” she nodded.

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes at Quinn. “Where is she?” you asked.

“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party,” Quinn said hesitantly.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I begged her not to go to that!” Sam said.

You had been there for that conversation, if one could call it that, Tara had asked, Sam had said no, and Tara had started arguing. The argument ended like it always did, you trying to play peacekeeper and Tara storming off to the bedroom. You understood why Tara wanted to go to the party, it was her first year of college and it was probably the biggest frat party going on for Halloween, but you also didn’t disagree with Sam’s decision. You and Sam both worked late, you couldn’t go to the party with Tara, and you didn’t wany anything to happen to her.

“Did she at least take her taser?” Sam asked. You could see her visibly trying not to freak out. Sam had been overprotective, to say the least, ever since last year happened. Tara hadn’t been making it easy, but you could see Sam was truly trying to give her sister the space she desired.

“I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” Quinn answered.

You let out another sigh, even before Sam went and found said taser in the bowl on the table by the door you knew Tara hadn’t taken it. Out of all the things Sam asked of her you didn’t think carrying a taser around was too much. You were living in New York, anything could happen at any point in time, that wasn’t even considering the fact that all of you had survived a Ghostface attack. You felt like Tara just didn’t want to carry the taser because Sam wanted her to, just another way of Sam attempting to control her.

“I’m going to look for Tara,” Sam called out, grabbing her keys again.

“Wait,” you called out. “I’m coming with you.” You winced as you jogged to catch up to Sam.

Sam looked down at your knee and back up at you. “Do you need to grab your brace?”

You really wanted to, you probably needed to. You tried not to wear the brace too often; you didn’t want to become reliant on it. You only wore it when you were doing more strenuous activity than usual or if your knee was being particularly bothersome. “No time,” you waved her off. It would only take a moment to put on, but you didn’t want to stop when you had no idea if Tara was alright or not.

Sam hesitated a moment but eventually nodded. You and Sam didn’t exactly have deep and meaningful conversations, but she seemed to be the only one who noticed how much pain your knee caused you. Sam had actually been the one to buy you the brace. You had worked a long shift, your knee causing you more pain than usual after moving nonstop for hours when Sam tossed you the brace while you sat on the couch, your leg propped on the coffee table to rest it a bit.

You followed behind Sam on the way to the party, trying to keep up with her as best as you could. She finally slowed down when you got in front of a large house with music blasting and people spilling out of it. The door was already wide open when you and Sam walked in. Just as the two of you entered you saw some guy holding Tara by the arm and trying to drag her upstairs, with Chad quickly trying to interfere.

Before you could get to her Tara tripped at being dragged up the stairs and Chad yanked the other guy down. The man shoved Chad away and reached for Tara again, but Sam was right there and ready to tase him. Your eyes widened at the action, but you didn’t get a chance to dwell on it for long as Tara pushed past you and stormed out of the frat house.

“Wait,” you called out, quickly following after Tara. “Wait!” you winced as you sidestepped a drunk stumbling up the sidewalk.

“Tara!” Sam called out from behind you. You glanced back to see her and the others following behind.

“Can you just stop for a second?” you tried to ask as nice as possible. Tara was still walking away from all of you at full speed and at this rate she would soon lose you.

“Will you stop!” Sam snapped.

“I can’t believe you,” Tara snapped. She didn’t stop walking away but she slowed down enough to turn and look at Sam. “You just embarrassed me in front of everyone.”

“Come on,” Sam groaned. “That guy was a creep!”

“Nothing was going to happen!” Tara stopped, spinning around to finally face her sister.

“He was trying to take advantage of you!”

“Why do you care?”

You stepped back as Tara and Sam continued to argue back and forth. You eventually tuned them out, all their arguments started to sound the same when it was a weekly occurrence. You caught bits and pieces of the argument, Tara pointing out how Sam was gone for years and now that she was back couldn’t seem to leave Tara alone, while Sam kept trying to bring up seeing a councilor. You asked Tara about talking to a professional once and were quickly shut down, after that you dropped it. As much as you thought talking to someone would help Tara you didn’t want to force her, you just hoped that when she was ready, she’d come to you.

“I’m not going to let my life be defined by three days,” Tara snapped. Something about those particular words seemed to bring your focus back to the conversation.

When you looked up though Tara was already storming off. You jogged to catch up to her despite the protest of your knee. “Hey, look, I get it,” you started when you got to Tara’s side. “But don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“You’re just as bad!” Tara whipped around, making you stop in your tracks. You tried not to flinch at her harsh tone, Tara and you disagreed on things but neither of you had ever raised your voice at each other.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stumbled over your words. Tara was drunk and this clearly wasn’t the time to try having this type of conversation, you just need to keep her calm and get back to the apartment safely. “We just worry about you.”

“Well stop!” That time you did actually flinch at her words. “What happened happened,” she gestured around. “It’s in the past!” she gestured widely with her hand. “I’m trying to move on with my life, you all need to too.”

This time when Tara turned and stormed away you didn’t rush to catch up to her. You stood there for a moment, replaying Tara’s words in your head as the others passed you, Anika giving your shoulder comforting squeeze as she went with Mindy and Chad to catch up with Tara. You watched them walk away, just glad that at least someone was close on the rest of the walk home since Tara wanted nothing to do with you and Sam at the moment.

You sulked the entire way home and up to the top floor of the apartment complex. You were the last one to arrive to the apartment, after Tara told you to back off you took your time, not wanting to put any more strain than necessary on your knee. When you got inside Chad, Mindy, Anika, and Ethan were all on the couch, while Sam was in the kitchen, and Tara was nowhere in sight.

You silently walked through the living room and towards the bathroom. You dug around the medicine cabinet and finally found a bottle of Advil. You went back to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water before making your way to yours and Tara’s room. When you got to the door you gave a small knock.

“Come in,” came a whispered response.

You quietly opened the door and slipped into the room, making sure to shut the door behind you. “You don’t have to knock,” Tara said in a much softer tone than earlier. “It’s your room too.”

You walked further into the room and sat the water and Advil on the dresser. “Wasn’t sure what I was walking into,” you admitted. You leaned your back against the dresser, but your eyes were on the floor instead of Tara.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” she said kindly. “I just…” you glanced up to see her trying to gather her thoughts but quickly dropped your eyes back to the floor. “I don’t need you and Sam both being overprotective and always hovering over everything I do.” You could hear the slight irritation in her voice but unlike earlier she was trying not to snap at you.

“I’m fine,” she insisted again. “I just want to move on.” Tara stood up from the bed and made her way closer to you. “You’ve been different since the attacks last year.” You huffed out a laugh, you weren’t sure how you couldn’t possibly different after what happened. “I just want my girlfriend back,” Tara ran her hand down your arm until it was resting atop of your own hand. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Just three days,” you whispered, still not looking up at Tara.

“What?” Tara asked, you could hear the confusion in her voice.

“Just three days,” you looked up and stared right into her eyes. “That’s what you called it.” Tara furrowed her brow. “Just three days,” you gave a little shrug. “Do you know what I went through in those three days?”

Tears filled your eyes as you stared at Tara, waiting for her to answer you. She never did though, Tara remained silent, she didn’t need to answer you though, you knew she knew the answer to that question. “Within three days,” you continued. “My girlfriend was attacked.” This time it was Tara’s turn to drop her eyes to the floor. “I wasn’t there,” you shook your head. “I wasn’t there while the love of my life was lying there dying,” your voice cracked.

“Now, I get to spend the rest of my life hating myself for not being there,” you continued. “Every time I’m not with you, I worry about what could happen when I’m not there again.” Tara finally glanced up at you again. “Like tonight,” your voice got louder than intended, making Tara flinch ever so slightly. “I was at work, just like year,” you gestured, it wasn’t until this moment that you realized how similarly everything felt to last year. “When I got home, you weren’t here,” your voice almost cracked again. “And I got to run off with Sam to a frat party, only to see you being dragged up the stairs by some douchebag,” your voice got louder when you mentioned the guy from the party. “Once again, a reminder of what can happen when I’m not there,” you shook your head and let out a humorless chuckle.

You looked up at the ceiling as you tried to calm yourself down, willing the tears in your eyes to not fall. “I was also accused of murder last year,” you said without much emotion in your voice. “Accused of hurting you,” your voice cracked again at just the idea of someone thinking you’d ever hurt Tara. “By your friends. The only good thing to happen last year was that you didn’t believe them.” You looked back into Tara’s eyes again. “You never wavered on me.” You could see the love in Tara’s own tear-filled eyes as she clearly listened to every word. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” you whispered. “That on top of spending a year being told by your friends I wasn’t good enough for you and your sister coming back and instantly saying the same thing, is that every single one of them jumped on the idea of thinking I was the potential killer.”

You tried not to let it bother you at the time and even after, Tara had believed you and that was all that really mattered. No one ever apologized for accusing you though, even after it was revealed Amber was the one who was a psycho killer, not a single one of the others apologized to you. You didn’t expect an apology from Sam, you would have been more concerned if she did apologize actually. Chad and Mindy didn’t bother either though, you still weren’t close with them, though they had been a little nice to you since everything happened.

“Then on top of everything else,” you whispered. “Within those same three days, I learned who my parents were,” your voice cracked. “I spent my whole life thinking I was unloved, just tossed away like trash,” you gestured with your hand.

“Turns out, I’m the kid of two legacies,” you let out a humorless chuckle. “And my mom abandoned me because she chose her carer over me and my…” you trailed off as you choked on your words.

You cleared your throat and tried to distance any emotion you may have felt from what you were trying to say. “He was the nicest, most loving man there was, who would have done everything he could to be a good father, but he never even knew I existed,” your voice cracked despite your best efforts. “And when he found out.” Your eyes got distant as you remembered back to that day. “He never even got the chance to know me,” you whispered. “Because I pushed him away,” a single tear finally fell from your eyes. “Then he died.” You quickly wiped the tear away. “His last act was saving my life and then he died.”

Before Tara could say anything, you pushed yourself off the dresser and wiped the rest of the tears in your eyes as you walked around to your side of the bed. You grabbed your pillow and looked down, quietly debating if you needed to grab anything else. You shook your head and tucked the pillow under your arm then made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Tara asked, gently reaching for your arm before you could make it out of the room.

You sighed and turned to face Tara again. “I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. You didn’t wait for her to try apologizing or to talk you out of it, you simply turned on your heel and left the room without another word.

When you got back out to the living room you saw that, thankfully, everyone was gone, having gone home for the night. You dropped your pillow on the side of the couch you wanted to lay on then sat down. This would be the first night you didn’t sleep next to Tara since the attacks, you didn’t want this, but you felt it was needed. Tara wanted space and after tonight you needed time to clear your head, it was better this way.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I will be.” You truly believed that, you knew in your heart that you would be fine, that you and Tara would figure this out, the two of you just needed a small amount of distance, at least for a night to really think about everything. “Are you okay?” you looked over at Sam, suddenly remembering the look she had on her face when entering the apartment earlier.

Sam let out a humorless chuckle and took a seat at the dining table, that’s when you knew it wouldn’t be good. “I got fired.”

“From the diner?” Sam nodded and dropped her head in her hands. In the six months since all of you had gotten to New York Sam had been through several jobs; she was a decent employee it seemed, but something always came up that led to them letting her go.

“We’re looking for another bartender,” you offered. “If you’re interested.”

“You’re dating my little sister,” Sam said. “We live together and knowing I’m not your biggest fan, you seriously think working together is a good idea?”

You shrugged, Sam did sort of have a point. “The money is good.” That wasn’t going to stop from suggesting the idea though. “Besides, we’ll probably be on rotating days, except for when we’re busy,” you added. “We might actually see less of each other.”

Sam smiled at that, seeming to like the idea a little more. “Thanks,” she mumbled as she got up from the dining table and made her way to her own room.

You smiled to yourself then hit the light for the living room. You settled back down on the couch, this time stretching out to take up the whole area. You pulled the blanket down off the back of the couch and wrapped it around yourself. You laid your head back down against your pillow and silently hoped for a rare non-restless sleep as you closed your eyes. You tried not to think about anything that happened earlier and just focused on falling asleep.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #a legacies regret

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jamingbenn · 6 months ago

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year in review - hockey rpf on ao3

hello!! the annual ao3 year in review had some friends and i thinking - wouldn't it be cool if we had a hockey rpf specific version of that. so i went ahead and collated the data below!!

i start with a broad overview, then dive deeper into the 3 most popular ships this year (with one bonus!)

if any images appear blurry, click on them to expand and they should become clear!

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before we jump in, some key things to highlight: - CREDIT TO: the webscraping part of my code heavily utilized the ao3 wrapped google colab code, as lovingly created by @kyucultures on twitter, as the main skeleton. i tweaked a couple of things but having it as a reference saved me a LOT of time and effort as a first time web scraper!!! thank you stranger <3 - please do NOT, under ANY circumstances, share any part of this collation on any other website. please do not screenshot or repost to twitter, tiktok, or any other public social platform. thank u!!! T_T - but do feel free to send requests to my inbox! if you want more info on a specific ship, tag, or you have a cool idea or wanna see a correlation between two variables, reach out and i should be able to take a look. if you want to take a deeper dive into a specific trope not mentioned here/chapter count/word counts/fic tags/ship tags/ratings/etc, shoot me an ask!

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with that all said and done... let's dive into hockey_rpf_2024_wrapped_insanity.ipynb

BIG PICTURE OVERVIEW

i scraped a total of 4266 fanfics that dated themselves as published or finished in the year 2024. of these 4000 odd fanfics, the most popular ships were:

Note: "Minor or Background Relationship(s)" clocked in at #9 with 91 fics, but I removed it as it was always a secondary tag and added no information to the chart. I did not discern between primary ship and secondary ship(s) either!

breaking down the 5 most popular ships over the course of the year, we see:

super interesting to see that HUGE jump for mattdrai in june/july for the stanley cup final. the general lull in the offseason is cool to see as well.

as for the most popular tags in all 2024 hockey rpf fic...

weee like our fluff. and our established relationships. and a little H/C never hurt no one.

i got curious here about which AUs were the most popular, so i filtered down for that. note that i only regex'd for tags that specifically start with "Alternate Universe - ", so A/B/O and some other stuff won't appear here!

idk it was cool to me.

also, here's a quick breakdown of the ratings % for works this year:

and as for the word counts, i pulled up a box plot of the top 20 most popular ships to see how the fic length distribution differed amongst ships:

mattdrai-ers you have some DEDICATION omg. respect

now for the ship by ship break down!!

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#1 MATTDRAI

most popular ship this year. peaked in june/july with the scf. so what do u people like to write about?

fun fun fun. i love that the scf is tagged there like yes actually she is also a main character

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#2 SIDGENO

(my babies) top tags for this ship are:

folks, we are a/b/o fiends and we cannot lie. thank you to all the selfless authors for feeding us good a/b/o fic this year. i hope to join your ranks soon.

(also: MPREG. omega sidney crosby. alpha geno. listen, the people have spoken, and like, i am listening.)

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#3 NICOJACK

top tags!!

it seems nice and cozy over there... room for one more?

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BONUS: JDTZ.

i wasnt gonna plot this but @marcandreyuri asked me if i could take a look and the results are so compelling i must include it. are yall ok. do u need a hug

top tags being h/c, angst, angst, TRADES, pining, open endings... T_T katie said its a "torture vortex" and i must concurr

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BONUS BONUS: ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA

as an a/b/o enthusiast myself i got curious as to what the most popular ships were within that tag. if you want me to take a look about this for any other tag lmk, but for a/b/o, as expected, SID GENO ON TOP BABY!:

thats all for now!!! if you have anything else you are interested in seeing the data for, send me an ask and i'll see if i can get it to ya!

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holdinggrudges · 8 months ago

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what's my flavor? - sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball. @cafekitsune for dividers <3

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store.

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine.

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it.

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy.

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance.

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score.

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where.

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?”

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.”

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.”

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?”

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over.

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.”

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.”

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow.

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you.

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless.

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month.

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant.

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.”

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.”

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.”

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious.

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library.

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.”

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.”

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time.

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too.

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up. He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?”

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense.

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly.

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.”

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.”

“I’ll text you,” he agrees.

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life.

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags.

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut.

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before.

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response.

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway.

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing.

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too.

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised.

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car.

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers.

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is.

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage.

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door.

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?”

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?”

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?”

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out.

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.”

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further.

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that.

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?”

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help.

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.”

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?”

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?”

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before.

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again.

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?”

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.”

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?”

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.”

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?”

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.”

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.”

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.”

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?”

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.”

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.”

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door.

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit.

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?”

You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general.

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight.

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately.

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him.

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.”

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.”

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw.

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.”

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that.

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.”

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.”

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.”

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.”��

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss.

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing.

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.”

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.”

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that.

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are.

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.”

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry.

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up.

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips.

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.”

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you.

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.”

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?”

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.”

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?”

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.”

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t.

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond.

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed.

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw.

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.”

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought.

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now.

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his.

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease.

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there.

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that.

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?”

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated.

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down.

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.”

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again.

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?”

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.”

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go.

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.”

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.”

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory.

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.”

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm.

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?”

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already.

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?”

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…”

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?”

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.”

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

#sammy !!#grudges writes ;#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #vampire smut #sam munchester love of my life #smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #alternate universe #vampires

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vxnuslogy · 1 year ago

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— a reason. ft aventurine

— warnings: slight cursing and violence and spoilers for the new hsr quest

— author's note: this is very long and very much a giant word vomit. first work in hsr is aventurine, i fear favoritism is real.

‘everything happens for a reason.’

aventurine has never felt so sick and tired of that phrase. something about it makes his fists clench from beneath the table and stomach flip and twist uncomfortably from within.

if everything happens for a reason, then what was the reason behind his clan’s massacre? what was the reason for the stirring in his guts whenever he looked in the mirror? what was the reason behind all of his fortune now turned to misfortune?

aventurine hated not knowing the reason.

“and this pretty thing,” jade motioned towards you by her side. standing motionless, back straight and all. “is [name]. be sure to play nice, aventurine.”

what was the reason behind your new recruitment? better yet, why were you placed as his new assistant? the last time aventurine checked, he was doing perfectly fine. steadily climbing up his rank with his risky gambles and bargaining skills. he couldn't wrap his head around it so he just sighed and accepted it.

“thank you for always looking after me, jade.” his voice carried evident sarcasm but the woman only smiled and pushed you towards his direction. he had to physically stop himself from recoiling from the action and gave you a smile.

“it's a pleasure to meet you, [name].” he held his hand out for you to take. you were hesitating, aventurine noticed. but after a few seconds you slowly slid your hand into his and gave it a firm shake. “the pleasure is all mine, mr. aventurine.”

the blonde man held onto your hand for a moment longer before slipping it away and tucking it behind his back. he surveyed your form making you want to squirm under such a gaze, and he noticed.

“let's be good friends.”

—

working with aventurine was strange, not that you didn't expect it. you spent the past six months running around the IPC from one office to another carrying mountains of papers and constantly picking up calls from the communication device in your ear. other times, you'll be out and about trailing aventurine like a lost duckling when you need to accompany him to missions that require him to be physically present.

honestly, working for the stoneheart will eventually give you an early death from a heart attack. not only is his risky gambling habits very concerning, his way of speaking wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea. more often than not you’re needed to play as a peacemaker, the middle ground of negotiations to prevent any physical fights from starting.

but it wasn't as bad as you'd assume. you clock in around 9 in the morning and clock out at 5 in the afternoon. sometimes if certain tasks require you for overtime, you'll clock out at around 8 or 9 at night max. all the work aventurine assigns to you aren't all that difficult to handle as well. just simple reports that need to be proofread so he won't have to read over them multiple times, scheduling interviews, picking up calls and informing him of his new missions, and if the situation calls for it, you play as a spy to gather information.

overall aventurine was a good boss.

today was like any other tuesday morning. you clock in just before 9, get your coffee and another cup for your boss, pick up the last reports from the strategic investment department, and then make your way into aventurine’s office to brief him on his schedule.

his office was on the fancier ends, no surprise there as he was one of the ten stonehearts. your shoes clicking when they met the marbled floors, your eyes skimmed through the reports, trying to guess which proposal will be approved or disapproved. when you reached a familiar door, you fixed your hair and readjusted the insignia pinned to your vest. an aventurine stone, just like your boss.

you knock thrice -short, short and long- before you hear a muffled voice tell you to come in.

“good morning, mr. aventurine.” you greet with a slight bow as normal. “as punctual as ever, [name].” raising your head you nod towards topaz’s direction in acknowledgment before making your way to his desk. “here are all the reports from the last mission. i’ve read through all of them and made sure everything is in order.” placing the papers on the table, he dropped the ones in his current hand before taking the new ones, all the while, you place down his coffee which he gladly took.

“you aren't overworking them, have you, aventurine?” topaz inquired, crossing both her arms over her chest. “what kind of boss do you take me for friend? a bad one? i can assure you my assistant is in good hands.” the blonde man chipped in, his fingers flipping from one page to another as you busied yourself trying to organize the scattered reports on his table. feeling topaz's gaze, you give her a slight smile and nod, confirming that aventurine is in fact, was a good boss.

she just sighed and shook her head. motioning for you to come over, you look to aventurine who gave you a nod in turn. you walked towards topaz -feeling the searing stare of aventurine burn through the back of your head- as she took out a flash drive and handed it to you.

“this is the recording of the last meeting in regards to the mission you're tasked with. since you were still in pier port, we started without you.”

“how cruel of you, to start such an important meeting without even waiting for me.”

ah yes, the pier port incident. you smiled wearily as your shoulder slumped when you remembered what happened. you shake your head in amusement of the memory.

“thank you topaz,” you break the silence, like you always do. “i’ll be sure to look over it today.” she smiled at you in appreciation before turning her back on you and waving goodbye.

“well, that was all i came for. catch you two later.”

once the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you took it as a sign to turn back to your boss who was already looking at you.

“is something the matter, sir?” you ask. he took off his glasses with a hum and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. “be sure to give me a summarized report of the meeting before you go home.” you nod and take a seat on the couch in his office and boot up the laptop on the coffee table. you've always wondered when it suddenly appeared in his office, you were 98% sure it wasn't there when you first started working but aventurine always said that's it been there the entire time.

you shake the thought out of your mind and shift into work mode. hours seem to pass by in the blink of an eye before you heard aventurine call out to you. “i’m sorry mr. aventurine, i'm afraid i didn't hear you.” you heard him sigh and repeat his question. “i said, why did you join the IPC? actually, no, that's not what i want to know.”

when you looked up from the laptop in front of you, your boss had taken a seat across from you. you felt your heart thumping in nervousness.

“what exactly did you do to pique jade’s interest?”

frozen. you felt frozen on your spot. fingers stopping midway from pressing onto the keys. those beautiful eyes you've slowly grown accustomed to seeing unfiltered from his glasses, they make your heart and pulse beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

“i come from a well-off family.” you start, suddenly feeling conscious of your background. “my parents have worked closely with the stonehearts, i suppose miss jade wanted to continue the diplomatic relationship between my family and the IPC.”

“is that the reason why you're here now?”

you simply nod even though you weren't so sure if that really was the reason.

“let me ask you another question.”

letting out a startled noise when the laptop in your lap suddenly close with a gloved hand sitting on top of it, you stare at aventurine's purple eyes that had rings of teal, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help but get lost in them. he took the laptop from your grasp and set it on the coffee table as he leaned both his arms on his legs.

“do you like working under me?”

the question caught you off guard and it showed with how the corner of aventurine’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. hiding behind a closed fist and clearing your throat, you pray that your voice wouldn't waver as you answer.

“i do.” you peaked towards his directions and he didn't seem satisfied with your answer so you list out all the reasons why you like working with him. “despite your… questionable habits, i’ve come to grow used to them as time goes on.” a fond smile made its way to your lips when you dug around your mind trying to find your memories that had aventurine in them, only to realize that he was in all of them.

“i’ve come to enjoy all your little shenanigans in missions.”

“i'll have you know, calling your boss’ plans “shenanigans” could lead to your bonus being cut by a few percent.” he huffed like a child as he decided to just sit back and cross his arms over his chest and raise his chin at you. you chuckle at the action and continue.

“ever since i was a child, i have always wanted to travel the cosmos. but since i’m the only child to my mother and father, my childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood is centered around business and trade. going out on missions with you to different planets, they heal that little part of me that wished to travel.”

“but sometimes, i truly believe that you want me to die from a heart attack.” you hear him snicker from under his breath as he fixes the watch on his wrist. “i know that as a gambler taking risks is just a part of it but aeons, do they scare me to death sometimes.”

“if i knew you cared about me so much, maybe i would tone it down a bit!” there was a playful undertone to his voice as he talked to you. you let out a laugh and shake your head. “no offense sir, but i sincerely doubt that.”

“you wouldn't be the boss i've grown accustomed to if you didn't do your risky gambles.”

something flickered in aventurine's eyes, you were sure of it. but before you could find out what it was he suddenly stood up, putting on his usual glasses and giving you a closed eyed smile.

“well, that was all what i wanted to ask you.” you wanted to ask something in return, but you never had the chance to even get a word out when he was already halfway out the door. “be sure to finish that summary before the day ends. leave it at my desk as usual.”

and just like that, the office door clicked shut.

—

“if i told you the reason, that'd be the same as revealing a trade secret.”

aventurine remembered jade's word. how could he not when they repeated in his mind like a broken record.

after he left his office, it felt like he suddenly went back in time. it just had been roughly a month after you were given the position as his assistant and aventurine wasted no moment at the end of that friday afternoon to dash in jade's office and ask her the question: why were you his assistant.

aventurine scoffed at jade's response while she only smiled. clicking his tongue in annoyance as the woman led him in circles when he kept asking. what was the reason? was it that hard to answer?

the next few days weren't necessarily the best. he was like a walking ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any second. everyone in the IPC kept their distance from him -not like they didn't keep their distance to begin with, some started whispering among the hallways about his potential termination after a very big gamble he almost, almost, lost. what ticked him off the most, was you.

he felt so frustrated at you because why were you so damn perceptive. those past few days, the papers that were messily and hastily thrown on the giant table in his office were suddenly organized into neat piles, all held together with different colored paperclips and a sticky note of when each pile was due to be submitted. how every morning you wouldn't fail to knock thrice at his door -short, short and long- at exactly 3 minutes before 9 in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands. or the times where you would take one good look at him and start lighting up the candles in his office that you started buying for him because you noticed he'd be slightly less stressed when the room didn't smell like fear and insecurity.

what he hated the most was even after his little temper tantrum the past few days began to subdue, you still continued your almost doting actions towards him.

when did he start anticipating your methodical knocks 3 minutes before 9? when did he suddenly grow disappointed whenever someone knocked on his door and it wasn't you? topaz had suddenly grown confused when he suddenly came into the meeting room with a cup of coffee in his hand and when she asked about it he would simply say, “well, my darling assistant bought it for me!”. the multiple scented candles in his office that burned too quickly so at the end of every month he'd have you go out and buy some more.

when did he start using his left hand -the hand he left bare from rings, the same hand that shook in fear of losing- to guide the small of your back away from the crowd whenever you would accompany him to missions?

when did he start taking off the glasses that hid the eyes he wanted to sell to someone else?

it was so confusing yet so simple at the same time. aventurine had grown fond of his little assistant. he has grown fond of you. and that was all there is to it. after all, why would he go out of his way to get that customized brooch that you wear every single day when you come to work if he hadn't. how his chest would swell with pride whenever you spoke with higher positioned officers in the IPC and how they would avert their gaze because of the pin on your vest.

and he knows that you know of his sudden change in demeanor. you just never say a word for his sake. how he went from being a distant and acquainted boss to a friend. an actual friend. and that was supposed to be it. he did say in your first meeting that you should be good friends, but how was he supposed to keep his words after the little stunt you pulled at pier port?

it was a simple mission, negotiate and get the upper hand, nothing more and certainly nothing less. like any other mission, he was accompanied by you and some other people under the IPC. everything was going smoothly until one of them just had to open their mouth and talk shit about his already dreadful past just because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. he truly has grown a bit too comfortable with you around, and he didn't like it.

“what's a sigonian scum like you doing in the IPC? why don't you crawl back into the hole you came from?”

he just sighed. shaking his head, hiding his left hand behind his back, shielding it away from everyone's gaze as it shook with anger, disgust, and the tantalizing question of why.

why did he have to go through this?

and then you did something out of the ordinary.

the sweet assistant of aventurine suddenly pulled out the gun situated on your hip and pointed it directly to the man’s forehead, a deathly glimmer shining in your eyes as your index threateningly ghosted over the trigger.

“if you do not take back what you said just now, i won't hesitate to put a bullet or two in that empty skull of yours.”

then you started walking, and he started backing up. you didn't stop until the man was standing on the edge of the port, one simple push and he'd be drowned in the vast icy oceans. that is, if he wasn't already drowning in the fury of your eyes.

aventurine felt his body move in instinct. his left hand holding your wrist and slowly putting it down at your side. he gave a half assed apology about your behavior and ushered you to your original destination. this time, he kept his hand on your back, specifically near the gun on your hips to make sure you didn't point it at someone else.

“do they always speak to you that way?” you ask barely above whisper. eyes strained one the road you were walking one while his bore into your very being. “i’ve grown used to it. be sure to not point that gun of yours to any potential partners, m’kay?” to prove his point, he tapped the gun on your hips with his finger and you just sighed. a simple yes stumbling past your lips before being enveloped by silence.

aventurine was sure. he was very, very, sure that was the last nail in the coffin, and the answer to the question he's been asking.

the entire day, you stuck by his side. glued to the fucking hip and no one dared to utter a single word about him. the meeting went smoothly and when everyone was preparing to go home, he called you over and said:

“that stunt you pulled earlier, stays between us, alright, friend?”

and you simply nod in understanding.

you carry your bags onto the ship to take you back home only to be taken aback when aventurine comes to steal it away from your hands. “take it as thanks for earlier.” he remembered that look of shock before it turned into something else -what it was he didn't know because you turned away before he could even fathom what of it made his stomach do flips.

even when he came to drop off your things at your personal room, he found himself lingering by the door. watching you unpack your things as he stood idly. you would eventually turn to him and ask if he needed anything more, and out of curiosity he asked: “why did you point your gun at that man?” he will never forget the look of puzzlement on your face when he asked.

“because he said something unpleasant to you. as your assistant, i can't allow others to simply trample on your name.”

he spent the night staring up at the ceiling while laying on his bed. your words mingling in with jade's in his mind, trying to fit the two like puzzle pieces to ease the racing of his heart and uneasiness of his mind. he didn't like assuming things. a conjecture such as this would cost him too much, but tonight he indulged himself in the thought.

picking up his phone and messaging jade, he laid his forearm over his eyes and sighed.

“this room smells horrible…” he muttered. the strong scent of chlorine made his mind spin. making him miss the scented candles you had slowly but surely placed inside his office. he'd grown so fond of them that he'd bought some of his own to place around his home. “ah… i think i'm screwed.”

—

it has been approximately 3 system hours since you arrived in penacony, and roughly a few system hours before aventurine's eventual demise.

topaz had just finished speaking with the trailblazer and their companions. when they had left you stood next to her and stared at the giant prison turned hotel.

“you… don't seem too worried.” topaz said, you felt her gaze but you didn't turn to look at her, instead you just gazed into nothing. “it would be a lie if i said i wasn't worried.” you were most definitely worried, terrified even. no matter how many times aventurine does his high risk gambles, you will never get used to it, not when it causes ghostly hands to squeeze at your heart at the sheer thought of him losing. the thought of losing him.

“but i trust miss jade's judgment. i trust aventurine.”

roughly a day before his departure to penacony, curiosity got the best of you and you stuck around the meeting room in secret when aventurine stayed behind.

“what can i do for you, aventurine?” jade's voice slightly echoed in the empty room. your hands slightly shook in fear of being caught, but you were just so curious about what has been going on with your boss that you couldn't fight the urge to eavesdrop a bit. “oh nothing much. i take it you received my message?” you assumed the woman nodded because aventurine continued. “i must admit, your little plan worked. but is it really necessary?”

jade stood up from her seat, her heels clicked on the marble floor and aventurine followed her until they were by the door.

“well, it's better to stay safe than sorry. and besides, this doesn't count as a complaint, right?”

you heard him chuckle. somehow, even though you hid behind a pillar you felt his stare bore into your being. you could almost imagine those purple eyes that had rings of teal in them that made you weak in the knees.

“no, not necessarily. i could never consider it as a complaint.” he took a moment before asking another question. “but i want to hear it from you, friend. why did you assign [name] as my assistant?”

“it's rather simple really,” jade replied. “you need a reason to leave penacony alive, no? i simply made it easier for you.”

you? the reason for aventurine's will to live? it seemed rather silly. how you, a simple assistant, be so much of importance to someone like aventurine, but with how topaz came to hold the hand that gripped the brooch he had given you, you thought otherwise.

this half a year you've been working with him, you like to think that you've gotten to know him very well.

how when you stood beside him as he sat himself in another gamble, he would always lay his left hand on his lap, fingers curled into fists so tight you were afraid his palms were bleeding.

how he always hid his “weaker” hand behind his back in dire situations to hide his fear.

or when he would always take off his glasses in his office whenever you were there. and that laptop you were 98% sure wasn't there when you started working? aventurine apparently got it specifically for you so you could work in his office.

but what you were most sure of was:

“aventurine doesn't make deals he knows he won't benefit from. he'll win, he always does. he'll come back, i know it.”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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yoonbroom · 2 years ago

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SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

a list of seventeen fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 also if there wasn't a summary on the fic I just included a little paragraph or the request! now onto the recs ↓

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

oneshot, fluff, college au, frat au

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

FRACTURED PARENTING, PT.2 - @berriesandjunnie

oneshot angst, fluff, idol au, separated parents au, enemies to lovers

parenting can be an emotional rollercoaster when you’re far from divorced and the flames are far from dying.

YOON JEONGHAN

UNTITLED - @userjuyo

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so <;3"

UNTITLED - @wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

“what if crabs think that fish can fly?” your question is whispered into the darkness of your bedroom — you gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully, while jeonghan curls up beside you.

OF RAINY NIGHTS AND ROSES - @chenfleur

oneshot, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

In the heat of the moment, Jeonghan grows careless with his words. Now, he has to bear the weight of saying things he didn't mean.

DAISIES - @viastro

oneshot, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which jeonghan is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart.

JOSHUA HONG

BEST FRIENDS BROTHER - @chocosvt

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, best friends brother

joshua happens to be your best friend’s older brother. he’s pretty, and he’s got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

IT TAKES TWO - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, idol au, parent au, est relationship

a family is a little scary when your partner has over millions of fans.

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"it feels like the sky has only just welcomed the sun when joshua tries to get up to leave."

WEN JUNHUI

HEAVEN COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, angst, idol au

i just couldn’t stand to see you leaving but heaven couldn’t wait for you.

HAPPY ENDING - @junkissed

one shot, angst, fluff, marriage, est relationship

a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

KWON SOONYOUNG

LET ME TRY AGAIN - @papermatisse

oneshot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, parent au

Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

(UN)TRADITIONAL - @neonun-au

oneshot, fluff, wedding au, est relationship

"The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. "

VOWELS AND VERACITY - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, teacher au, single parent

after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

BE SWEET - @heartkyeom

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, royalty, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance. “That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth. You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

JEON WONWOO

FOR THE BOOKS - @trblsvt

oneshot, fluff, teacher au, est relationship

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

HOW TO FALL - @because-of-a-friend

oneshot, fluff, angst, idol au

"hi!! <3 i love ur acc and i was wondering if you'd be able to write an imagine where you're besties with joshua and he invites you to meet the rest of seventeen for the first time and you instantly fall for wonwoo? maybe some angst but overall fluff? thank you!! no rush!! i love your work!!!"

UNTITLED - @/97-liners

oneshot, fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, childhood friends

"a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together."

SCANDAL, PT.2, PT.3, PT.4- @fantasyescapes17

series, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, regency au

this is part of an extensive series that includes other members! you can check it out ⤳ here

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

MEET CUTE OF THE CENTURY - @lovelyhan

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

MARRIAGE - @yikesmary

drabble, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE - @/yikesmary

oneshot, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.

LEE JIHOON

GUITAR STRING - @leejungchans

oneshot, fluff, angst, royalty au

"“Take me away.” Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze."

WE'LL BE OK - @atinykidult

drabble, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” for hurt!Jihoon

LIVE - @wondernus

oneshot, fluff, idol au, est relationship

having just finished composing a song a few hours ago, jihoon starts a live on his phone to sing to those who are feeling a little lonely at night. little does he know, your sleeping figure could be seen in the corner of his little livestream, causing his fans to go crazy.

MWHA - @cheolism

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

IM DATING WOOZI - @jihoonotes

oneshot, fluff, smau, est relationship, idol au

y/n is in a public relationship w/ woozi of SVTZ and decides to make a twitter acc to support jihoon, but SVTZ fans seem to think they're delusional.

JIHOON'S PUPPY - @rubyreduji

oneshot, angst, fluff, college au

jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

HEARTSTRINGS - @wavelikewhat

oneshot, fluff, strangers to lovers, idol au

You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer.

LEE SEOKMIN

WARM ME UP ! - @ponkwan

drabble, fluff, est relationship

the one where you’re on your third date with seokmin.

KIM MNGYU

HOT OR COLD? - @jjuniehao

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS - @babyleostuff

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

a sunny date spent with your precious boyfriend

XU MINGHAO

THE LETTER - @toruro

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, brothers best friend, childhood friends to lovers, idol au

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE - @sungbeam

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends, est relationship

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

CHWE VERNON

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE - @suhnshinehaos

series, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, smau

the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

“vernon, we need to talk.”

OR, WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE ME? - @thepixelelf

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au, soulmate au

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?

LEE CHAN

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, parent au, idol au

no matter what stage in life you’re at, or after all these years, you can count on his hyungs to still treat him the same.

08:23 AM - @wheeboo

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

in which chan is late to dance practice.

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

#fic lists📃#seventeen fic recs #svt recs #seventeen fics #seventeen x reader #svt angst #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen idol au #svt fanfic #seventeen dad au #seventeen smau #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen parent au #seventeen recs

3K notes · View notes

lostbookmark · 18 days ago

Text

MNDI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence, mention of sex work

A/N: Surprise, I figured out chapter 14, so here you guys go!! Chapter 14 might be late due to my “vacation” and losing some days to fully work on it, but I'm feeling good about it.

Elly held your hand tightly as the clock on the scoreboard quickly ran down. The score was close. Too close. 45-42 Bangtan Ravens were only up by three points, and Yoongi looked stressed down on the court. He and Jungkook were yelling…..well, you don't know what they were yelling, but they were yelling and pointing everywhere as the boys ran all over. Time outs were being called, and players were being switched out. Frustration even showed on the young player's faces. It was all intense and you didn't like it.

Your eyes go back to the clock, and your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest as it finally hits the single digits. 9….8…Nicky has the ball, but you don't think he was anywhere close to their side of the court, and you don't see any open players for him to pass the ball to. 7…6… He finally breaks free and makes a run for the opposite of the gym. 5….4…3… jumping, he shoots…2…1….. The ball hit the rim of the basket, effectively bouncing off.

He misses.

The buzzer sounds throughout the gymnasium.

Bangtan Ravens wins 45 - 42

6-0 undefeated.

As your side of the gym cheers and the confetti gets thrown in the air, you watch as your nephew hangs his head in defeat. Your heart breaks as you watch his teammates celebrate their win, but he looks like he let them down. Coach Jeon gives his shoulder a little shake and says something in his ear, to which he nods his head.

“That was close,” your mom says, looking up at you from one bench lower like always. “You need to give him a pep talk.”

“But they won,” you say. “I don't know why he's upset.”

“They didn't win by much, and that's the problem,” Chris says, leaning over his fiancée to look at you.

“But they still won,” you say again.

“Doesn't matter,” your mom, dad, and brother all say.

“They almost lost, and that's what he's going to focus on,” your dad explains.

You and Elly look at one another, and she gives you a tight smile. You don't think she understands either.

Fuck this sport!

Maybe you can talk him into joining the choir or maybe some dance class.

Maybe he will be good at tap.

“Food's here,” Yoongi says, bringing in a couple of paper bags into the kitchen and setting them on the counter.

“Did you grab the cash on the table for the tip?” You ask, grabbing three plates out of the cupboards.

“Mmhmm,” Yoongi confirms and buries his face into your neck, pressing his lips into the smooth skin. “If you're lucky, I might have a tip for you too.”

Cackling, you pull away from, only to grab the front of his sweatshirt to pull him to you.

“Was that a sex joke?” You question, laughing. You watch his face turn pink before hiding it in your neck once again. “Don't hide. I've been waiting for this moment.”

“You act like I never touch you,” he says, pulling away from your warmth.

“Touch me, yes. Your fingers are quite magical,” you say and look over his shoulder. “But you've only fucked me twice.”

“I told you…” he starts.

“And I told you,” you say, cutting him off. “He sleeps like a rock. That kid does not wake up. Unless you're more worried about you making too much noise. I believe it was you that was a Chatty Cathy last time.” He scoffs and crosses his arms. “It's fine. I know my skill set is pretty high. It's fine if you can't keep up.”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh, grabbing you and lightly digging his fingers into your sides, causing you to screech in laughter. Dropping onto your knees down onto the kitchen floor, he follows after you, hovering over your back, not letting up. You were so focused on trying not to pee your pants that you don't see Nicky in the entryway of the kitchen until he clears his throat. Both you and Yoongi freeze and look up at the teenager who doesn't seem amused as he stares at the two of you acting like fools on the floor.

“Hey,” you say, scrambling to get off the floor and clearing your own throat. “The food is here. I'm sure you're hungry, right?”

“Is everything okay,” Yoongi asks, looking at your nephew, who was still silent and watching the two of you.

“I let you down,” he says, and a look of confusion crosses Yoongi's features at his words.

“What do you mean?” He questions. “You didn't let me down.”

“I should have played harder,” Nicky tells him. “I did. I let you down today, and the whole team probably knows it.”

“Let's go outside and talk,” Yoongi suggests. Nicky nods and walks out the kitchen door as your boyfriend turns to you. “I got him. Just give us a couple of minutes.”

You nod your head and watch him leave the house, shutting the door as he goes. Biting your lip, you tap your foot and quickly make your way to the small laundry room at the back of the house. Ducking down, you make your way over to the window and quietly as possible. You crack open the window. Peeking over the edge, you watch as they sit on an old wooden bench you had found at a garage sale when you first moved in.

“What's going on?” Yoongi asks from where he sat next to Nicky.

“I missed that last shot,” he confesses, with a bouncing leg. “I thought for sure that I could make it, and I didn't. I wasn't good enough. I was right there, and I missed it.”

“You're not going to hit every shot,” Yoongi tells him, making the young boy hang his head with disappointment. “But that doesn't mean you're not good enough. Why do you think Coach Jeon and I tell you the plays first?” Nicky shrugs, still looking at the ground. “Because your teammates listen to you. They trust you to communicate with them out there. We trust you to make the right decisions out there when things aren't going our way.”

“I should have found someone open,” he says. “I hogged the ball. You taught us to run and pass, but I held on to it. I thought too highly of myself. Look at what happened.”

“There wasn't anyone open,” Yoongi says, trying to appease him. “We underestimated this team, and that was my fault. I didn't do the correct research, and we went in there blind. You got yourself out of that corner and ran with the ball just like you're supposed to do. You did nothing wrong today.”

“But I disappointed you,” he argues. “I know I did. I shouldn't have missed that last shot.”

“The only way that you would have disappointed me would have been if you gave up,” Yoongi says, placing his hand on Nicky's shoulder. “You didn't give up. You and the team fought until the end and won.”

“Only by three points,” he says and wipes at his face with his sleeve. “And they were ahead a couple of times.”

“And…. you guys will run extra for that in practice on Monday for that,” Yoongi jokes. “You won, and I'm proud of you for that. Even if we didn't win, I would still be proud of you.”

“Really?” He asks.

“Really,” Yoongi confirms. “How about we go back in? I'm starving, and I know you're probably starving.”

Your eyes widen and shut the window, but unfortunately, you slam the window shut on the tip of your finger, causing you to silently curse as you run back into the kitchen. Shaking your hand, you quickly plate some food rather sloppily onto the plates, trying to act natural as they come back into the house.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, acting innocent as you try to hide your throbbing finger.

“Yeah, I'll be back,” Nicky says, walking past you.

Yoongi leans against the counter with his arms crossed against his chest, staring at you. You look at him, and he has a small smile playing across his lips.

“How's your finger?” He asks.

“My finger?” You reply.

“The one you shut in the window when you were spying?” He asks.

“I…” he raises an eyebrow, daring you to continue your lie. “Oh, sue me. I wanted to know what was going on.”

“Did you not trust me?” He asks.

“I do trust you,” you tell him.

“Then trust me to tell you if there is anything you need to know,” he says.

“Why couldn't he talk to me?” You question shaking your hand again, trying to ease the throbbing pain. “He knows that he can always come to me when he needs something. He always has.”

“Would you have known what to say?” He asks, taking your hand in his to look at your red finger. You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I want him to be comfortable to come to me if he needs to talk. Even if it's just about basketball. I'm not trying to take that away from you.”

“Fine, I won't spy on your conversations with him anymore,” you concede, taking your hand back.

“Thank you,” he says, with a smirk and you roll your eyes in return.

“Yeah, yeah, you win this one,” you tell him.

“Can you repeat that?” He asks, leaning closer. “Did you just say that I won an argument?”

“Don't get cocky,” you warn.

“You've admitted to liking me, trusting me AND… I won an argument. Oh, I'm going to be cocky,” he says, taking all three plates to the table.

Crossing your arms you watch him go with a shake of your head.

You've created a monster.

“Touch the line,” Yoongi yells as the boys run across the court touching the lines. “We won by three points! THREE POINTS! That is nothing to brag about. It should have fifteen…. ten, but three? THREE!”

The boys were tired, huffing and puffing as they stood against the wall trying to catch their breath. Coach Jeon blows his whistle as they all take off touching each line before running back to the wall before running forward again to touch the next line and so on. They looked miserable. You felt miserable watching them.

“I think that was pure luck,” Yoongi continues. “They weren’t tired. They could have played a whole other game while you all looked ready to collapse. Huffing and puffing out of breath like you have never run around a court before.”

“SIX LAPS!” Coach Jeon shouts, with a whistle blow. “We've been taking it too easy on you. Our main focus will be stamina….”

“This is awful,” you whisper to Mark.

“They're not wrong, though,” he says. “That team had some new players that we weren't anticipating. They were quick, and our boys tired out too soon.”

"Anticipating?" You question. "Am I supposed to be keeping track of other teams?"

"Some of us do," his answer makes you slouch a bit.

“The Y has an indoor track, right?” You ask, and he nods. “Maybe I should get Nicky a membership, and he can run on Sundays and in the off-season.”

“Yeah, maybe Jun can join him,” Mark says.

“My son would love to do it too,” chicken parm mom says, poking her head between you and Mark. “I'll set up a group chat.”

You give her a small smile and look away awkwardly. Over your shoulder, you see Ara sitting with a couple of other moms. Sighing, you wipe your hands on your jeans and make your way over to her. As you stand in front of her, she gives you a look of disgust.

“Look, clearly, we will never be friends but….,” you start.

“Oh, so you do have a couple of brain cells,” she sneers.

“I'm trying to apologize. You don't need to take cheap shots at me,” you say, trying to keep your cool. “I shouldn't have repeated what your husband said.”

“And I'm not going to feel bad for you just because everyone else does,” she snaps.

“Ara,” her friend hisses, knocking her knee with her own.

“I don't need you to feel bad for me,” you tell her. "I'm just trying to .... I don't know.... ease the tension."

“Is something wrong, ladies?” Yoongi asks, coming up to stand on the steps next to you.

“I tried,” you say, shaking your head. “I really tried.”

“I don't need your fake apologies,” Ara snaps. “So you can take your ass back wherever you came from.”

“Three practice suspension, Ara,” Yoongi says, staring at her with a serious expression.

“Excuse me,” she screeches, standing up from her seat. “Suspension?”

“You heard me,” he said, staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“For what?” She asks, her fiery gaze focused on burning a hole through his head.

“We don't swear here,” he reminds her, remaining the complete professional that he is. "I believe you know this rule."

“You let her off the hook,” she accuses him.

“Because you goaded her into that situation,” he explains. “I do believe this one is all you. Y/N, here was just apologizing to you.”

“You cannot suspend me,” she argues. “After all I have done for you and this team, you can not suspend me.”

“Yes, I can,” he argues back. “Now you can leave now and for the next three practices, or I can just… ban you if you want to cause a scene. You signed the exact same contract that everyone else did. You are not above anyone else.”

Ara scoffs and looks at her friends, who seem to find their phones a little more interesting at the moment. Grabbing her bag, she walks down the stairs and out the gym doors. Yoongi doesn't say anything to you as he walks back down the bleachers to the court. You, yourself, turn to go back and sit next to Mark, who looked thoroughly amused.

“I think our queen bee's reign of terror might finally be coming to an end,” he comments.

“That wasn't my intention,” you say. “I was really trying to apologize.”

“Yeah, but I still thank you,” he jokes. “On the other hand….”

“She might open hell fire on us?” You ask and he nods.

Two whistles blow causing you to jump.

“Get back on the wall,” Yoongi instructs. “I better see fingers touching the lines. I can do this all week!”

This was going to be a long practice, and you probably just made things worse!

Settling into your bed, you flip through your channels on the tv hanging on your wall. Nicky fell out hours ago. Your normal human garbage disposal barely even touched his food at dinner. His eyes fought to stay open the entire time he sat at the table. You understood that this was a part of the whole playing sports thing, but that didn't mean you had to like it. You thought it was too much just for a damn trophy, a stupid shiny piece of metal.

Snuggling deep down into your blankets, you wrap your arms around your pillow. As you start to focus on the random movie on the tv. Your heart stops at the ringing of the doorbell. Looking at your clock, the red glaring numbers read ten thirty stared back at you. Sitting up, you reach for your phone, only to swear when you remember that you left it charging in the kitchen on the counter when you were cleaning.

“Fuck,” you curse yourself.

SItting up, you wait and hear the doorbell again. Jumping out of bed, you run to your closet, grabbing your brother's old hockey stick and march to the front door. Keeping the lights off, you unlock the door and throw it open. You raise the hockey stick over your shoulder, ready to strike, should you have to.

“WHOA, WHOA,” Yoong says as the street light illuminates your figure. “It's me, it's me.”

“What the fuck, Yoongi,” you say, dropping the stick off your shoulder but keeping it in your hand as you hit the lightswitch on the wall. “Do you know what time it is?”

Oh my god!

When did you turn into your mom?

“I tried calling you?” He explains.

“I didn't have my phone on me,” you tell him. “I would have hit you with this.”

“I didn't think you were going to come to the door armed,” he jokes with a light laugh.

“It's late, and I have a kid to protect,” you say seriously. “Who the hell rings a doorbell this late at night?”

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly. “I got some exciting exciting news and I couldn't wait to tell you. I came over since you weren't answering your phone.”

“Exciting news?” You ask, waving him inside and shutting the door. “Is the Loch Ness Monster officially gone?”

“No,” he says. “Jungkook had dinner tonight with one of his friends and found out something amazing.”

Pause.

He looks at you expectantly, and you shrug.

“Good for him,” you say.

“His friend has ties to some sports agents,” Yoongi informs you. “Years ago, there used to be this basketball camp that only invited kids could go to. Like the best of the best, could go to.”

“And,” you say, willing him to hurry this up.

“They closed it years ago, but we found out…. they are going to open it again,” he tells you smiling.

“I think you're too old for it,” you say, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Listen, my nice warm bed is getting cold.”

“Obviously, it's for Nicky,” he replies, ignoring your last comment. “It wouldn't be for a couple of years because he has to be fifteen to participate, but this is huge news.”

“Hold on,” you say, spinning the hockey stick. “You come over here at ten thirty at night. Scaring the shit out of me to tell me about some camp that Nicky can't even get into yet?”

“I understand,” he says. “But this is big, and we need to get him on a good training schedule now so he can be ready.”

“For what?” You ask, confused. “You don't get to decide that he's doing this.”

“Don't take this opportunity away from him just because you hate basketball,” he argues.

“And don't try to live out your dream through him,” you snap. Yoongi gives you a strained smile before heading back toward the door. “Wait, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please. Come back.”

“It's been a long day for all of us,” he says, “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“No,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the couch, making him sit down. “I'm sorry. I'll listen.”

“Boy's would kill for this opportunity,” he explains. “With the right training, Nicky could get that opportunity. It could open so many doors for him in the future with the things he could learn there. Things that I can't teach him.”

“It sounds expensive,” you say, and he looks guiltily at you. “Great! How much are feet pictures going for nowadays? Am I too old for the strip club?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, pulling you into his lap. “Clearly, I will help you with the money. I know your parents will help.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got what…. two years to save up? I'll get it figured out.”

“I didn't think that far ahead,” he admits. “I got too excited at the news of them reopening.”

“It's really that big of a deal?” You question, making him nod in answer. “You're willing to work with him?”

“Of course I am,” he responds. “I'm not going to let him waste his talent.”

“God, Nick would have loved you,” you sigh, making Yoongi scrunch his face in confusion. “Nicky's dad. Nicky is Nicolas Jr.”

“Oh,” he says softly.

Getting off his lap, you go to your tv stand and open a door that hid a box of pictures where you kept away from your nephew. Sitting down next to him, you open the lid to the show box and scrounge around for a minute before handing him a four by six inch glossy picture.

“This is his dad?” He asks and you nod. “Man…”

“They look alike, huh?” You comment. “That was his senior year championship game in highschool. That would have been about a year before Nicky would be born.” Fingering through the messy memories, you grab one near the bottom of the brown box and hand it to him. “His mom Sarah.”

“I can see him in her too,” he comments as he studies the picture.

“She is… was,” you swallow and wipe your eyes. “She was the perfect basketball mom. You would have loved her. She would have organized your team schedule for you and had homemade snacks for the boys after practice.” You laugh lightly to yourself and look at their pictures. “But now you're stuck with me. All I do is fuck everything up even when I'm not trying to. He shouldn't be here with me. I'm going to mess his future up.”

Cover your face with one of your hands, you try to hide away as that constant lump in your throat finally loosens as you hiccup. Yoongi immediately has you back in his lap, tucking your chin over his shoulder as his hands run over your back.

“That's not true,” he says.

“Yes, it is,” you cry, pulling back to look at him. “He should have gone with my parents. I'm too fucked up for this shit. I'm too selfish for this.”

“Don't say that,” he chides.

“You don't even know the half of it,” you say through your tears. “You don't really even know me.”

“Then tell me,” he demands. “Stop hiding from me.”

“No!” You sob.

“Why?” He asks loudly.

“Because you won't want me if I do,” you cry.

“Sunshine, why are you crying,” Nicky asks, coming into the room before turning an angry glare to his basketball coach. “What did you do to her?”

“Nicks, stop,” you say, wiping your face quickly as you jump off of your boyfriend and walk up to your nephew. “He didn't do anything.”

“She's just upset,” Yoongi says, gently standing from the couch. “Everything is okay.”

“Why are those pictures out,” the teen says, marching over to the shoe box. Bending, he picks up the two pictures of his parents that lay on the coffee table. “I said that I didn't want their pictures out. I'm not ready for that yet!”

“I'm sorry,” you say. “I'll put them away.”

“It was my fault,” Yoongi steps in, lying for you. “I was asking questions.”

“Well, it's none of your business,” Nicky snaps. “I told you all you needed to know!”

“Nicky, stop it!” You demand.

“I understand…” Yoongi tries calming the young teen down, but he isn't having any of it.

“You don't understand shit,” he barks. “You're just trying to be nice to sleep with her! Stop trying to push yourself into our lives.”

“You watch your mouth,” you snap.

The two of you stand toe to toe. He's grown these past few months. You used to have a couple of inches on him, but now he's looking you dead in the eye. It wouldn't be long before he surpasses you. The hardness in his eyes that you have never seen before suddenly disappears as he crumbles into your body, taking you down onto the floor.

“Why did they have to leave me?” He cries into your chest.

You tightly wrap your arms around the boy, your body attempting to rock him back and forth like you would when he was a baby. Back when his mom would swaddle him in your arms, and you sang him to sleep. Back when everything was perfect and everyone was happy. Back when you were still innocent and thought the world was a safe place.

He was so big now.

His body, wrecked in sobs, could barely fit in your arms.

“They loved you so much,” you tell him, tilting his head up to look at you. “They would never willingly leave you. I know they would have given anything to be here with you.”

“I m.m..iss them so much,” he confesses with a stuttered whisper. “It's not fair. It is not fair that all of my friends get to have parents and I don't.”

“I know. I miss them too,” you whisper back through your own tears, cradling him as close as you could get. “Everyday.”

Turning back into your warmth, he cries. He cries for his parents and for the loss of his childhood. He cries for the sadness, the love, the anger, and all the other overwhelming emotions he feels. You stay quiet. You stay completely quiet and let him get it all out.

You're not sure how long you held him for, but just as your arms were getting tired Nicky shifts. Clutching the pictures to his chest, he stands from the ground and walks in front of Yoongi, looking a little embarrassed and much more calm.

“I’m sorry, coach,” he says, sniffing and red-faced. “I didn't mean what I said.”

“It's okay,” Yoongi promises and pats his shoulder softly. “We all say things we don't mean sometimes. I'm not mad. I promise.”

Taking you by surprise and more so Yoongi by surprise, Nicky launches himself at the blonde basketball coach and wraps his arms around him. You watch stunned as Yoongi hesitates for a moment before embracing your nephew. Pushing yourself off the floor, you approach the two of them with the intention of pulling Nicky away from Yoongi, but Yoongi stops you. Instead, he opens an arm for you, offering space for you to join them.

Entering the embrace, you press a kiss to your nephew’s head, making him turn to look at you. You run your thumbs over the tear tracks on his cheeks as he closes his eyes once more. You wish you could do more. This was all above you. He needed help that you couldn't give him.

“We need to get you back in bed,” you say softly. “I'll call you off school tomorrow if you want. We can take the day off together.”

“I need to go to practice,” he replies.

“I think you gave me a doctor's note,” Yoongi says. “You were too sick to go to school.”

Nicky nods his head, and you pull him away from Yoongi to guide him back to his room. As he climbs back in his bed, you pick up the scattered clothes that littered his bedroom floor. Throwing them in his dirty clothes basket, you take the pictures of his parents from his hands and place them on his nightstand.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes.

“You don't need to be sorry,” you say, pulling the covers up over his lap.

“Dad would have been pissed that I talked to coach like that,” he said.

“Watch it,” you say lightly. “You're very lucky that Yoongi is understanding and forgiving. Now, go back to sleep, and we can talk some more in the morning.”

You get up from the bed and head for the door, but his voice stops you, making you turn once more.

“I think he would have been proud too,” Nicky says. “Dad always worried about you, I think. He said it was his job to take care of you. Now that he's not here. It's my job.”

Fuck! This kid is going to kill you!

“It's your job to be a kid,” you disagree. “Now, go to sleep.”

Stepping out of his room, you close the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you head for the living room once more, and you find Yoongi still standing in the same place where you left him. Stopping in front of him, you watch as he studies you for a moment. You don't blame him. You wouldn't know how to react either. Rising to your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in tight to him.

“What do you need from me?” He asks. “I'm afraid to do the wrong thing right now.”

“Stay,” you mumble into the flesh of his neck. “I don't want to be alone tonight.”

“As you wish,” he whispers against your hair.

Turning your head, you lie it flat on his shoulder. Your eyes go to the mess of pictures on your table. You can't actually make any of them out, but you know what ones are over there by heart. Childhood pictures, Christmas mornings with your brothers in front of the tree, Halloween costumes, and everything in between. Closing your eyes, tears escape, rolling down your face, dripping off the tip of your nose, and onto his sweatshirt.

You were so tired.

Your heart ached horribly.

You missed your brother.

Your best friend.

Your confidant.

“Will it ever get better?” You ask him, your eyes still closed. “Will it ever not hurt?”

“I don't know,” he replies, honestly. “I can't make it stop hurting. I wish I could, but I can't.”

“I'm trying,” you say as you pull away from him. “I know you don't see it but..I'm trying.” He gives you a look of confusion as he tries to interpret your words. “I'm trying to figure out how to not hide from you.”

“Don't worry about that right now,” he says. “Whatever it is. Whenever you're willing to talk to me about it. You know where to find me, okay?”

You nod.

He's right.

You do know where to find him.

Usually… it's right by your side.

《Chapter 14》

A/N: So, in my original cut of this. Nicky got a little physical with both of them, and then I cut it. That's not him. Grief does strange things to people, but I don't think he would hurt her.

Tagged Readers:

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee @jajabro , @wicked-game-black-butler

@wobblewobble882, @damn-u-min-yoongi @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen

@yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp

@redragdoll, @ot72025, @seoullove96 , @our-cool-jenny

@kam9404 , @momma1 @amarawayne, @militrybarbi

@haileyborig, @bettytta, @ilikekpop-c @mar-lo-pap , @lattejimin,@butterymin

@thelilbutifulthings , @cannotalwaysbenight @notsooperfect

@muchwita , @maryhopemei, @rinkud, @misfits1a, @ktownshizzle

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #bts suga #yoongi x you #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi angst

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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The Night Shift - Part 5 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: swearing, min yoongi being a cute flirty shit, teasing, reader not being used to attention is a warning because i feel that A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH. I am so excited, really, for all the love you've given this. Here's the next chapter. I also created a tag list at the end of each chapter or drabble I'll post, please do let me know if I forgot you. Send in an ask, or comment or like the chapter and I'll add you to it. I might take longer between chapter to posts as I'm figuring out where this is going considering I had no plan going into this. I hope you all enjoy! :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 5

You decided on day two of your new schedule that you are not a fan.

Yes, having a normal sleeping schedule is quite nice. You see your friends more often, which is an infinite plus. But it’s busier, which you did not like.

It's day three now, and you are cautiously optimistic that things have finally slowed down as the clock turns over to 9 p.m. With three hours left to go, you desperately try to work on your essay for your Korean language class. You have never worked a shift so busy before, and you’re positively tired. You’re staring absentmindedly at your laptop, distracted by the noise of students just outside the main area.

You begin to type away, glancing up every once in a while to make sure everything is okay as you get lost in essay writing. This is the only time you get to have some decent studying time, at least for the next few days. Eunji’s mother and much younger siblings are in town visiting, staying with you for the week, and lovely humans they are. The kids are full of energy and love cuddling with their big sister to watch movies.

Hwayoung and you have given them space for the next few days at the apartment, going out to study, but with your work schedule changing, it hasn’t been easy. It’s taking some time to adjust, and you know you will adapt, but it’s proven difficult.

You don’t know how much time passes until you’re startled by a hand appearing in front of your screen as you snap your head up at your intruder. You break out into a smile when your eyes lock with Yoongi’s. You quickly glance at what he placed in front of you, and bite your lower lip, “Ah, energy!” You grab the peeled tangerine and begin eating, “You scared me.”

You’re pouting when he leans on the desk, “Didn’t mean to, but I’ve been standing there waiting for you to notice.”

Your eyes grow wide, “You’re lying!?”

“Nope. Peeled the whole thing while you were staring at your laptop.” He licks his lips, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Your mouth is open, processing what he’s saying, “I’m sorry?”

He shrugs, “Homework?”

“Korean Language class essay.” His nose wrinkles and upper lip pulls up, making you giggle as you cover your mouth. “Not a fan?”

He shakes his head, “Nope, I was good at it, but was never a fan of it.”

You pop another piece of tangerine in your mouth, “Thank you.” You raise what’s left in your hands, and he nods in understanding. “So, you stopping by just for this or to study?”

He looks around, looking back and nodding to the remnants of the fruit in your hand, “Just that,” you look so pleased at that, “oh, and this too…” his hand pops up over the counter, and he slips his phone in front of you. What’s more surprising is that it’s open on a brand new contact page.

Is he really…?

“Huh?” Why is that the only thing that comes out of your mouth?

It must amuse him because he’s chewing the inside of his cheeks, attempting to stop a grin from growing, “Could I get your number?”

Your hands gently grab his phone, pulling it closer as you glance at him once more, and you hum while staring at the device, “Mhm.”

You enter your name and information, playfully adding the closest thing to a tangerine emoji next to your name as you hand it back, and he looks down at it. You hear your phone buzz right away, frowning while looking at him as you reach for your phone. It’s an unknown number and you can’t help the sheer happiness showing in your laugh lines when you add his number to yours.

When you look up at him, he’s peeling another tangerine while looking at you, “So, any special reason for this?”

He shrugs, “It’s better than only getting to talk here, no?”

He wants to talk to you, that’s what you take out of this. You nod, “Yeah, way better.”

He looks around and says, “You off at midnight?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m meeting with my friends nearby, but I’ll come back and walk you home.”

You want to protest his working you into his time, but he doesn’t give you a moment to do so, handing you the second tangerine. You take it, smiling as he grabs his bag and turns around to leave. You sit there, half a tangerine in one hand and another one in the other as you laugh to yourself. What is happening?

You put both fruits down and text your friends right away, sending them a photo of the tangerines.

You [9:27 PM]: You guys were right, he did show up ><

You put the device down to eat more of the tangerine, and you just manage to finish the first one when your friends respond.

Hwayoung [9:31 PM]: I told you he would. He can’t stay away for too long. (wink emoji)

Eunji [9:32 PM]: Still treating you right I see? (flirty emoji)

You [9:32 PM]: He didn’t just come by for those. He asked for my number (blushing emoji)

You see both of them type at the same time and laugh softly at how excited they are for you.

Hwayoung [9:34 PM]: Atta boy!!

Eunji [9:34 PM]: YES! Get that number! God, I’m so happy for you!!!

Hwayoung [9:34 PM]: You’ll have to tell us the whole story when you get home!! I wanna watch your face!

Eunji [9:35 PM]: Are you ridiculously happy right now?! Because I’m so happy for you!

You [9:35 PM]: I am! But you’ll also never guess what else?

Eunji [9:36 PM]: ??????

Hwayoung [9:36 PM]: Please just tell us!

You [9:37 PM]: He left, and he’s coming back to walk me home! ><

The onslaught of texts you get reacting to that makes you laugh harder, keeping your laughter as low as possible. You put your phone aside as you go back to writing your essay. You still hear it buzzing a few times before it goes quiet again.

You're back on track now. You’ve done another walkthrough of the library and put away any stray books, helped a few people along the day, and you’re now trying to make headway with your essay, finally settling in for the last two hours of your shift.

You don’t know why these last five minutes are going so slowly. The security guard has already shown up to wish you a good night. You stand up from your spot and gather your bag, and right as you’re thinking he might not show, you look up to see Yoongi on the other side of the turnstiles. You release the breath you had been holding as you meet him, exiting the library, and he’s looking at you with a soft smile.

“Good to go?”

You nod, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, and he immediately extends his hand to you, “What?”

“Gimme the bag, lemme carry it.” Out of habit, you open your mouth to protest, but he’s already grabbing it from you. You’re walking along with him as he slings your bag over his shoulder like it’s nothing.

Everything about him surprises you. He’s been so open with you and willing to be around you, even though a few weeks ago, you were essentially strangers. You watch him as he shoots someone a text, stuffing his phone in his jacket before looking over to you.

“How was work?” He’s cutely chewing on his upper lip.

“I hate it.” You make him snort with your quippy response. “I mean it, I don’t like this shift, but I guess the more reasonable sleeping hours are nice?”

He smacks his lips and smiles, “What do you hate?”

“It’s way busier, and noisier. I liked that it was boring. I got to do all my work usually and I could even walk around. I guess I got comfortable with it?” You shrug as he nods.

“And now, awful students are keeping you busy?” He’s teasing, and you can tell from his eyes.

Pouting at him, you nod, “Mhm. It sucks.”

He laughs, and it’s really the first time you get to hear his laughter. It’s higher than his speaking voice and very boyish, but very nice all the same. Enough to give you butterflies at least, and you definitely try to ignore that feeling as he nudges you with his shoulder.

“You hungry?”

Your eyes snap up to his as you both come to a stop, “Always.”

Yoongi grins while looking around, “Wanna grab food?”

There is the smallest of insecure voices inside your head telling you to decline his offer, not to bother him considering how late it is, but you’re glad that you seem to like following your heart as you nod, “What did you have in mind?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know…what do you like?”

“Fried chicken?”

He looks over to his left then back at you, “I know a place. You wanna?”

You nod, eager to eat and to spend more time with him, “Yeah.”

You both walk off campus with you following him as he confidently guides you to a small restaurant just at the beginning of the main street near the University. You frown when you realize how very little you go out to new places, because you never even knew this was here as you walk in when Yoongi opens the door for you.

It’s nice and quaint, but it smells amazing as you smile when the wonderful owner welcomes you. She sees Yoongi behind you and says, “Ah! There you are, I was beginning to wonder where you went!”

He shyly looks down, bowing and apologizing, “I’ve been busy with school and the restaurant.” She sweetly walks right over to hug him as he stands there and then she looks at you.

There’s a silent look shared between them as she personally guides the both of you over to a table and sits you down. You chuckle as she walks to the kitchen and you finally get a moment to look to Yoongi.

“You don’t just know a place. You know a place.” He blushes, rubbing the back of his neck as he slips his coat off.

“She’s uh, she’s my mom’s best friend.” He confesses.

You smile, biting your lower lip as you slip your coat off too, “That’s sweet.”

He shrugs, “She always chastises me.”

“Why?” You’re amused by the imagery.

“I don’t visit often enough. I don’t eat enough. I don’t bring my friends enough. I don’t…” he trails off, pausing like he’s considering what he’s going to say next as he takes a quick glance at you, “I don’t have a girlfriend to show off…” he grabs the water already at the table.

Your cheeks grow warm, looking over your shoulder to the kitchen as you wonder what his mom’s best friend thought when she saw you. They definitely shared a look when he briefly introduced you.

“She’s a mom, I’m assuming?” He nods. “Then, I guess those are just mom things to worry about.”

He sighs, “She’s not just a mom. She’s Namjoon’s mom.”

Your eyes grow wide as you snap your head back to where you can see her in the back, looking back to Yoongi, “Really?”

Yoongi nods, “Mhm.”

“So, you guys are really close?”

Yoongi stays silent, looking over your shoulder, and Namjoon’s mom comes to your table, placing some side dishes and two beers. She smiles at both of you and says, “Are you two talking about me?”

You mouth the air, looking to Yoongi for help, and he thankfully provides it, “She has a class with Namjoon. I was just telling her–”

“I’m his mom!” She looks so proud when she announces it too, and you soften.

Yoongi sits there as you talk to Namjoon’s mom, listening to her sharing stories of her son and Yoongi. You love just how embarrassed Yoongi gets when she tells some story about their teens as he stops her, “Wait, wait, can…can we eat and not tell every embarrassing thing Namjoon and I have done, because we’ll be here for days…”

Your eyes widen as you stare at him, biting your lip to stifle your laughter and mouthing, “Really?”

He nods, glancing back and forth, “I have to walk her home, we’re gonna eat and go, mhm?”

He and Namjoon’s mom, whose name you come to find out is Jungyoon or Mrs. Kim, are having a standoff staring context as she relents, “Fine. I’ll let you kids eat. Enjoy the food and let me know if you need anything.”

You bow to her, smiling brightly as you look at the side dishes. She returns seconds later with many different kinds of chicken for you two to have as you thank her one more time. You glance up to him and he nods at you, digging into the food.

Every bite brings a satisfying fullness to your starving stomach, smiling with every piece of chicken you eat. He reaches to open the beers but you stop him, shaking your head with a full mouth. You finish your bite, “I don’t drink. You can have it if you’d like.”

He looks back to the cooler and stands up, taking the second beer with him and he returns with a soda for you instead, “This okay?”

You nod, stunned into silence, “Mhm.”

It’s nearly 1:30 am when you both finish eating and talking.

He’s much more of a talker than you had imagined and there’s so much you’ve found out about him. Time has flown by, and soon enough you are both saying your goodbyes to Mrs. Kim who sends you off with leftovers and a warm hug.

Yoongi stands off to the side before she brings him into a hug, making you laugh at the wrinkle in his nose. You’re quickly learning he doesn’t seem to be a fan of physical affection, but that if anything, his love language seems to be acts of service. This man doesn’t stop with the smallest gestures that make your heart skip a beat. You fear you’ll have no heart left to skip if he keeps this up.

He’s back to carrying your bag, but this time he leaves you to carry the leftovers sent home with you by Mrs. Kim. You did steal the bag directly from him without giving him any thought to be fair.

You look up to him and smile, “Thank you.”

His eyebrows raise, “It wasn’t much.”

“It was, though.” He looks surprised by your soft, thankful tone. “I just appreciate it.”

You notice something about Yoongi. He really struggles with being thanked for what most would think of as sweet gestures, things that aren’t often just done with people you’ve just met. It seems to come naturally to him, despite, what some people have called, a cold appearance.

Min Yoongi is soft.

“So, do you often do this or is this new to you?” You’re teasing. You don’t actually expect him to answer.

“Do what?”

“Take girls you’ve recently met to late night fried chicken and walk them home.” You feel your heart sink in your chest when you realize just how close to your apartment the restaurant was. Or have you been so in your head that you never noticed time passing?

The silence is comfortable, the ambient noises of the streets a comfortable background noise as you watch him. His face speaks for him more than he seems to be aware of too. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you could watch him for hours probably. To watch the way his eyes process things, how they dance side to side or how quickly he’s blinking. Or the way he licks his lips, tongue sometimes poking out or how he smacks his lips together. Min Yoongi is very expressive, and his face tells a story.

And while you’re getting to slowly understand what story he might be telling, nothing prepares you for what he says next. Yoongi comes to a complete stop, his face neutral as he takes you in. He licks his lips, exhaling loudly yet again.

“No.”

You think this is it, his answer, but he continues.

“That’s specifically reserved for you.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t this, and he can tell. He’s satisfied with your reaction because he tugs you by the elbow, gently tugging you to keep walking up your street. You’re quiet, processing his words. You never expected him to be this bold, and honest.

And that’s fucking hot.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You snap your head to him in mild shock, wondering if he knows you’ve compared his looks to being cat-like. You feel heat rise in your cheeks, opening and closing your mouth. The smallest whine leaves your lips and you use your free hand to feel how warm your cheek is. One quick glance to Yoongi tells you it pleases him to see you react like that.

“Stop.”

“Mhm?” He looks at you, moving to face you. “Say that again?”

“I said stop.” You’re embarrassed, trying to hide your face as he chuckles. “Oppa, stop!”

Your eyes grow wide immediately, realizing what you’ve just said. Oh no. You look up to meet his eyes, and he doesn’t look nearly as shocked as you are. No, instead, he’s smirking and trying to hide his amusement from you, but failing.

“I…I–” you start, but he chuckles, catching you off guard.

Should you be offended by that laugh?

“I’m not making fun of you, I swear. I’m sorry.” He extends his hand to your arm, gently tugging and squeezing it softly. “We’re close, let’s get you home, okay?”

You agree, following him the rest of the way as you try to tame your jittery heart. You look up to your building when you both come to a stop, shyly looking down to your feet.

“So…” your voice is small, looking up at him. “I wanted to say sorry…”

“Why?”

“Because I called you Oppa, and I know we’re nowhere near close enough…” You admit.

Yoongi takes a few steps closer to you, leaning down to look into your eyes, “Can I be honest with you?”

You meet his eyes, a kindness yet playfulness about them, “Mhm.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve called me that.”

Your world turns upside down as you frown, “Huh?”

“We were right here the last time you called me that.” He glances around to your building. “I gave you the keychain.”

“I don’t…I don’t remember that.” He smiles at that confession. “I really don’t.”

“That’s okay.” He stands tall. “I do. And I don’t mind it.”

“You don’t?”

He shakes his head, grinning as he chews on the inside of his cheek, “I like it.”

You blush even more, “Oh…”

There’s a comfortable, but emotionally charged silence between the both of you. You look at him and he seems to understand the heaviness of this moment as he slips your bag off his shoulder, “Don’t overthink it, okay? It’s late and you said you had a class in the morning.”

You nod as you grab your bag and you look at him, “Okay.”

“Promise?” He holds out his pinky to you, staring at it for a moment before returning the gesture.

“Promise.” You say as he lets go of your hand.

He smiles softly, hands in his coat as he nods to your building, “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The promise of that makes your eyes soften, smiling softly as you nod, “Goodnight, and thank you.”

He watches as you step into your apartment, every moment of the last fifteen minutes replaying in your head over and over the entire ride up to your apartment. Your feet take you into your apartment and through your routine. Leftovers are put neatly in the fridge, your coat hangs on the rack, you wash up and change before slipping under the covers of your bed.

You’re staring at the ceiling when your phone screen lights up the room, reaching for it blindly in the darkness as your eyes adjust to the light. Unlocking it and going to your messages your breath catches in your throat as you read Yoongi’s very first text to you.

Yoongi [2:13 AM]: I meant it. I like you calling me Oppa.

Here is the official tag list for this series. If I forgot anybody? Please comment or send in an ask, I will try to diligently add you! :D

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

#min yoongi #yoongi #bts #suga #agust d #min yoongi x f!reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x f!reader #yoongi x reader #au #university au #university au student #alternate universe #min yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fanfic #the night shift gunwoo-bh

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pinkslaystation · 1 year ago

Text

No longer a memory [Simon 'Ghost' Riley]

You are reading: [Part 2] Read [Part 1] here! Word Count: 1.4k You viewed Simon as your friend, but clearly he did feel the same.

When Ghost was asked about his emergency contact, he mentioned Soap's name.

"You can't put down another soldier, mate. Gotta be yer ma or summit." His higher-ups informed him.

"Why no'?" He grumbled, leaning against the wall in the dingy office.

"Wot if you're on a mission with 'im? Wot if he's injured too? Hm? Just do me a favour and put down yer missus, will ya."

Ghost rolled his eyes in annoyance, slamming the door shut as he walked out. With an important mission coming soon, it was vital that everything was in order before they left.

He just doesn't get it. Why does a skilled killer like him need an emergency contact? He's only been fatally injured once, and when they contacted his previous emergency number back then, was it really a big deal with someone at the nearest Maccies picked up?

Gaz frequently laughs at him, "Tried to call your mother, ordered a quarter pounder instead." It's a running joke in the team.

Ghost skims through his phone contacts, and he's embarrassed to see how few numbers he has: 5 being his teammates including Gaz, Soap and Price, one being KFC, one being his mother which he had saved under Slag. He scrolls up and down rapidly, debating to himself, should he just give them a fake number?

No...they'd find out again.

He clicks under the spam numbers.

His eyes shift to a familiar number.

It was yours.

The monotonous ticking of the clock paired with the irregular typing of the keyboards were burnt into your brain unknowingly. You've lost count of the number of days you've been in the menial job now, your first job since graduating university. How long have you been with that company, 2 years? 602 days now? You're counting the days 'til the weekend but even during that, you've got no one to come home to.

What a pathetic life.

Sometimes you wonder what Simon was doing in that exact moment was he working like you? Was he also in London? Did he...think of you, the way you think of him? It's possible he's forgotten, I mean after 5 years you've lost contact with the majority of your classmates- so much for best friends for life.

You check your phone, 9:28 P.M. 2 more minutes and you're running out of there.

By the time it hits 11 P.M., you're tucked away in bed a movie playing the background as you're aimlessly listening to reddit stories on TikTok whilst watching a minecraft speedrun.

You switch to using Instagram, by that I mean stalking. Your friends seems to be growth further away from you, one sending you an e-invite to their wedding, one welcoming their 1st child into their families, and yet you're still hung over about the last day of secondary school. The way the last time you had seen him had been in form, when he glances at you walking in late. The way his hands would purposely linger against yours when you were asked to hand out sheets to the class.

The mere thought of him jolted you. That, and the sound of your phone ringing.

It was an unknown number.

There's a hitch in your breathing. Was this a sign? What's the phrase, speak of the devil and he has appear? Was it perhaps...Simon?

You wait for a minute before picking up, not wanting to come across as desperate.

"...Hello?" You murmur.

"Hey." The voice is harsh and cold. It reminded you of Simon.

"Simon?" You whisper, a smile appearing on your face.

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"What? No- Alan. From Accounting. You left some documents here at work, they seem important. You gonna pick 'em up?"

You blink. Once again your're stuck in another fantasy. In what world would it be Simon? The man who couldn't even reply to your texts in summer holidays. The man who wouldn't even attempt to return a full smile when you locked eyes in the corridor. The man you shouldn't have feelings for. Because, well, it's not like they were ever reciprocated.

What a pathetic life.

Alan, the dickhead from Accounting interrupts yet again. "Yo, you there? Wan' me to bin them?"

You sit up in your bed, sighing deeply uncomfortable, "Pull up your pants man, I'll be there in 30, Jesus. Just leave them on my desk."

Question. What's short but intense, most people dislike it, but you find it thrilling? One would think a conversation with Simon. But the answer is: London traffic.

You'd assume the usually busy roads to be dead and empty at 11:30 P.M. ish, but you're heavily mistaken, my friend. Seems like London nights are the life of the party. Driving past busy clubs and lit up pubs, whilst listening to One Of The Girls by The Weeknd [SUCH A GOOD SONG-] made you feel like a movie star in a coming of age film.

One where the guy gets the girl.

Of course, the majority of the drive you've being beeped at, or you're doing the beeping, but it's what really appealed to you when making the move to the heart of London. Life moves on whether you want or not, might at well be at the capital of England. Though sometimes you feel you're more likely to run into Simon in the north...

By the time you reach the entrance of your workplace, you begin regretting your outfit decisions, making eye contact with yourself in the reflection of the glass doors: A black hoodie and flared joggers. Nothing wrong in the clothing of course, but compared to the Data Analysts and Investment Bankers that are judging you right now, it makes you feel like the smallest person in the room.

Just a elevator ride up, grabbing your shit, another ride down, brisk walking to the car, and you can go back to the comfort of your bed. Easy, no?

You're in the elevator finally. The weird look from the receptionist really was the cherry on the cake.

Soon enough, the doors open again at the 9th floor, and you're met with the dark room of your department, which only had 2 of your colleagues slaving away at their desks, one which you're 99% sure is rotting away as they type on their keyboard.

You briefly nod at the two as they look up from the elevator doors opening, to which they returned.

Where's that file, where's the fucking file. You mumble to yourself, sifting through all the papers from your desk. The rotting lady looks up to you, shushing you for the noise.

Yeah, if only you had the courage to shush your toxic-ass husband...You think. Soon we'll hear your reddit story next to some trashy ass run on Subway Surfers on Tiktok...

The way down the elevator was excruciatingly slow, which was odd considering it was working perfectly fine 5 minutes ago.

The doors open again, at the 8th floor and 3 analysts walk into the once quiet elevator, and now you're face to face with the loud chatter of clients, and business meetings and...who left a mess in the men's toilets...

A phone rings again, and the analysts all search their coats, thinking it was theirs.

Not me.

Neither.

How is there service in this elavator-

Someone coughs, and you open your eyes from drowsiness, the 3 business musketeers silently urging you to pick up your from and rid them off that irritating ring tone.

Silently apologising, you bring your phone out of your hoodie pocket. It's another unknown number.

With no hesitation this time, just pure frustration and fatigue, you pick up the call, "Alan, I swear to God, if you're calling me again-"

Correction. There is service in the elevator. It just wasn't good.

The line breaks at the other person on the phone speaks.

"He- Co- It's an emergen- He- -mon Ril- -jury-"

"Huh?" You respond, partially not hearing as the line breaks every now and then. but also because the other 3 people decided it was okay to talk on full volume.

You try once again, "I'm sorry I can't hear you."

"Missi- crash- 3 dead- -husba"

You snort, you wish these 3 analysts were dead right now-

"-Rile- Come- t- -ocation- sen- -by text- -sband-"

The line goes dead, and you're stuck staring at your phone with more confusion than you had started. Husband?

What was that? Wrong number? No, they had addressed you by your full name. You couldn't hear much, but from what you gathered...an emergency? I mean, that alone you could tell from the shrill from the speaker's voice.

The elevator door opens again and this time, it's the ground floor and all 4 of you walk out. It looks like the scene where the rich, popular characters make a grand entrance, straight out of a K-drama, except one person clearly missed the memo about dressing formally.

You check your phone's call log, debating whether to call them back.

Before you can lock your phone and shove it back into your phone, it dings again, a text from the very number. They've given you a location. A quick search on your phone, shows you google images of an army training ground. You check the time. It's just past midnight.

Looks like you're going on an adventure.

The drive to the army grounds was shorter than Google Maps had said, and now you're parked on the side of the roads waiting for the gates to be opened.

Theories are racing through your head right now, who do you know that's in the military currently?

Your coworkers? No.

Your university friends? No.

Your secondary school classmates? No.

Simon? Can't be.

The gates open, and you drive to the 2 men standing by the doors to the building, one is dressed like a doctor, the other? Like Stalin.

You get out of your car worried, "Hi, someone called over the phone?"

"Aah, yes. Mrs Riley. A pleasure to meet you. I mean I didn't think you were even going to come." He turns to the doctor.

You don't fail to hear the words exchanged between the both of them.

"What if she works at Maccies as well...she's dressed like it-" he murmurs, smiling at you widely.

The doctor on the other hand, seems to be more tense about the situation, "Sir, can we just send her in already, it's 1 A.M., I got a family to go home to-"

"Wasn't your wife cheating on you though-"

"Sir- How do you know- Okay, Miss. Mrs... Riley, was it?" The doctor turns to you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "No. Um, no. My first name's not Riley, it's-"

"Will you just follow us. Please."

The inside of the building was almost the opposite than the outside, a loud brightly lit environment with crowds of doctors and nurses rushing around, compared to the silent dark grounds.

"Sorry, where are we going exactly?" You question, as the two men walk in front of you.

"You're handling the news better than I expected, Riley." The military leader (?) notes.

What news?

"What news?"

There's no follow up answer, instead they lead you to a quiet corridor, just outside a room, to which they gesture you to open. The doctor reads from a file, "He's going to be fine, just a few cuts and bruises-"

You interrupt, "I'm sorry?"

"What he's trying to say- we found him unconscious, seems like he inhaled too much of the gas. Thought he was in grave danger. Wasn't responding to anything. Broken rib cage, but he'll be fine. He always is, this man."

The doctor agrees with the solider.

"Indeed, a few months of bed rest, and he's be back in better shape."

The two stare at you, as you look at them with an unreadable expression.

"...And...I'm here because?"

They share a confused look.

"You're his wife, no? His emergency contact? That's what Simon said at le-"

"Si-Si-Simon?"

One second you're at home, the next you're a work again, and now you're in the bathroom with your head in your hands, sitting on the toilet lid, panic pulsating through your blood. For some reason, you can't find it in yourself to tell the truth, that you're not Simon's wife, so instead you pussied out and excused yourself to the nearest bathroom.

The good thing is, the 2 men believe you're crying over Simon's injuries, the bad thing is that he's awake. And he's been made aware of the call to his emergency contact: his wife.

"Good to say you mate. Called your wife. Sensitive one, that. Rushed-"

Simon breaks out of his dazed look. "Wife?" He barks.

The doctor shares a knowingly glance to the solider, Simon's higher up. "Yes...the one under your emergency contact?"

"Wot- Oh. Er- Yeah." Simon clenches his jaw, rubbing his temple, "Did she pick up or sum-"

"No Simon, she's here. In the bathroom."

The minimal colour in Simon's pale bruised face drains out in a click, and he's staring dead straight in front of him. For a second, no one talks, there's no movement, not even a breath is exhaled. Simon's not religious but he prays the 2 can't hear his beating heart thumping rapidly.

How was do when he sees you? A smile? A wave? A 'haven't seen you in so long'? No...he selected spouse when he put your number down for his emergency contact, if anything, he's got a role to act in front of the staff and higher-ups.

There's a knock on the door that breaks the silence. The door creaks open awkwardly, and a small head peeps out.

Simon's breath hitches.

When your parents instructed you to get out fairy land, you did. You were called delusion by your friends throughout adolescence, and you're teachers feared your expectations in life were always too high.

You remember the first time your parents told you the story of how they met. In your mind it was a romantic story, two doctors meeting together for the first time in the hospital, locking eyes and blushing furiously when their fingers touched through gloved during a high-risk heart transplant surgery. So when they mentioned that it was mere 'marriage of convenience' type relationship to you, your belief of love at first sight hit the iceberg of reality and sunk. Sunk deep.

So mustering the courage shouldn't be that difficult, right? Love doesn't exist...

The first step into the hospital room felt like walking into every exam hall you've ever entered in your entire life merged into 1...times 10. Nerve-wracking was an understatement.

Your goal was to just lie and act at his wife, play pretend and hope Simon plays along with it. It's all acting.

A marriage of convenience, you could say.

"Hey, Si-"

Your breath breaks, cutting off your own words as your eyes lock with Simon's. The room seems to shrink, and the bustling noise from the hospital corridor fades into the background. Simon's gaze is intense, his usual stoic expression softening for a brief moment. It's something the doctor and the soldier haven't seen, given the 5 years of knowing SImon.

He reaches an arm out, without speaking a word.

"Oh, erm." Taking his hand, he gently drags you, motioning you to sit on the chair beside his bed. Small electric shocks course through his fingertips and into yours, a warm feeling bubbling through your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way his eyes lock onto you, as his fingers gently caress your hand.

Simon’s grip tightens ever so slightly as you sit down, his touch simultaneously reassuring and questioning. You swallow hard, nerves prickling your skin. It feels like a minute has passes by the 2 spectators in the room feel like their watching a slow-burn romance movie.

The soldier clears his throat, breaking the silence. "We’ll give you two some privacy," he says, gesturing for the doctor to follow him out. As the door clicks shut behind them, the heavy silence continues to fall over the room.

Simon’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gesture that feels both foreign and familiar. His mask of stoicism cracks, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath. "I didn’t think you’d come," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. Your heart rate increases with every word he speaks, the hints of his northern accent peaking through the harshness of his voice.

You smile. "Well, here I am," you reply, attempting to sound casual despite the thundering of your heart. "Guess I couldn't ignore the call of duty." Your attempt of a pathetic joke makes him grin.

Simon interlocks his fingers with yours, and you swear your body changes to manual breathing. "SImon...You don't have to act, they're not here..." You mumble.

Simon chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, usually so guarded, now seem to search yours for something unspoken. "I'm not acting... and...I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What for?" Both of your hands gently hold Simon's and you notice the way just one of his hands dwarf both of yours.

"That day...the last day. I tried to come, I swear, love. I was late-"

"I waited for you Simon." You blankly state. Simon freezes at the slight frustration in your voice, "I waited so long for you, hell, the teachers nearly kicked me out."

Simon nodding understandably, grinning slightly at the thought.

"I know. I asked our form tutor, missed ya by 15 minut-"

"Then why didn't you call me Simon? Hm?"

The lack of response let's you continue, the heat from your hands warming Simon's.

"I called you, I texted, I reached out to your friends-"

"-but it's difficult when I had none, right?" Simon cuts you off, his eyes urging you to look at the situation from his perspective, "The moment I saw you in that classroom on that first day, you were the only person that smiled at me. When I forgot my lunch, it was you that shared with me by your desks. Fuck, it's always been you, and I was too fucking embarrassed with myself to even be around someone as perfect as you."

Simon squeezes your hand as he continues.

"I didn't want you to be seen with me, because...you deserved better, love. You've always had. Good grades, good school, good life, didn't was you to be dragged down by a dick like me." He huffs out, turning away, "Signed up for the military that day, y'know. Remember when you said you wanted to just give up on your dreams of uni and jus' join the army. Just use all your frustrations on a gun or sumthing... I bulked up over that very summer."

You stifle a warm tear as it escapes and runs down your cheek.

"Wanted to be someone for you, swear down. So I signed up for the military...and I- that day. I was going to tell you...and ask you out."

Raising your eyebrows, you feel the atmosphere shifting, he continues.

"Yeah," Simon chuckles, reminiscing, "Wrote a letter cos I didn' know how to get my feelins across. But uh, I was too late. And when I asked your friend, and they told me you were moving out for uni...I just thought it was better to let my feelins die out. Didn't wan to drag you down any further..." He mumbles the last part.

A mix of emotions flood through you as Simon's words settle in the room. The weight of the years apart, the misunderstandings, and the unspoken feelings hang in the air. You take a deep breath, wiping away the tear that escaped earlier.

"Simon," you begin softly, your voice trembling with a blend of sadness and hope. "You never dragged me down. If anything, I felt lost without you."

Simon's gaze shifts back to you, eyes searching for any hint of resentment or anger. Instead, he finds warmth and understanding, a look he's not seen in years. "I thought you'd be better off without me. That you'd move on and find someone who could give you everything I couldn't."

"But I never wanted someone else," you confess, your voice firm despite the quiver in your heart. "I wanted you, Simon. Even when you weren't there, I kept hoping you'd come back. Do you know how many times I've looked at my phone hoping it was you that was calling me?"

Simon laughs, moving ever so slightly closer to you, his thumb continuing to stroke your hand, his touch grounding you both in the present moment. He takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

"I'm here now," he says finally, his voice steady. "And I'll call you ever chance I get. Don't want to waste any more time."

You squeeze his hand in response, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Neither do I."

Simon presses a chaste kiss against your forehead and you lean against him.

"The name Riley really does suit you, y'know." Simon whispering into your hair.

"One step at a time, Si." You whisper back, burying your smirk into the crook of his neck.

Maybe your parents were wrong, maybe love at first sight does exist.

Outside the room, the 2 men straight in awe at the couple. The doctor sighs, "No more trouble in paradis-"

The solider nudges the doctor, "You wish that was you, huh."

me rn

tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk, @spankmydepression, @yourfavbabigirl

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #ghost #ghost angst #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon angst #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff

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superstarcherrycolagirl · 1 year ago

Text

taken care of

benny cross x fem!reader/ 1k words

idea: your leaving work, but you’re being bothered. luckily you have company

tw: harassment, swearing, threats

notes: ok so this has been an idea of mine for A WHILE so i tried writing it out. think of that scene from the bikeriders after benny ended up in the hospital after literally getting clocked and the whole squad pulled up to the bar after that, it’s basically that but way more chill!! that scene was so hot ngl so i wanted to write about it:)) here it is

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

being benny’s girl doesn’t only mean gaining the mutual respect of the club and its members, but shown the same amount of care and protection as the bikers themselves.

you were just trying to leave work and go home, the 9-5 work shift literally left you exhausted, but this college boy would not leave you alone!

“can i take you for a ride sweetheart? i can take you back to mine to really get to know you” his obnoxious masculinity oozing out of him. he waited for a whole hour your shift to end, literally eye-fucking you the entire time as he kept shifting in his pants. what an animal you thought, you wanted to yell at him and humiliate him in front of other library goers so he can learn some manners. but you kept calm, you didn’t need to be scared.

“oh no thank you i’m alright! my ride’s just outside” you declined politely, which took a lot of strength for you to.

you’re walking out the door, ponytail swaying back and forth. “aw c’mon lil lady don’t be so shy! i can show you a real good ti-“ the boy couldn’t even finish his stupid sentence before stopping abruptly. the loud roar of rumbling engines sounding filled up the silent library. you’ve never seen anyone get so pale in the face.

you walk outside the door, the boy to follow, to see the fear-striking pack of bikers waiting outside the library doors.. waiting for you. you could spot wahoo, corky, and cockroach near each other, snacking on some gum and cigarettes. funny sonny was saying some shit to zipco and cal, whatever it was made them all send death glares to the shaking boy right next to you. johnny and bruice were checking out this boy, wondering if he would even stand a punch if he tried to lay a hand on you. and benny, bike stand kicked up and leaning back with a cigarette in hand, looked up right at you with nothing but love in his eyes.. and the slightest want to kill this filthy pig beside you on site.

you walk down to the club calmly, your flowy white blouse moving against your deep blue jeans, smiling sweetly at your family as you walked up to benny to peak him on the mouth. that poor boy knew he was screwed just by witnessing how all the bikeriders demeanors shifted to your presence. he was on the verge of vomiting once they looked back at him.

as you were getting on benny’s bike you took a glance up at the terrified boy, wondering why the hell he was still here. you were gonna say something to him, until you were interrupted.

“you wanna ride pretty boy? s’that what you wanted to ask?” benny said in a cocky tone, but you could hear the faint growl rumbling in his chest.

“n-no sir.. i just wanted to talk to this nice lady over her-“ that’s when you popped in quickly, but it did much more damage.

“oh so that’s why you wanted to to jump my bones a’few moments ago hm? to say somethin’ nice t’me?” you said it in your sweet tone of voice, but the adrenaline rising inside of you drenched your words in sarcasm. that caught everyone’s attention so fast, and in an instant everything became so loud.

“s’that so pretty boy?” johnny chimed in first “well you might need some help from us.. to learn how to treat a lady with real manners” his knuckle punching rings tightening tightening into a fist. “we’ll take care of ya’”

“yeah i’ll take care a’him by knocking his fuckin’ teeth down his throat!” cal yelled out, you could steam a teapot on his head from how riled up he was, he almost jumped that poor boy if it weren’t for zipco holding him back by the arm.

funny sonny loudly sounded his engine to make this boy shriek, which led some others to join in with cackles. “c’mon pinko! show us what you got, don’t be shy!” zipco chirped with a guttural laugh, increasing the blush and sweat on the embarrassed college boys’ face. that boy looked so frightened that you though he was gonna cry. ashamed. humiliated.

you could feel benny’s muscles tensing up against your chest, how he was just moments away from seconding cals’ idea. but he stayed right where you were, right where he was needed to keep you safe. everyone was there to keep you safe.

“get the fuck outta here you scum-fuck!” “don’t shit yourself on the way out pretty face!” wahoo and corky vulgarly gleamed, and that left the boy with one more glance at you, trying to send you a smile. not before benny sounded his engine roughly, a back the fuck off kind of signal that almost knocked they boy off his feet. and with that he ran down the block and turned the corner, knowing you wouldn’t see his face again anytime soon.

as everyone was gearing up while laughing, benny softly spoke to you. “you alright baby?” “i’m alright benny..thank you honey” he didn’t even need to say anything, giving the side your right thigh a good squeeze before kicking up his stick. you smiled against his back, that’s gonna need a good wash.

“you’re okay sweetheart, we’ll take care of ya’” that was johnny’s voice that rang. you and benny turned to him, relieved looks on both of your faces. “i mean it doll, always” he was firm with his words, and you could only smile back at him.

and with that, you and the dozens of bikes beside you took off down the road.

what a way to call it a day.

#EEEEEEEK #yappathon #i love being a freak #austin butler #austin butler x reader #benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders x reader #tom hardy #johnny from the bikeriders

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torueater · 3 months ago

Text

rush hr ⭑.ᐟ

⋆ ꩜ ⋆ pairing: coworker husband!nanami x reader

wc: 1210+ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: attempt at a ficlet/drabble whatever 🙌 first spark of non angst inspo in a week, i love husband nanami i'm gonna scream

Your bed somehow always feels warmer on the days where you actually have important things to do, it’s almost infuriating.

The first thing you register on rising out of hours of unconsciousness is warmth and the weight of corded muscles against your frame without much separation. You’d somehow gotten tangled up with your husband again in your sleep despite him running far hotter than you do – great.

Against your current wishes to sink back into sweet slumber, you crack an eye open, head tilting to glance back at a half dressed Nanami. Already in his dress pants and undershirt (cheater). Thick arms remain banded around your waist under the covers, fingers rubbing the lightest circles into your stomach. He’s clearly not in much of a rush to move, chin propped up on your head watching the food channel. Which is funny, considering you both should’ve been up fifteen minutes ago.

“Kento,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

"Eight thirty," he says, without looking down, hands sweeping lightly up and down your midsection in soothing motions, “We’ll be late if you don’t get up now.”

And his tone is so casual, as though you don’t have to be at work for 9:10 at the latest inclusive of the 10 minute grace period.

You groan and try to bury yourself back into the pillow, tugging the covers closer to your body, “Five more minutes.”

“See, I’d allow it if this wasn’t the second time you’ve asked for an extra five minutes in the last half hour.”

You breath out a low groan, rolling to face him properly, “Mm..” In your defense, he tucks you closer like you’re meant to be there almost immediately, how are you supposed to want to leave bed when he’s doing all of that? “I meant fifteen more minutes the last time. I may have misspoken.”

He hums as though he understands where you’re coming from, fingers playing in your hair and massaging your scalp, thumbs circling over your temples with the lightest pressure. It’s dangerously easy to stay like this.

He barely looks away from his little cooking show too, seemingly allowing this extra five minutes as though the two of you aren’t meant to be getting ready now. The sheets shift as he dips to press a kiss to the side of your head, warmth lost as he slides away from you and out of bed. “5 more minutes. Then I’m waking you up.” You hum your acceptance, already half asleep and waving him off, curling into the warm spot he’d left.

⊹.✮₊⋆

“C’mon, Nanami. Time to get up.” It feels like a only 2 minutes have passed when Kento’s back bugging you, large hands sliding under where you’re rolled in the covers to hoist you up like a burrito, ivory sheets still around your frame. “Kento..” You groan, cracking an eye at him, brows knitted at the center. “Why are you kidnapping me? Hasn’t even five minutes yet.”

“Wrong, it’s been six. I made you coffee.” You hum, eyes still shut, turning your face into shirt covered shoulder. The sheet falls a little loose on your frame when he sets you down on the barstool up against the counter, free hand sliding a steaming cup in your direction. “You looked too pretty sleeping, I gave you an extra minute out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Mm, thank you husband. Ever the generous being.” You take a long sip out of the steaming cup – 2 sugars and a splash of creamer like you always take it. You glance over to the clock fixed on the wall just as it changes to 8:39 “Shit. I should’ve gotten out of bed the first time.”

He laughs that time, low and rich, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I thought this would happen, so I set out your clothes last night. Lunch is already packed.”

You glance up at him over the rim of the mug as you take another long sip, heart stupidly full. Of course he’d go and prep your outfit and lunch for you, it’s so like him. “You’re just the sweetest, aren’t you? I could marry you right now.”

He’s already shrugging his blazer on, leaning down to your height to drop yet another kiss on you – right at the top of your head this time, “Already did. Your suit’s over the chair in the bedroom, lunch is in the fridge. Go get ready.”

⊹.✮₊⋆

The next ten minutes feel like the shortest ten minutes of your life – you’d showered in the early morning after rolling about in the sheets with him, so you don’t feel too icky taking a shorter shower. Your hair isn’t much to deal with, pulling off the layer of silk keeping it protected, merely needing to fix some stray strands. Brushing your teeth so you don’t have bad breath? Check. Makeup? Check, even if it’s a bit rushed. Not having to pick out an outfit makes things so much easier, slipping into your suit suspiciously close in colour to Nanami’s. You barely have time to question it, already being walked out the door with a hand low on your back and both your lunch bags in your hold.

By some miracle (aka, Nanami going just a little above the speed limit) you both make it to the office with three minutes to spare.

He’s already expected for a meeting at the beginning of the workday, the elevator ride being the last you’d see of him for a bit you guess. His hands straighten out your collars and lapels like he can’t help it on the way up, brushing your hair out of your face.

You’d barely gone your separate ways before you’re pulling your phone out to shoot him a text.

[you]

9:02 am

Dearest husband, did you match our outfits on purpose?

[kento kento 🥸]

9:03 am

Did I?

I labeled the bowls in the kit. Hopefully the interns don’t steal it this time.

As if labels would stop someone’s will to steal. The effort is appreciated though.

[you]

9:03 am

How scandalous. What will the workers think of the VP matching with his worker?

[kento kento 🥸]

9:04 am

Sweetheart, I doubt they'll notice. They’re technically two different shades of blue, yours is lighter.

Also, I don’t really care. You’re my wife.

So much for no flirting at work. You don't even hide your grinning and internal swooning all the way to your desk from the message alone.

#torueater ୨ৎ #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #husband nanami #im gonna kiss him #sfw #5th post #you took his surname #just to clarify #jujitsu kaisen #horrible at naming sorry

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persevereforahappyending · 1 year ago

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A Legacies Secret |2|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You let out a sigh, finally clocking out for the night. It had been a busy night. To some it might seem weird for a bar to be so busy during the week but for some reason Woodsboro had a lot of alcoholics. You weren’t complaining though, they tipped pretty well and were the reason you could afford an apartment. If it weren’t for the tips, you would be living out of your car most likely, or more likely, unofficially, living with Tara when her mom wasn’t home, which was often.

After starting your car, you pulled out your phone, opening your messages with Tara. You hadn’t heard from her since your phone call earlier in the night. Tara knew you were at work, but she still had a habit of messaging you throughout your shift. You furrowed your brow, seeing all the messages you sent still showed that they had been delivered but hadn’t been read yet. You had an uneasy feeling, it wasn’t like Tara to not answer you, she always answered. You weren’t trying to panic though.

Y/N: Still good?

Y/N: Did you already fall asleep?

Y/N: Going to be a little later than expected

Y/N: On my way

You sent one last text, trying to calm your nerves. Everything was probably fine. Tara probably called over Amber or one of the others and they just got caught up watching movies. It wouldn’t be the first time you got to her place, and she was still up with one of her friends or all of them, watching movies. Sometimes you got to her place, and you shook your head at the sight of them all passed on the couch, popcorn bowl tipped over and mouths hung open as the movie continued to play.

Tara’s house wasn’t too far from your place of employment but when you turned down the street you were met with flashing lights and police cars lining the street. There were multiple cop cars parked outside of your girlfriend’s house. You slowly drove up, parking on the side of the street as you watched an officer pull out yellow police tape, taping off the front door.

As soon as you were parked you jumped out of the car, and ran across the yard, not caring about any of the police. You were under the first set of caution tape and halfway across the yard when strong arms wrapped around you, holding you back.

“You can’t be here,” a gruff voice said.

“No!” you screamed. “What happened?” you thrashed against the man, trying to get out of his hold.

“This is an active crime scene,” he said again when he finally put you down, on the other side of the yellow tape.

You stared up at the officer. He had his arms crossed, staring you down to make sure you didn’t try and rush past him again. You huffed, glaring at him. Despite knowing you’d fail you still lunged at the man, trying to get around the tape again. He was quick to grab you and keep you from passing.

“What part of active crime scene do you not understand?” he said, clearly irritated.

“What happened?” you asked again. You peered around the officer, your eyes darting all around the house, searching for any signs of Tara.

“Can’t say, it’s an active investigation.”

“Is Tara alright?”

“Kid, go home before I have you arrested.”

“This is my girlfriend’s house! I have to know if she’s alright. Is she okay?” Your breathing was becoming rapid. You weren’t sure if the fact that you couldn’t see Tara anywhere was a good sign or a bad one.

“Don’t make me arrest you.”

You were about to give the officer a piece of your mind when out of the corner of your eye you saw the sheriff. “Sheriff!” you yelled, directing your full attention to her. “Sheriff! Sheriff Hicks!”

“Kid, get out of here,” the officer got in your line of sight again.

“Sheriff!” You ducked under the police tape, avoiding the officers’ arms as he tried to grab you. “Sheriff!”

“Alright, that’s it.” The officer grabbed you, pushing you into the grass as he yanked your arms behind your back, handcuffing you.

“Sheriff Hicks!” you continued to yell as the officer hauled you to your feet and began to drag you to a cop car as you continued to fight against him. “Judy!” you let out in another desperate scream, finally gaining her attention.

Judy was holding a clipboard, talking to another officer when she finally looked up, looking around to see who was yelling her name until her eyes finally landed on you. You didn’t need to be close to know she had let out a deep sigh and if she didn’t roll her eyes, she was definitely holding one in. Judy made her way across the lawn towards you. The officer was trying to push you in a cop car when she finally got over to you.

“It’s okay deputy,” Judy said. “I got this one.”

“Are you sure?” the deputy questioned. “She’s a wild one sheriff.” He narrowed his eyes at you, and you just scoffed at him.

“Yes, go help the others.” Judy watched as the deputy walked off before facing you again. “Turn around.”

“What happened?” you asked as you did as she asked. “Where’s Tara?” You kept trying to turn around, trying to look at Judy as she took the cuffs off your wrists.

“Where have you been?” Judy asked, ignoring your question.

You quickly turned around when you felt the handcuffs leave your wrists. You started rubbing your wrists, though it had only been a moment the jerk of a deputy had put the cuffs on pretty tight. “Is Tara, okay?” you asked again, searching Judy’s face for any clues. Judy was clearly being kinder, but you could tell she was in full on cop mode, something bad definitely happened.

“Where were you earlier tonight?”

She wasn’t answering your questions, she was actively ignoring all your questions actually. “Is she-” your voice cracked, cutting yourself off by trying to contain a sob, your mind immediately going to the worst.

“She’s alive,” Judy said softly, resting a hand on your shoulder.

You relaxed for the first time since pulling up to the house, letting out a relieved sigh. “What happened? Where is she?”

“She was attacked.” Your breathing started to become rapid, your heartbeat was the only thing you could focus on. “Where were you tonight?”

“Where is she? Is she okay?” your eyes darted around the scene, seeing police tape, officers, red and blue flashing lights, the front door wide open. There was no ambulance but there was also no Tara.

“She’s at the hospital. Probably in surgery by now.” You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to contain your sob. Tara was attacked. Tara was attacked bad enough to be rushed to the hospital and in need of surgery. You couldn’t begin to imagine who would ever even want to attack Tara, if this was some sort of break in gone wrong. “I really need you to answer my questions.”

“Can we do it at the hospital?” you asked, needing to be near her even if you couldn’t see her. “Please? Please?” you begged. Judy looked at you and finally gave a sympathetic nod. “Thank you,” you whispered, before following her to her police cruiser.

The ride to the hospital was the longest of your life even though the hospital was only a few minutes away. When you got there, you trailed behind the sheriff, suddenly nervous, terrified of the news you might be walking into. Judy guided you to a seat in the waiting room while she went to the front desk. Your eyes never left the sheriff, watching as she whispered to the nurse. When Judy finished her conversation, she took the seat across from you.

“She’s still in surgery,” Judy whispered softly. You buried your head in your hands. You should have been there. You should have been there with her. You jumped when you felt a hand rest on your knee. “I need to ask you some questions.” Judy rubbed your knee for comfort. “Okay?”

You nodded, lifting your head from your hands. You wiped at your eyes, wiping away the tears before they could begin to fall. You cleared your throat, straightening your back as you prepared for her questions. You knew she had a job to do. You knew she had to ask you questions simply because you were Tara’s girlfriend and that automatically made you a suspect if anything happened. You decided to focus on helping in any way you could and would try not to be offended or defensive about the questions she may have.

“Where were you between 9pm and 10pm?” Judy asked. She leaned back in her chair, pulling out her notepad but never losing her warmth.

“Work,” you rasped out. “I got there at five and was there until I got to Tara’s.”

“Will others be able to confirm this?”

You nodded. “Yeah, in fact my boss yelled at me for talking to Tara. There were customers throughout the night and some that were there my entire shift.”

Judy nodded, writing everything down in her notepad. “You talked to Tara?” her pen froze mid whatever she was writing.

“Yeah.” You scrunched your eyebrows not sure how that was relevant. “She called.”

“What time was that?”

“We were just starting to get busy so…” you tried to think back to just a few hours ago. You hadn’t really looked at the time and now there were a lot more pressing matters on your mind. “Probably just before nine thirty.” Judy sucked in a breath before dropping her eyes back down to her notepad, quickly scribbling down the new information. “Why?”

“What did you talk about?”

You scrunched your eyebrows again. “She was bored, she wanted me to entertain her.” You smiled thinking back to your conversation, back to when everything was normal. “We discussed the future, and I said I would come over when I got off.”

“Nothing was off?”

“Of course not,” you frowned. “Why? What don’t I know?”

Judy cleared her throat, trying to hide any of the emotions she might be feeling. “It seems Tara was texting Amber.” You tilted your head, you might not have liked Amber, but they were best friends, it wasn’t surprising Tara would text her if you couldn’t come over. “Someone cloned Ambers number to make it seem like Tara was talking to her, but they were using it to distract her. At the same time Tara answered an unknown number on the landline.” You blinked a few times, trying to clear your mind, trying to figure out what Judy was saying. “Based on the timeline it was minutes after you got off the phone with her.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart shattering. When you had talked to Tara, she had been okay, she had been safe. Maybe if you had stayed on the phone with her nothing would have happened, maybe you could have helped.

“What are you saying?” you shot to your feet, beginning to pace back and forth. “You’re saying someone toyed with her? Someone planned this?” you gripped your head, trying to make it make sense. “Why would someone do that? Who would do that? Who would want to hurt Tara?” you looked to Judy for answers, tears already threatening to fall.

“Tara was still conscious when my deputies got there,” Judy said slowly, keeping her voice even. “As she was being loaded into the ambulance, she said the person who attacked her was wearing a Ghostface mask.”

Your face paled. You lived in Woodsboro, of course you knew the story of Ghostface. You believe you saw the first movie a long time ago, but they weren’t really your thing, you honestly only watched horror movies when Tara did, and she wasn’t into Stab. You had never read any of the books either, they didn’t appeal to you. You heard the basics of the attacks though; you remembered seeing the 2011 killings on the news, you had been in sixth grade, and it was pretty big gossip at the time.

Despite your lack of knowledge there were two things you knew about Ghostface, two things all of them had in common. The victims of Ghostface were always connected to whoever was Ghostface or connected to his true target. That’s where you were lost, Tara wasn’t connected to anyone from the previous killings. Tara wasn’t connected to Sidney Prescott in anyway and she wasn’t connected to any of the past killers. Tara was chosen as this Ghostface’s first victim though, there had to be a reason.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you whispered, slumping back down in the chair.

“I’ve only ever been through this once,” Judy said, pocketing her notepad. “From my experience though, I can say that it rarely does. There’s no logic to people like this.”

Before anything else could be said you caught sight of a white lab coat out of the corner of your eye. You shot to your feet again, turning to face the doctor as he approached. Judy followed, standing behind you and giving a comforting rub to your back as you waited for what the doctor had to say.

“How is she?” Judy asked.

“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor said. “She was stabbed seven times.” You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to hold back the sob. “Once through the hand.” Your tears finally fell. “She also has a broken leg.”

“Will she be, okay?” you managed to ask, trying to control your sobs.

“It’ll take some time. A lot of rehab. But she’ll live.”

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Tara was alive and that’s all that mattered. “Can I see her?”

“Are you family?”

You scoffed. “I’m her girlfriend.” You knew it was hospital policy or whatever, but you would lose it if he didn’t let you in to see Tara for yourself.

“I’m sorry, visiting hours are over and only family is allowed to stay the night.”

You opened your mouth to argue with the man but stopped when you felt Judy’s arm leave your back, she stepped forward, so she was almost between you and the doctor. “Her mother is out of town,” Judy said softly. “She’s the closest thing the girl has. Surely you can make an exception doc.” The doctor didn’t look convinced, he looked like he was about to deny Judy as well. “Look, doctor, I get it’s your policy,” she smiled brightly. “But if you don’t let her into that room, she will be sleeping in your waiting room and harassing the nurses until she can get in.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes at Judy, but she just smiled sweetly at him. The doctor glanced at you, and you could only shrug and nod your head. It was true, you wouldn’t leave the hospital and you wouldn’t sleep until you could see Tara, therefore you would spend time annoying the nurses who probably had better things to do than listening to you.

“Fine,” the doctor said begrudgingly. “I’ll show you to her room.”

“Thank you,” you whispered to Judy.

Judy smiled, giving a small nod in return. “I have a deputy on the way, they’ll be outside Tara’s room until this bastard is caught.” You nodded, knowing that the guy who attacked Tara was still out there and would most likely come back, most Ghostface’s didn’t like when their victims lived. “I know I probably don’t have to say this but, don’t leave town.”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I don’t intend to leave Tara’s side.”

“I figured,” Judy smiled at you, before taking her a seat again. “I’ll be right here until the deputy arrives.”

You gave her one last nod before following the doctor to Tara’s room. You knew she was alive, and you knew of her injuries, but your leg bounced the entire elevator ride. The doctor didn’t say anything as he led you through the empty halls until he finally came to a stop. He gestured to the door, and you whispered a small thank you to him as you rested your hand on the handle. You took a deep breath before pushing down on the handle and entered the room, quietly closing the door behind you.

Your eyes instantly filled with tears again as you saw the state of Tara. She was asleep, lying in the hospital bed. Her right leg was in a large boot and her left hand was all wrapped up; she even had an oxygen tube in her nose. You slowly moved to her bedside, looking down at your girlfriend, noticing how small she looked in the hospital bed.

You rested a hand on top of her head, running your fingers through her hair as you bent down giving her forehead a kiss. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

You quickly wiped away your tears, making your way around to the other side of her bed. You took a seat, moving it closer to her bedside. You were on the side with her injured hand, meaning as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t hold it as you waited for her to wake up, but this side was the only side that gave you a full visual of the door. Tara already got attacked once when you weren’t with her, you wouldn’t let that happen again.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream 5 #scream v #a legacies secret

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starrihan · 6 months ago

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100 Percent (Jay Fic)

-> Pairing: Jay x afab! Reader

-> Plot: You work at a bar and you frequently see this customer you have developed a crush on and decide to ask him for a generous tip

-> Genre: smut, business man! Jay x bar tender! Reader, dom! Jay, sub! Reader, fingering, oral (f. receiving), piv sex, no protection (wrap it up), alcohol and drinking,

-> Ft. Natty from Kiss of Life, Huening Kai from TXT, all the enha boys minus Sunoo and Niki

-> Warnings: none

-> Word Count: 6,800

-> Notes: not proofread! I was having a bit of trouble ending the fic so if it seems rushed or bad its cuz I couldn't figure out how to end it

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

Tonight was just another average night for you. You had a closing shift at the bar, which you preferred over the morning shift. Seeing the time close in on 5:30 p.m, you opted to grab a snack before touching up your makeup and fixing your shirt, making sure your cleavage was slightly exposed– the best way to earn tips from sleazy men.

The bar was within walking distance, only being about a 5 minute walk away. You liked this job, it provided good money. Although it wasn’t the most conventional, it was pretty easy for the most part, and the tips were an added bonus. You had a few regulars, ones that you could rely on to make good money.

After flunking out of college, you didn’t really have many options on what to do for work. You didn’t want to go back home, your parents would just give you a hard time. You didn’t want to go back to school, you flunked out for a reason. So you settled for this.

You slipped out of your small apartment, grabbing a coffee from a nearby cafe before making your way to the bar. You clock in and start your shift.

“Y/N!! I’m so glad you’re here! This shift has been rough,”

Your co-worker, Natty, sighed.

“First, a drunk guy spilled his drink all over me and I couldn’t even change because it was busy. It was at 3 pm and it’s Saturday! Then, like an hour later these guys started fighting over a tab. Kai had to help me break them up and they both paid but neither of them left a tip.”

“Damn, that’s brutal. At least you get to leave now right?” You try to ease her pain a little. She just looks at you and sighs again, wiping down the table before going to clock out.

Saturdays were the busiest days at the bar. You were thankful that your other co-worker, Kai, was working with you tonight. You could always rely on him to break up fights and keep customers at bay. Even though his looks were youthful, he was big and buff, which often intimidated the obnoxious drunk men that would hit on you or give you a hard time.

Mentally preparing yourself for the shift, it started off calm. There was always a slow period between 5-7 o’clock, as most people were out eating dinner or deemed it too early to start drinking. It was after that time that the flow of customers increased. You were steady making drinks for your customers, engaging in some small talk here and there, making sure to flirt a little.

It was a little closer to 9 pm when you saw 4 men walk in. You didn’t think much of it until they took the 4 seats right in front of you. All 4 of them were handsome, but the one in the middle caught your eye. His hair was slicked back, two pieces falling at the side of his face. They were all dressed pretty formally, they had probably just come after an event. You didn’t think much of it.

“What can I get started for you handsome boys?”

The tallest guy with red hair spoke up,

“Can we get 4 whiskey sours please?”

“4 whiskey sours, got it”

You said, getting started on the drinks and opening a tab for them. You looked up from making the first two for a moment, noticing that the one you were eyeing before was looking at you. He gave you a quick smile. You finish making the drinks and set them all in front of the men. The one with longer black hair giving you a quick ‘thank you.’ He had a cute accent.

One by one, they ordered more drinks. The red haired one and the one with the accent were red in the face, indicating that they were drunk. The other 2 guys seemed fine, the taller one was the quiet one amongst them, quietly sipping on his drinks and listening to the others' conversation.

“Excuse me, um…? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name but can I close out the tab?”

The guy with the slicked back hair asked, black card in hand.

“My name’s Y/N. And yes, I can close out your tab for you.”

You take his card, fingers brushing ever so slightly. You swipe it and give it back to him.

“Thank you, Jay”

You say, glancing at the name on the card. He chuckles before putting it away. The other guys patted his shoulders and gave him loud thanks for paying for their drinks tonight.

“You guys have all had something to drink tonight, do you need to call an uber or are you walking home?”

“Oh no, we have our friend coming to pick us up. We’re waiting for him.”

He glances down at the receipt, specifically the tip section.

“How much do you want as a tip?”

You were thrown off at the question, never having been asked that before. You didn’t want to come off rude or ungrateful. He looks up at you when you don’t respond after a few seconds.

“It's not a trick question. The bill came out to $73.”

You look at him, realizing he wasn't joking.

“$27? Make it an even $100?”

He laughs before writing it down on the receipt before handing it back to you.

“Be more confident in your answer next time. Have a good night.”

He shoots you a wink before walking out with his friends. You look down at the receipt and smile, blushing at his wink.

“Do we think he’s cute?”

Kai nudges your shoulder with his, joking around with you.

“He’s cute.”

Is all you say back to him. You hope you’ll see him there again.

༄ ༄ ༄

The next couple days go by like normal. Going out in the mornings, hanging out with friends and coming back to your apartment before 3 p.m to get ready for your shift.

The next time you see Jay was on another night shift on a Saturday. It had been two weeks since you last saw him. Normally, you wouldn’t remember people who you’d only seen once, but you couldn’t get him out of your head. He took a seat a little further away than where he had sat last time.

“Welcome back Jay. What can I get started for ya?”

He smiled at the fact that you remembered his name. He looked even better today. He was wearing formal clothes again, but this time a suit instead of a button up like last time. He was also by himself.

“Just an old fashioned please, thanks.”

You nod your head, making the drink in front of him. You hand it to him before imploring about his suit.

“Did you have a party or event tonight?”

“Just a work event. My friends and I all work at this company. The end of the year always has many events, awards ceremonies and such.”

“I see. You look good.”

You walk away from him, tending to another customer, but you don’t miss the smirk on his face as you walk off. For the rest of the night, Jay only orders drinks from you. It’s nearing 12 a.m again, when Jay calls you over to close his tab.

When you hand him back the receipt, you anticipate that he’ll ask you how much to tip again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he adds a 50% tip.

“Thank you for the drinks tonight Y/N. I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good night Jay.”

He gives you another wink before leaving the bar. He only had about $12 worth of drinks. You wondered why he was in here by himself. Maybe he just wanted to be alone? You brushed it off, finishing your duties for the rest of night before heading home.

༄ ༄ ༄

Over the past few months, this became routine. Jay would come in almost every other week, mostly dressed up, so you knew he had come there from work. Other times he was just out with his friends for a casual Saturday night out. You got to know him and his friends a little better.

Heeseung, the one with red hair, who would try and crack jokes with you every now and then. Jake, the one with the accent, who would playfully flirt with you, but it was all good fun. And Sunghoon, the quiet one that would space out a lot. He didn't drink too much and would contribute to conversation here and there, but he was mostly there for his friends. And of course, Jay, who you learned was the head of the office that he worked at, his friends working alongside him. He was sweet and funny, making jokes and making his friends laugh. And he always paid for their drinks. He always tipped 50% no matter how big or small the bill was. He was also your favorite customer.

“Hey Y/N!”

You looked over and realized it was Jake that had called your name.

“Yes? Do you need a refill?”

“Haha, no. I was gonna ask if you could take a shot with us? Jay just got promoted, so we’re here to celebrate him tonight!”

You look over and see Jay looking away from you, a very faint blush and big smile on his face.

“Normally I’m not allowed to drink on the job, but I guess I can make an exception for tonight,”

You said, preparing 5 shot glasses. You turn to Jay,

“Pick your poison,”

Something about the way you had looked at him and agreed to take a shot to celebrate him had Jay feeling excited. The look you gave him going straight to his dick.

“Vodka”

You raise your eyebrows at him and pour the vodka into the shot glasses.

“This one’s on me,”

You say. The boys beside Jay cheered and clinked their glasses together, which you did as well. They all laughed while you took the glasses back, but Jay couldn’t stop staring at you. The way you sauntered off with the glasses had him captivated. You return to see him staring at you.

“Congratulations Jay. I’m sure you deserve the promotion you got,”

Was the last thing you said to him before walking off to someone else. He couldn’t tell if you were flirting with him or just being nice and he couldn’t tell if it was because you meant it or because it was part of your job.

“You should just go ask her out already. If you keep staring she’s gonna think you’re a creep,”

Sunghoon piped up after noticing that Jay didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Mind your business Sunghoon,”

He spit back.

He couldn’t explain why seeing you talk to other men– paying customers who you had to service– would make him jealous. While you didn’t have to flirt with them, you wanted to make more tips. Plus, you were single, so to you, it didn’t matter if you had meaningless flirtations with people that had no significance to you. But to Jay, it was like you were cheating on him. He knew it was a stretch, he knew that you weren’t his to claim. But with the way you acted towards him, he couldn’t help but think that you wanted him like he wanted you.

Over the last few months, Jay’s friends had gotten to know about his little crush on you. They would always tease him when you would walk away and even on nights that they knew he was going to the bar. At first, it was a coincidence that you were bartending the nights he would come in. But soon, he would come just to see you. He hasn’t had a crush on someone in a while and forgot what it was like to have one. But he knew he had a crush on you, and he wanted to pursue it.

It was close to closing time and you had been called over by the boys again.

“Hey, Y/N! We’d like to close our tab please!”

It was Sunghoon that had called you over this time. You noticed that Jay had gotten up, probably going to the bathroom.

“Whose card is it on tonight? Surely you’re not gonna make Jay pay for it, right?”

“Of course not! This one’s on me!”

Jake said, handing you his card.

“This is what Jay would have tipped you,”

He remarks, doubling the bill.

“Normally I would think his usual 50% is too much but 100%? That’s crazy, I can’t accept that.”

“Please just take it. This is what he would have tipped if he was paying tonight, and he would kill me if he found out I was doing this for him but just take it.”

You didn’t want to fight him on it, the sentiment making you blush. You would have to thank him personally. But why would he tip you 100% instead of his usual 50%? You were about to ask when you noticed Jay coming back. You decided not to say anything now.

“Are you guys ready to go? Jungwon said he’s almost here!”

Jay said, wiping his wet hands on his clothes. The bathroom must have been out of napkins.

“Yeah, let's go!”

Heeseung got up, collecting all their belongings and putting on his jacket as it was getting cold out.

“Okay, you guys go ahead! I’ll pay and we can leave.”

“Don’t worry about it! I got it.”

Jake said, to which Jay looked surprised. He looked at his friends fondly, and smiled.

“Thank you.”

They all turned to you and wished you a goodnight, before filtering out of the bar. You waved them goodbye before noticing that one of them had left their wallet on the counter. You quickly grabbed it, opening it to see that it was Jay’s. You ran out of the bar, hoping that they hadn’t left yet. To your luck, you see them getting into a car down the street. You ran up to the car, slightly out of breath as it was down the road and across the street and there were a couple of cars driving by.

“Wait! You left this!”

You yell to Jay. He looks at you with concern before noticing his wallet in your hand. You hand it back to him, placing your hands on your knees to catch your breath. He helps hold you up.

“I appreciate you running out here to give me my wallet but it’s cold! Here!”

He swings his jacket over you which you grip, the cold only now setting in after the mini adrenaline rush was wearing off, causing you to shiver.

“It’s fine! I’m about to go back inside anyways, I don’t need your jacket”

“Then why are you gripping onto it like you do?”

He raised his eyebrow, tonguing his cheek before smirking at you. You glared at him before letting a small laugh slip out.

“I have enough jackets so you can have that one. Plus I’ll be back soon if you wanna give it back to me. But get back to the bar. You have to close, right?”

You nod and smile at him, saying your goodbyes before heading back to the bar. Unable to wipe the smile off your face, Natty notices and laughs.

“What, were you making out with him out there? What took you so long?”

She noticed the unfamiliar jacket adorning your shoulders.

“And you got his jacket too? He must be in love with you.”

You playfully smack her arm at her outlandish delusions.

“Oh please. I just went to return his wallet.”

“And flirt a little maybe? You know we have a lost and found here right , he could’ve come back tomorrow.”

“Well yeah but… wallets are important. He probably needs it…”

She laughs at you struggling to find an excuse.

“You have a crush on him, big deal. You know he likes you too right? Why else would he be staring at you and tipping you 50% and giving you a jacket to wear when you were only outside for 2 minutes?”

Everything she was saying to you made sense. You couldn’t help but feel a little tingle throughout your body, almost buzzing at the thought of Jay liking you back. You wouldn’t call what you felt for Jay a crush per se, but you did get giddy whenever he was coming in. You loved the way he’d stare at you and the jokes he would make. He always made you laugh. His subtle flirting would always get you a little riled up. And you couldn’t miss the little spark you’d feel whenever your hands would accidentally touch. Or the need you’d feel at the end of the night that you wouldn’t notice until after he left.

Maybe you did have a crush…

༄ ༄ ༄

It had been a couple of days since you last saw Jay, his jacket finding its place hooked up on the back of your chair. You always meant to take it down to the bar with you, but you always forgot. Today was no different, forgetting to take it with you before you slipped out of your apartment.

The cafe you usually went to was closed for the day because the owners were on vacation so you opted to go to another cafe. There was one in a business building nearby so you went to that one instead. You walk in and wait in line, giving your order like normal when you get up to the register.

“That’ll be $4.45”

“Alright, here you go,”

You say, handing the cashier the money. He puts it in the register and then stares at you for a moment.

“You look familiar… oh! You’re the girl that was giving Jay back his wallet at the bar! And the one he gave his jacket to that night!”

You smile at his bubbly personality.

“Oh right! You must be Jungwon then? I know you’re always the one that drives them back. They’re very thankful of you.”

“They better be, I have to be up early for class and work and still drive them around at 12 a.m when they’re drinking, especially now that they go so often. I’m picking them up tonight too.”

He says, rolling his eyes while you laugh at his sassy comments.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know them?”

“Oh you don’t know? They all work here, at Belift. Jay’s the COO while the rest are under him after he got the promotion. I work here at the cafe but they all come down so often I know them pretty well by now. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you about it yet.”

You were shocked to say the least. You didn’t know how successful Jay was, that he was almost CEO of a major company in your city. At such a young age too.

“We don’t really get to talk all that much since it gets busy around the time that they all come in. He did tell me about the promotion, I just didn’t know what it was for.”

You look behind you, a line having formed during your conversation.

“I should get going, I don’t wanna hold up the line. But it was nice to meet you Jungwon! And thank you again for the coffee!”

He says his goodbyes to you before you walk out the door and head to the bar. You smile to yourself at the thought of Jay being at the bar tonight. You walk into the bar and are greeted by both Kai and Natty.

“What are you both doing here?”

Usually, it’s only you and 1 other person at the bar. It was a smaller bar and while it did get popular on Saturdays, there weren't ever more people than 2 of you could handle.

“You didn’t hear? It’s the last weekend before finals, and the boss is running a special where drinks are half off for the whole night. The college students are gonna flood in here. It’s gonna be a full house tonight.”

Kai said to you, cleaning off the tables and getting new bottles prepped and ready for the incoming crowd.

“Boss said he needed all three of us here today since it was gonna be really busy. But that just means we’re gonna get more tips than ever from those college boys!”

Natty chimed up, excited about the extra money that will be made from tonight.

“Not to mention that we’re getting paid time and a half to be here today!”

You smile at them, helping them prepare for the night.

At first it’s slow. The bar opens at 5 p.m so you didn’t expect many people to be there for the first hour or two. Around 8 o’clock is when it started to get busy. And by 9 o’clock, you're slammed. There are more people than you’ve ever seen at the bar right now, even the three of you working quickly wasn’t enough.

“I’ve been waiting here for 20 minutes but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide.”

Your ears perk up at the voice flirting with you. You quickly finish your task before walking over to him.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting love, what is it that you would like?”

“Love? That's a new one. But I like it. And I’ll have my usual, pretty.”

You were so busy, it had totally slipped your mind that Jungwon had said he would be back tonight, indicating that Jay would be at the bar. Your shameless flirting had only progressed the more often you saw him. Flirting was basically in your job description, but you had never enjoyed flirting with any of your customers. Only Jay. You rung his usual, to which he gave you his card to open a tab as always. He was by himself today, which wasn’t odd, but he couldn’t get his eyes off of you. The flirting was definitely getting to him, making it harder for him to resist asking you out. You’d notice his stares burning into you, wanting him to do something about it. You felt hot under his gaze, most nights wishing he would just take you on the bar table.

You continue about your shift, relieved that it was finally slowing down close to midnight. You know that this was normally the time that Jay would leave so you were surprised when he continued to order more drinks.

“Don’t tell me that poor Jungwon is so tired from picking you up that you have no ride for tonight?”

He just laughed, sipping on his drink and pushing his hair back and out of his face.

“I appreciate your concern for him but no, he’s still gonna pick me up. I just don’t want to leave yet. Afraid I’ll miss you too much if I do.”

You’re leaning on the counter while talking to him. He can’t help the way his eyes flick down from your eyes to your chest, up to your lips and then back up to your eyes. You smirk, knowing that you’ve got his attention, but playing a little hard to get with your words.

“You flatter me Jay. Just don’t keep your little cafe worker running around too late. Poor boy probably has finals this week like the rest of these college kids do.”

You shoot him a wink before going off to attend to the other customers, though you wished you could talk to him for just a bit longer.

༄ ༄ ༄

Usually the bar closes at midnight, but because today was special, you were open till 2 a.m. Little by little, the patrons of the bar see themselves out, only a couple people left, including Jay.

“It’s closing time, love. I need to close your tab.”

With what's basically routine at this point, he hands you his card and smiles.

“What do you want as a tip tonight, love?”

He asks, using the same nickname you had used on him all night. You pretend to ponder before looking him in the eye. Remembering him telling you to be more confident the next time he asked you this question, you didn’t hesitate in your answer.”

“100 percent.”

He raises his eyebrows before cracking a half-sided smile.

“100% huh? For that kind of tip I would’ve expected more than having to wait 20 minutes between drinks.”

“Last time you were here when you got your promotion, Jake told me you would’ve tipped me 100% and gave me just that. Why is that?

He was taken aback and just looked at you like a deer in headlights. He was going to have to pummel Jake later for saying that. You really did want an answer, but before he could speak up, you beat him to it, basically confirming your feelings for him was the same as his feelings for you.

“100 percent. Your jacket is in my apartment. Maybe I’ll let you come up and grab it.”

You looked at him with the innocence of a bunny but the intonation of a siren. You knew you wanted him, and after his hesitation, you confirmed that he wanted you too. The way you said it, you weren’t inviting him to your apartment to grab his stupid jacket and he knew it too, licking his lips as he grabs a pen.

“My jacket you say? Consider it a trade.”

You can almost hear the need in his voice as he scribbles ‘100’ on the tip line.

“That's $100, not 100 percent? Your tab was only $30.”

“Oh really? Well, consider it as an extra tip, for letting me get my jacket back. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

He grabs his card from your hand and walks out. Your heart is racing, realization dawning on you that you were actually about to have Jay over at your apartment. The idea of it was crazy but the wetness collecting between your legs at the thought of Jay taking you in your apartment was enough to make you forget how crazy it actually was. Quickly closing out the rest of the tabs and helping the other two clean up, you rush outside, seeing Jay standing by the front door.

“Someone’s eager to give me my jacket back.”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

He laughs at your rebuttal, standing slightly behind you as you walk back to your apartment. The implications of what the next hour would hold made your panties slick with need, Jay’s pants seeming to tighten at the thought of finally getting to have you.

You arrive at your apartment door, making small conversation along the way. You unlock your door embarrassingly quickly, silently hoping Jay didn’t catch on to how needy you were just yet. You invite him inside, kicking off your shoes.

The atmosphere shifts a little, going from lighthearted and lustful to an uneasy silence. He doesn’t know why he can’t say anything, almost like he’s stunned that he’s actually in your apartment. This is not something he’d normally do, go back to seemingly a stranger’s house to have sex with them. Was he nervous?

“The jacket is in my room. I’ll go grab it for you,”

You say. You don’t know what you were hoping for, but you wanted him to do something. Instead, his eyes just follow your disappearing figure. He was frozen in place, not knowing how to proceed next. His mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to decide whether or not he should follow you to the room, if that’s what you were wanting. What if that’s not what you wanted and he was just in over his head? What if you didn’t want to have sex with him? You walk back out with his jacket in your hand, finding any excuse to keep him here just a bit longer.

“Do you want a cup of water or anything?”

“I want you.”

He remarks, finding the courage and sliding his hand around your waist and capturing your lips with his own. You bring your free hand up to his neck, the other still holding his jacket, silently cheering that he made the first move. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to put his hands on you. As if you hadn’t been flirting like crazy every time he saw you.

His hands slowly roamed your body, tongue darting out to swipe your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth. You part your lips in a moan, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in. His hands go down to squeeze your ass a little, trailing kisses down to your neck while you pant trying to catch your breath.

“Mmhm Jay…”

You moaned a little, making his semi-hard dick even harder, feeling it against your leg.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so sexy I’ve thinking about this for weeks now,”

He says, lips never leaving your neck. He bites down a little hard, causing you to let out a whimper.

“M-me too… been thinking about you all night…”

He pulls away from your neck, grabbing his jacket from your hand and throwing it onto your couch as he takes you to your bedroom. You lived alone so there was no point in closing the door. He takes off his shirt before laying you down on your bed, connecting your lips once again. You hadn’t noticed it, but he came wearing regular clothes today, not a fancy suit or button up. You reluctantly pull away, tugging off your shirt and bra, leaving both of your upper bodies bare.

“Holy god you are beautiful,”

He says, attaching his lips to your nipple and using the other to rub circles into your waist. You gently pull his hair, moaning at the contact and grinding up into him. The action causing you both to let out moans as he switches his attention from your left nipple to your right, unbuttoning your jeans with his free hand and gently caressing your clothed pussy. Your moans send his mind into a frenzy, kissing down your chest and abdomen until he reaches your core. You lift your hips up eagerly, signaling him to take your pants off. He lets out a chuckle, shucking your jeans and panties to a random corner of the room.

“It’s like I said before, someone’s eager.”

You don’t fight back, needing some form of contact.

“And you’re so wet for me too, what should I do with you?”

He teases, running just his index finger up and down your slit. Your mewls only make him want to tease you more, cherishing the little noises you’re making when he’s barely even touching you. Makes him wonder what you’d be like begging for his dick. He inserts one of his fingers without warning, gauging your reaction.

“J-Jay!”

You almost yell at the intrusion, not prepared for him to enter you so suddenly. You let yourself relax before slightly moving yourself on his finger, needing more. He picks up on your movements, thrusting his finger in and out, adding a second one. His face is so close to your clit, you can feel his breath on it. He tests the waters, gently blowing on your clit to which you jolt up. He smirks before dipping his face into your pussy, giving your clit a little lick.

“Jay please, please use your tongue on me!”

You’re all but begging him at this point, growing increasingly more wet at his teasing.

“I love it when you beg for me babygirl, as you wish,”

He says, fully attaching his lips to your clit, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. The pleasure is building up exponentially, causing a familiar, yet new feeling to build in your core.

“Jay I’m…”

And before you can finish your sentence, you’re gushing fluid, squirting all over his face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Jay!”

You yell frantically, embarrassed at your actions.

“You just squirted all over my face… Can you do that on my dick?”

He asks to your surprise. He removes his finger from you, causing you to whine at the empty feeling, only to remove his jeans and boxers, pulling you closer to him and lining up his dick with your entrance. He collects your slick on his fingers and pumps himself a few times. He nods his head at you, to which you nod back, giving him permission to enter.

He slowly pushes into you, groaning every second of the way, until he’s fully sheathed himself inside you. Your eyes fly open as he enters, gasping at how big he is. He slowly thrusts in, letting you adjust as he moves. His hands are gripping your hips tightly, pushing through your tight hole almost ensuring that you’ll be left with some bruising in the morning. Your hands are gripping the sheets underneath you, waiting for the slight sting to be replaced with pleasure.

“You’re so tight, it's even better than I had imagined.”

He leans down to leave kisses on your neck, your hands flying into his hair. He trails his kisses up your neck and jaw, meeting your lips again as he starts thrusting into you with more vigor. You struggle to contain your moans as he hits up right into your spot, the feeling causing a familiar wave of pressure to build up into your core. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as your moans grow uncontrollably louder. He all but growls into your ear at your sounds, like music to his ears.

“J-Jay, please, go faster,”

In an instant, he speeds up his pace without warning, the feeling of your hole clenching around his length eliciting a low grumble from the back of his throat.

“Please, please, I’m so close!”

“Let it all go for me, baby,”

The moment you squirt out again all over his dick he's pulling it out of you, praying he did it on time. He’s relieved to see his milky white fluid all over your lips, dangerously close to your hole. Your breathing is labored and your throat is dry. Jay wants to collapse next to you, also needing to catch up on his breathing, but spots the tissues on your desk, grabbing them to clean you up before cleaning himself off.

“That was close. Your pussy was too good, I almost came inside.”

You laugh at his comment while tugging on an oversized t-shirt, relieved that he didn’t come inside.

“Thanks but I should be the one praising you. I’ve never had a guy make me squirt twice.”

Jay’s ego was slightly inflated at the fact, smiling. He puts on his boxers and pants before laying down next to you, catching his breath. You both sit in a comfortable silence, looking up at your ceiling for a while before he breaks it.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, that was probably the best one night stand I've ever had.”

There was the fear of rejection once again. He knew he wanted you as more than a one night stand, but he was too afraid of rejection to bring it up , not wanting to get himself hurt.

"You have one night stands often then?”

You meant it in a joking way , concealing your disappointment at the thought of never being more than just a good fuck for a guy you had been crushing on for a while. Even through your jest, Jay could hear the slight uneasiness in your voice, after all, he did pay attention to your speech patterns and grew familiar with your confident tone when making jokes. He decided to bite the bullet, who cares if he got rejected? He wouldn’t know unless he asked.

“Actually, no. This is the first time I've ever done something like this… but if I'm being honest, I hope it’s not the last. I hope I’m not crazy when I say I’ve been crushing on you since we met and that I had a feeling that you’ve been crushing on me as well…”

He lets his voice trail off, nervous of your reaction towards his unexpected confession. One you can’t help but smile at because of how cute it is, despite the current context of your semi-naked bodies settled so comfortably on the bed.

“What gave it away? The way I’d always service you as soon as I could or the fact that I would spend more time than I should’ve talking to you when I was busy with other customers?”

“Hmm…”

You turn to rest your head on your hand while facing him, another question from you breaking him out of his search for a response.

“And you never answered my question from earlier but I guess it makes sense now. Jake said you were gonna tip me 100% the night you got your promotion but he didn’t tell me why. I guess I can assume you had already started liking me before then which is why I so confidently had asked for 100% tonight. But I don’t need your money by the way, I just wanted to test my theory and see if you’d actually give it to me.”

At this point you were rambling and you knew it, but you wanted to get every thought out of your head before you forgot it, starting to feel sleepy after your vigorous activities. He turns so he’s face to face with you.

“Aren’t you quite the detective? I found you attractive since the first night I walked in. I’m sure I wasn’t subtle about the way I looked at you and how often I looked at you either. But I think what did it was when you came running with my wallet that night. You looked so cute, shivering and acting like you weren’t cold.”

His explanation has you sighing, content at his answer. You just blink at him cutely and smile.

“You’re very sappy. But I kinda like it,”

He laughs and scoots closer to you, slinging an arm around your waist.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your smile only grows wider as you nod, leaning in so he can close the space between you. His hand that’s firmly grasping your waist is rubbing little soothing circles into it while you tangle your fingers in his hair, a kiss much sweeter and slower than the ones you’ve previously shared. You part your lips a little, allowing his tongue to roam your mouth freely.

Once you decide to break away, you both gaze into eachothers eyes.

“I would love to take you out. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know, let me think about it… I’m just kidding, yes!”

You both laugh at your little antics, Jay now sitting up on your bed and looking for his phone.

“Give me your number so I can text you. I’ll come back here to pick you up tomorrow.”

He says, hanging you his phone to put your number in.

“Here’s my number but you have like a million messages from Jungwon”

“Oh shit”

Caught up in the midst of his excitement, Jay had forgotten to text Jungwon not to come pick him up from the bar.

“Jay?”

“Where are you?”

“Come outside I’m here”

“The bars closed where are you?”

“Bro if you don’t come out I’m gonna leave”

“I just checked your location you could’ve told me you went to someone’s house”

“I’m never picking you up ever again”

“If if fail my exam on Monday because your bitch ass forgot to tell me that you didn’t need me to pick you up and I don’t have enough time to study I’m gonna take all your money”

“You suck”

“Fuck you”

You read the messages over his shoulder and laugh, catching his attention.

“Hey!”

“What? You left that poor boy outside waiting 20 minutes for you and you didn’t even tell him that you didn’t need him tonight. You deserve everything he said. You should buy him lunch tomorrow as an apology.”

“Yeah whatever he acts like he studies anyways.”

He rolls his eyes while you laugh. You get up from your spot on the bed, grabbing you both a cup of water from the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go shower. Wanna join?”

You say playfully, walking towards the bathroom and giggling.

“How can I say no to an offer so tempting?”

He laughs and follows behind you, hands already finding your waist as he follows you in, your laughs disappearing throughout the apartment as he closes the door behind him.

༄ ༄ ༄

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

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