#Jean is reconsidering the friendship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madschiavelique · 1 year

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<< Click here if you want to go back to chapter 1

Choice A : Decline and go straight to your flat.

content warnings : none word count : 1,9k masterlist of the fic : here.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

You don't want to miss the arrival of the deliverymen, hoping that at this hour you can still catch them and get their help.

"That's kind of you, but I've got to try and catch my delivery men on the fly."

"Consumer?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as if reconsidering the whole pseudo-friendship you'd created from the beginning of this tour.

"Receiver," you corrected, "I receive my flat's stuff."

He nodded, reassured, his anti-capitalism thoughts comforted by the news.

"I’ve got to go repeat with Gwen anyway, have you got a pen?" he questioned, the query catching you off guard, "with paper."

"Yes," you affirm, rummaging through your bag, pulling out a pen and with this your agenda. "The pen is called come back."

"Come back? Do you give names to all your things?"

"They all have the same name, come back. But especially my pens," you say as he gives a little laugh.

"Here," he says as he grabs both of them, uncapping the pen with his teeth before quickly writing numbers on your planner's first page. "Here's my number," he handed you your diary, "and here's come back." he said as he handed you your pen. "If you ever need any information or have any problems, just give me a call. All right?"

"Alright," you as you pack your things into your bag. "Is it weird that I didn't expect you to have a phone?"

After all, as anti-system and anti-consumer as he was, the thought of him having a phone seemed almost unlikely.

"No, but I had to have one just to keep in touch." He pulls out of his pocket what looks like a relic of technology, an antiquity not so very distant in our era: a Nokia 3310.

Your eyes remain fixed on it for a few moments before you pull yourself together: there's no time to lose, you've got to see your delivery men.

"Thanks for..." you're not going to list every item you want to thank him for, so you simply finish your sentence with "everything"

He nods as you start to leave, giving you a two-fingered salute.

You pass a street, trying to take note of the shop signs. There's a small mini-market on the next street you turn down. It seems to have a bit of everything, food, crafts, even candles.

You pass another street, a little longer, before taking a turn and arriving in a narrower one where most of the buildings are residential.

Hey... that's the delivery van leaving! You're almost tempted to run, but it's already too far for you. You let out an exasperated sigh, your bottom lip bitten by your annoyed teeth.

The good thing is that, even if you haven't been able to collect all your stuff, the concierge is in charge of collecting it if you're away for the delivery. You arrive at the door of your new building, looking at it again. It's obviously not your first time here, but you can't help thinking that this is going to be your home.

You enter the hall with your building badge, and come face to face with two people. One of them looks familiar: the concierge, a kindly, gentle old man who's been keeping up the good neighbourly business since he took over the building. And the second...

The first thing you notice is that he's tall, very tall to the point where you’d have to raise your head to speak with him. His body is massive, and the way his shirt is tight on his back but a bit more loose around his waist has your complete attention. He's brown-haired, wearing a black shirt and dark jeans. His back is turned to you as the little caretaker's eyes sparkle at the sight of you.

"Ah, [Name] there you are. I tried to hold back the delivery boys because I didn't know if you'd arrive at the same time as them, but I didn't manage it," he says with a little shrug.

"That's all right," you assert as you approach the pair.

The man who has his back facing you turns around, and you are overwhelmed by the beauty of his face. You didn't think that such a perfect body would go with such a flawless figure, but right now you're happier than ever to be wrong. If every time you were mistaken such miraculous results occurred, then being wrong would inevitably become your favourite occupation.

The way his eyes through his long dark lashes find yours in a sort of surprised new interest found in your presence makes you forget how to breathe for a long second. You approach them, the feeling of his gaze travelling your body tingles your skin.

"This is Miguel O'Hara.” introduces your concierge. “He's your next-door neighbour."

Wonderful day, thank you for having graced me with the presence of this god among men whom I have been given to have as a neighbour, you think to yourself.

Miguel turns to you, holding out his hand and flashing a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you, [Name] is it ?” he says, as if to make sure he pronounces it properly.

"That's right, nice to meet you too," you smile, taking his huge hand and shaking it softly.

The warm skin of his palm meets yours, his grip is soft and you wonder how hard it must be for him to lower his strength and not crush your hand in his.

You had held a bird once in your hands as it had been slightly wounded on its wing, and you remember how caressing its head with just your thumb felt like a single stronger pressure could hurt it. It was round and its skull felt as thin as an eggshell.

Does Miguel ever feel like this ? Like whatever he holds might break ?

You don't know what's more disconcerting, the feel of his hand against yours, or the sound your name had in his mouth.

Is it wrong that you want to hear him call your name again ?

Your eyes linger on his features. His hair that he must’ve combed with his fingers beforehand, his salient cheekbones, his straight jaw, his full lips...

"The boxes are right here," says the concierge as you conclude your handshake.

The concierge’s words feel like a needle popping a bubble, this sharp and sparkly come back to reality prickling in your mind as you remove your hand from Miguel’s.

A glance at your stuff pointed by the caretaker is enough to make you sigh heavily. The idea of a box or a single cube is enough to currently make you tired, so much so that even the idea that you're about to lift Minecraft cubes can't comfort you.

"Thank you very much," you greet him as he waves goodbye to both you and Miguel one last time before heading off.

You inhale, then relax your shoulders as you exhale before stooping down to pick up two boxes that are stacked together. You've got six boxes in all, some heavier than others, but the weight isn't what worries you most. What bothers you slightly is that you're going to have to do it three times to bring everything up.

"Do you need any help?" asks Miguel

You turn to him, his gaze impassive as he points to the remaining boxes. With his build, all your problems of moving around would be immediately solved.

"It would be really nice, if it's not too much trouble," you reply simply, your hands already hurting from lifting the two boxes.

"Not at all," he says with a smile as he picks up the four remaining boxes and lifts them, two boxes per arm.

It's amazing how easy he makes lifting them look, when only two in your arms are killing you. You can’t help but notice how the fabric of his shirt tightens over his muscles as the contract, and you silently swallow your saliva at the view.

You both start to climb the stairs, every step feeling like the pressure in your fingers from holding the boxes deepens and raises in your arms. Miguel seems hesitant to engage in conversation, and to be honest so are you.

It’s not so much because you lack of conversation, but it feels like his presence itself squeezes your throat, such that you’re worried if you try to speak words they'd come out bitten into pieces.

"So, you’re a big reader?" he eventually asks, breaking the silence that seems to tingle the air as you make your way up the stairs.

"A bit,” you breath, “although let's just say it's not fiction," you end up replying, climbing the stairs in front of him one by one.

"Oh really? What kind of books are they?" he questions, his voice steady.

"Scientific books," the pain in your fingers feels like the boxes are becoming heavier by the second. "I know, sounds very exciting," you joke.

The number of times some of your friends look at you like you're an alien as you rant on about the latest in the world of science is countless.

"What kind of science?" Miguel doesn't seem to act like them on the subject though, and is actually rather curious about it.

"Bioengineering," you reply as you arrive on your shared doorstep, lifting your knee to support the boxes as you grab your keys and open the door.

As you step inside, the emptiness of the flat feels strange. The entrance leads into your corridor. You pass your bedroom door on the left, then the bathroom, and finally you get to the living room which is linked to the kitchen.

You put the boxes on the floor of it and Miguel follows your movements. You look at your fingers, the linear trace of the weight of the boxes visible.

"I love the decor," he quips, which makes you laugh softly.

"I paid a fortune for the interior decorator," you say as you turn to him, your lip stretching into a smile.

His eyes are soft, and you catch yourself looking into them more than you should.

"I don't know how to thank you enough for this."

"No te preocupes," he assures you, staring at the emptiness playing as the only item of furniture in your apartment. "When do you expect to receive the rest of your furnishings?"

“I've got a big delivery in a month's time. Bookshelf, chests of drawers, bedsprings, all my dearest dreams," you tell him.

He nods, taking his phone out of his pocket and tapping on it. It’s almost ridiculous how even his phone looks small between his fingers. He hand it to you.

"When the delivery arrives, let me know. I'll come and help you."

Slightly surprised – as pleasantly as possible – you gently take the phone, your fingers brushing against his again before you fill in your contact. You hand it to him, and it only takes a few seconds before you receive a simple message : "pretty decor," which makes you smile.

His phone then vibrates, his expression changing from amusement to exasperation without much transition.

"I've got to go," he admits.

You would’ve liked to continue this conversation, you wanted to know more about it, just maybe not in the neighbourly way.

You walk back to your front door, him brushing against you as you hold the door.

"It was nice to meet you, [Name]" he greets you, pronouncing your name one last time with a little smile, stepping back towards his door.

"Likewise, Miguel," you smile as you close yours.

The door shuts and you stand still behind it for a moment.

You could only think of one thing: the way your name sounded between his lips.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Common end >>

#madschiavelique ☾⋆｡☁︎ ﾟ #☁︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ oxytocin✦love ᥫ᭡

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luckyroll3 · 1 month

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Crimson Lights: Chapter 17

Masterlist

It has been a few days since Changbin confessed his romantic feelings. Later on that night, he’d sent me a message apologizing for his forwardness and for making me uncomfortable. He’d also asked to meet to talk some more. As I walk to the park a few blocks from my clinic, I feel a bit nervous about our encounter. I spot him at a picnic table under a large tree. “Hey,” I say as I slip onto the bench across from him. Our eyes lock as he gives me a tight lipped smile.

"Hi Kay," he starts, his voice rough like gravel. Then he gets right to it. "So what do we do about us?"

I exhale slowly, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. "This is dangerous territory, Changbin. You know that, right? If we navigate this wrong, we lose our friendship. I don’t want that." My fingers absently trace a carving in the wood table, seeking some type of distraction.

Changbin leans back, his broad shoulders shifting as he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t either. I just needed you to know…and to know for myself if it was one-sided.”

I reach over the table to grab his hand in mine. “It’s not. The one thing that became clear is that there are some mutual feelings here that I hadn’t recognized. But what’s concerning me is what this will mean for Chris….and Lauren.”

He leans forward. “I can’t ignore what I feel.”

“I know and I’m not asking you to. But Lauren clearly likes you and you began a relationship with her because you like her too, right?” He nods in response. “And while Chris is fine with us exploring….whatever this is…I know that I am head over heels in love with him and I’m not interested in giving him up. And you’ve personally told me that you don’t like sharing with him. So what is this even going to look like? It’s not just about feelings. There are consequences we need to be worried about as well.”

He sighs before bringing my hand to his lips for a kiss. “I would reconsider for you. And Chan and I have navigated much worse.”

“What about Lauren?”

He pauses to think for a second. “I’m not sure how to deal with Lauren. You’re right, I do like her. I’m hesitant to end things with her because our relationship is new, but I also don’t want…..”

“To lead her on?” I finish for him.

“Yeah. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Okay. Well, that’s not fair to her. I think you need to figure that out for yourself and we need to take this slow.”

“Slow?” he echoes, as if the word was new.

“Yeah,” I affirm, my eyes searching his. “Low key. Just….getting to know each other outside of our friendship.”

“We can try.” He smiles broadly. “So how about a first date then? Something simple.”

“Okay. What do you have in mind?”

“Maybe a dive bar? A quiet, chill place where we can get a couple beers and see what’s here.”

“Alright. Sometime in the next week or so? I guess after this double date?”

“Perfect.” He kisses my hand again before standing up. He walks around the table to me and holds open his arms for a hug. I stand up and let him envelop me. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he whispers into my ear. I nod in response. I feel his lips on my neck, then he presses them to mine in a soft, tender kiss. It’s our first kiss, yet it feels familiar and right. I savor the taste of him as he slips his tongue into my mouth. It’s gentle, yet passionate, but quickly becomes deeper and I start to lose myself in him. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised at how good a kisser he is.

As things start to escalate, I feel his hands slide down my back towards my ass. His fingers start to slip under the waistband of my jeans. I’m not quite ready for all of this and I gently push him away. I disconnect from his lips to catch my breath. “Slow…” I say feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Yeah, slow,” he chuckles softly as he steps back. “Sorry. This will be hard…trying to resist you.” He pops a quick kiss on my cheek before he says, “Bye,” and heads towards his car. I watch him stride away.

I hear a loud bark behind me and turn to see a large golden retriever running full speed in my direction. When she gets to me, she jumps around in excitement. I recognize her immediately, especially because of her signature pastel blue bandana around her neck. “Oh, hi Parker!” I say, as I squat down to bring myself to her level. “What are you doing here?” I playfully rub her face in my hands and pet her.

I look up to see her owner running towards us, desperately trying to catch up despite being out of breath. “Hey Dr. Miller,” she says as she bends over to catch herself. “Sorry about that. She saw you and just took off!”

I laugh. “It’s okay, Sam. Parker knows she’s my bestest friend,” I say as I run my hands up and down her belly.

“You know, she hated the last vet.” She sits down at the table. “Was that your boyfriend? He’s really good looking.” She nods in the direction that Changbin walked.

“He is good looking.” I say before looking at her. “But no, just a friend.”

“I don’t have friends who kiss me like that…”

—

I was strongly reconsidering agreeing to go on this double date with Changbin and Lauren. He and I were in such a weird place. And Lauren is the only one of the four of us unaware that there was something more at play. But apparently, she was super excited about it and the boys loved bowling.

As Chris pulls his SUV into a parking spot in front of the bowling alley, he looks at me and says, “You need to relax. If you’re this tense around her, she will suspect something is wrong.”

“But don’t you feel weird about it? About this double date?” I ask earnestly.

He thinks about the question for a second. “Not really. If anyone should feel weird it’s Binnie for leading her on.” He opens the car door and climbs out.

I follow suit, meeting him in front of the car. “I don’t think he’s leading her on. He actually likes her. But he doesn’t want to sacrifice her if this doesn’t pan out. She’s a failsafe.”

“That’s probably worse!” Chris says with a light chuckle. He grabs my hand and we walk towards the entrance. The bowling alley is equal parts bright and loud. We spot Changbin in a lane near the opposite end of the building. He’s telling Lauren a very animated story, and she looks to be enjoying every second of it.

Chris and I get our shoes and balls then head down towards them. Lauren sees us approach and waves excitedly. Changbin’s eyes meet mine for a split second, a flicker of uncertainty passing through them. As we reach their lane, Lauren rushes over to give me a hug. “Kay, I’m so happy you guys could make it! Isn’t this place awesome?” she gushes, her enthusiasm infectious.

I smile back at her, trying to match her energy. “Thanks for inviting us. This is Chris.” I nod in his direction.

“Chan,” Changbin calls out. I give Changbin a quick kiss hello on his cheek before quickly stepping away.

“Oh…” Lauren says as she walks over to Chris with her hand out. “So nice to meet you finally. He’s told me so much about you. Which name do you prefer?”

Chris shakes her outstretched hand. “Whichever you like. I answer to both. It’s nice to meet you too.” He gives her his million watt smile and I see her melt just a little when she catches sight of the dimples.

Changbin walks over and slaps Chris on the back. “You guys ready to bowl?”

Chris throws his arm around him with a grin. “Absolutely! Let’s see who the real champion is here,” he challenges.

I roll my eyes at them as I sit down to change my shoes. Lauren sits next to me. “They’re super competitive aren’t they?” she asks.

“Yeah. Too competitive,” I respond, tying my shoe. “I’ve once seen them race to tie their sneakers the fastest. How are your bowling skills? I’m shit!” I lower my voice to continue, “but neither of them know that and I’m not telling them.” I smirk.

Lauren giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m ok. But don’t worry, I won’t tell them your secret.”

“Thanks,” I say, tying my other shoe. “Let’s do this!” I say to the group as I stand up and clap my hands together.

Chris suggests we team up with our dates for the first round.

I watch everyone bowl as I wait my turn. I’m not surprised that both Chris and Binnie are basically professional bowlers. They each hit a strike in their first frame. Lauren’s also not too bad, although she leaves 3 pins standing. I insert my fingers into the ball and walk over to the lane, trying to copy their form. I hurl the ball towards the pins and am shocked when they all fall over.

“Yes babe!” I hear Chris shout behind me. I walk back to my seat and he gives me a high five.

Changbin steps up confidently for the second round, his competitive nature shining through as he focuses on the pins ahead. With a swift motion, he releases the ball, sending it rolling down the lane with precision. However, to everyone's surprise, a stray pin remains standing amidst the fallen ones. Changbin looks slightly taken aback by this unexpected outcome, but he quickly recovers with a grin and strides back to get another ball. He adjusts his position before using a very controlled motion to send the ball down the lane. When it hits the lone target, he does a silly dance to celebrate.

Lauren takes her turn next, and to my surprise, this time she manages to knock down all the pins with her smooth throw. She jumps up in excitement, clapping her hands as she turns towards us. "That's how it's done!" she cheers, clearly thrilled with her strike. Changbin joins in on her celebration, giving her a double high five before it's Chris’ turn again.

Chris gives me a quick wink before stepping up to take his turn. He lines up his shot, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. He releases the ball smoothly and it rolls down the lane, hitting the pins perfectly for another strike. He points at Binnie and turns back to me with a grin. I can't help but laugh at his competitiveness. As I walk up to take my turn, he slaps my ass and says, “Let’s get em!”

I mimic exactly what I did before, and again earn a strike. “Yes,” I whisper to myself as I pump my fist. As I walk back, Chris looks pleased. He pulls me in for a side hug as he kisses me on the temple.

As the game progresses, Chris and Changbin are neck and neck in the lead, with Lauren and I trailing behind. My luck runs out in the next few frames, with several gutterballs or only one or two pins falling.

I walk back to my seat and grab my beer. Chris eyes me suspiciously before asking, “What was that? We had such a good lead.”

I shrug my shoulders as I take a sip, and try to avoid his eyes while hiding a smirk behind the cup. I see the realization start to dawn on him.

“You little faker!” he exclaims as he moves closer to me with a grin on his face.

I pretend to cower at his approach, my laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “I’m sorry! I can’t bowl to save my life! Those first 2 strikes were a fluke,” I confess between giggles.

“And you let me choose you as a partner?!?” He pretends to be offended, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. He starts tickling me, causing me to squirm and laugh even harder. “I have a reputation to uphold!”

“Y’all are just so damn competitive!” I tease, as he laughs and hugs me from behind. “Who cares about bowling this much?!”

“Maybe I can convince Lauren to switch teams….” he whispers in my ear mischievously.

I scoff at this suggestion because I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “Oh fuck you!” I say playfully as I try to shrug him off me.

He squeezes me tighter. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Mostly…” I give him a look that makes him laugh.

Changbin saunters over after his turn, flexing his muscles and flashing a charming grin. Lauren scurries to retrieve her ball and head to the lane. “What’s going on over here?” he asks with a playful smirk.

“Did you know she hates bowling?” Chris asks him, one arm draped around my chest while his chin rests on the top of my head.

“I don’t hate bowling,” I say gazing up at Chris, annoyed but amused. “I’m just not good at it.”

Changbin chuckles at my confession, clearly entertained by the revelation. “Well, you had me fooled, at least in the beginning.”

“Now I have to carry this team to the win on my own!” Chris says when Lauren walks back from her turn.

As he walks past me to get his ball I slap his ass, “Yes, go earn your keep!”

Lauren sits next to me. “They found out?” she asks. She laughs as I nod.

As the game progresses, the friendly competition intensifies between Chris and Changbin, each of them trying to outdo the other. Changbin narrowly beats Chris by one point, and the two of them playfully argue about who has the better form.

We decide that the next round will be boys versus girls, but that the boys can’t use the “textbook bowler’s form”; they have to use two hands to throw the balls. Before we begin again, Lauren suggests we take a break to restock the pitcher and appetizers. Since Chris lost, this round is on him. As he and Lauren walk towards the bar to place the order, I head to the bathroom.

As I exit the bathroom a few minutes later, I see Changbin stepping out of the men’s room. “Hey,” he says when he notices me. “Are you avoiding me today?” He reaches for my hand tentatively and gently pulls me closer to him.

“Not avoiding,” I respond, attempting to keep some distance between us. “Just trying to be respectful of your date.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs as his arms wrap around my waist to pull me in even closer. “I see. Well you look really nice today.” He leans in to kiss my neck.

“Thanks. But…” I bring my hands up to his chest and gently push back. “We can’t do this here.” I try to keep my voice steady. His lips are dangerously close to mine and I can’t help but think back to our kiss in the park.

“You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss,” he says in a low voice, as if reading my mind.

My heart swirls in my chest as I battle conflicting emotions within me. I desperately want to give in to him, but this is not the right time nor place. And this is quite literally the opposite of “taking it slow”.

Before I can respond, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching us. Changbin quickly releases me, a sheepish expression crossing his face.

Chris rounds the corner, stopping when he sees us. He looks back and forth between the two of us. “Y’all good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Changbin says as I nod in response.

“Ok,” Chris responds, sounding unconvinced. “Binnie, Lauren is looking for you. Also, this could have very easily been her walking up on you two.”

“Shit, yeah, I know. I’ll meet you guys back over there.” Binnie leaves us alone in the hallway.

Chris turns back to me, his eyes searching my face with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks softly

“Yeah, just…” I sigh, not wanting to admit my discomfort to him. Binnie didn’t really make me uncomfortable; it was more the situation - I don’t like hurting people. “It’s not a huge deal.”

“Did he say something?”

“He wanted to know why I was avoiding him and he said I looked good.”

“He’s not wrong. You’ve been noticeably standoffish with him tonight. Lauren has never really seen you two together, but I’m very used to you and him being joined at the hip and brain. And I agree that you do look good.” Chris smirks, his full lips tugging up at the corners. “You’re looking like a snack tonight….” he says as he wraps his arms around my waist and looks down on me. “…and I want a bite.” He playfully nips at the top of my shoulder, causing me to smile.

“That can definitely be arranged,” I tease, pulling him in for a deep kiss. He presses me up against the hallway wall as our tongues fight against each other.

He pulls away and smirks, his breath warm against my cheek. “You know, I can think of a few things we could do in the next few minutes,” he whispers.

“I bet you could.” I return my lips to his as I feel his hands move tenderly up my back. We lose ourselves in the kiss for a moment and the sound of the bowling alley fades into the background. I also completely forget about the awkwardness of the situation with Changbin. All I can focus on is Chris. Being with him just always feels right; like coming home - safe and warm.

Just as things start to escalate, a loud cough startles us apart. Lauren stands a few feet away, an amused smirk playing on her lips and one eyebrow raised suggestively. “Sorry to interrupt, but are you two done devouring each other?” she teases.

We both pull away, breathing heavily and trying to regain our composure. Chris clears his throat, looking slightly flustered but grinning nonetheless. “Yep, yep. Just on my way to the bathroom.” He winks at me before slipping through the door.

“It’s your roll,” she says to me as we walk back towards the lane. “I wish Changbin kissed me like that! You two are really cute together,” she gushes. “How long have you been together?”

“Uhm, almost 3 months now, I think.”

“Wow. Really? You’re so comfortable with each other. It seems like you’ve been a couple for years.”

“I feel like I’ve known him for years. We connected from the moment we met.” I smile to myself at the thought of him. “I never really believed in love at first sight or soulmates and all that shit until I met him.” I take a mozzarella cheese stick from the platter and bite into the middle of it.

“Aww, that’s so sweet. He’s also really good looking. Both of them are.” She leans in conspiratorially. “I bet he’s incredible in bed,” she adds with a sly grin.

I can’t help but smirk back at her. “Oh trust me, I have no complaints.” I clean my hands with a napkin before taking a sip of beer. “You?”

“We’ve only been together a couple of times. All great. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy cater to every single one of my needs in bed. He was amazing.” She pops a potato skin in her mouth. “I’m so excited. It’s been a while since I’ve had girl talk!”

I smile at her. “Me too.”

I grab my ball and shoot it down the lane, knocking over half the pins. I take my second shot, hitting 2 more. I return to my seat as we wait for the boys to get back.

“I’m not surprised that Binnie’s good in bed. He’s definitely a giver,” I say, continuing our conversation. She nods enthusiastically. “So, what’s the deal with you two? Are you getting serious?” I’m very interested in hearing how she feels about this relationship, especially since Changbin seems very unsure about what he wants.

“I hope so. I really like him. But…” She pauses and takes a quick look around before continuing. “Sometimes I feel like his mind is somewhere else.” I bring the cup to my lips and take a couple gulps of the beer. “Has he said anything to you?”

Shit! “Nothing really,” I say, trying to downplay what I know and my unwitting role in it. “I do know that they’ve had a lot going on at work. But he has told me that he really likes you too.” All mostly true. A large smile crosses her face when she hears that.

Changbin comes back with 4 large shots and we end the conversation. As he hands one to me and Lauren, Chris returns from the bathroom, receiving the last shot from Changbin. We all down the shots.

“You’re up, babe,” I say to Chris.

He’s the first to try out the two-handed technique. He looks ridiculous trying to figure out how to maneuver the ball with both hands, while Changbin can't contain his laughter at the sight. Chris ends up releasing the ball awkwardly, and it veers off to the side, only knocking down a couple of pins. Lauren and I cheer him on anyway, amused by his efforts.

Changbin steps up next, trying to mimic Chris's technique. He seems to have a bit more success in controlling the ball, but his aim is slightly off as well. The boys are lagging behind this time, hindered by the handicap we’ve assigned to them. Lauren and I kick their asses. We celebrate with another round of shots.

About an hour later, Lauren and I have abandoned bowling, choosing instead to just talk and drink, continuing to get to know each other. Meanwhile, Changbin and Chris play two more rounds to crown the ultimate winner, essentially ignoring us.

Lauren is clearly drunk and I’m not far behind her. We’ve started singing and dancing along to the songs playing over the speakers, the boys joining us when it’s not their turn.

As the bowling alley starts to empty out, we realize how late it has gotten. I look up at the scoreboard and Chris and Changbin are on their last frame. Chris wins this round.

“Yo,” I call over to them as they bicker about who’s the best. “I think we’re done.”

“Is it time to call it a night?” Chris asks, glancing at his watch. “This was fun; maybe we should continue this somewhere else. What are your plans for after this?” he asks Binnie.

"Ginger ale!" Lauren answers quickly while pointing at me accusingly for making her drink more than she can handle. Changbin and Chris start to laugh.

“Sorry!” I say joining in on the laughter. “But I hope you had fun?”

“I had such a great time with you guys tonight,” Lauren says smiling at me as she grabs her purse. “But I don’t think I’ll last much longer. I’m a lightweight!” She throws her arms around my neck for a hug.

“I had fun too.” I hug her back.

“We need to hang out again…without them,” she says when she pulls away.

I nod, “Definitely. Y’all get home safe. Bye Bin.”

“Bye,” Changbin says as he gives me a hug, lingering just a second too long. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung,” he says to Chris.

“Yup,” Chris responds. Changbin and Lauren head towards the door. We follow a few minutes later after I’ve used the bathroom. In the car, Chris asks, “So you and Lauren seemed extra friendly?”

“She’s a cool girl.” My gaze drifts out the window. “I can see why he likes her. Certainly makes things a bit more complicated though.”

He nods in understanding as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Ready to go home?” he asks while we wait at the red light, his fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel.

My mind immediately rebels against the idea of ending the night so soon. “Not really.” I lay my head back on the headrest and turn to face him. The red light illuminates his profile, casting shadows across his sharp features. He looks glorious. “Let’s go dancing. Take me somewhere.”

He turns to me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “The last time we went dancing….”

I feel myself start to blush a bit. “I know…but no crazy threesomes tonight. Just you; just us.”

He smirks as he leans over to me. “Ok,” he says before kissing me slowly. I feel one of his hands wrap around my neck and squeeze gently. His other hand finds its way to my thigh. The light turns green and he pulls away to resume driving.

As he drives, Chris reaches over and intertwines his fingers with mine. I catch him stealing glances at me, and each time I smile. The city lights blur by outside the car windows, creating a mesmerizing backdrop to our silent communication. We arrive at another of their clubs and he parks in a reserved spot in front of the building. He turns off the ignition and we sit there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, his eyes locked onto mine.

My eyes flicker to his lips and I instinctively lick my own. I resist engaging him in a kiss again because I know we won’t leave the car. I bring my eyes back up to his and nod. We step out of the car. Chris takes my hand and we make our way towards the entrance to the club. As we walk past the line, Chris gives a quick nod to the bouncer who unhooks the rope to let us pass with a, “Hey boss.”

Inside, the music is loud, pulsating through the air and making the floor vibrate beneath our feet. Chris leads me through the dance floor, finding a spot for us to squeeze into. We start moving together, our bodies swaying in perfect rhythm. I press into him and one of his arms wraps around my waist, keeping me from losing my balance. There’s nothing else but us and the music, and the energy between us is electric. The music shifts to a slower tempo and Chris pulls me even closer to him. I relish in the feeling of his body rolling, his waist wining against mine. He's too good. “Who taught you how to dance like this?” I ask, whispering into his ear.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he whispers back with a sly grin. “Just enjoy it.” Our hips grind together slowly as he takes our bodies low, close to the ground, and then brings us back up.

I start to lose what little restraint I have left. I allow myself to surrender to the moment, letting my desire take control. I cup his cheeks and bring his lips to mine. Our kiss is passionate and explosive. Chris’ hands move over my back, pulling me impossibly closer.

Eventually, we break apart, breathless and wanting more. Chris' eyes are dark, his gaze filled with longing. He takes me in as my body keeps moving with the music. My eyes never leave his, a silent question lingering between us. Chris grabs my hand and leads me to a secluded corner where we can have some semblance of privacy.

He pulls me into his arms, his hands sliding down my back as his lips hungrily reclaim mine. He presses me against the wall, reminiscent of our moment earlier at the bowling alley. The heat from his body envelops me and there is nothing else but the sensation of his touch, the taste of his kiss. I thread my fingers through his air, trying to pull him even closer.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice filled with lust as he breaks the kiss to look at me again, as if he’s trying to make a decision.

He takes my hand again and I follow him down the dark hallway. He pushes open the third door to a surprisingly large and clean, but dimly lit, single toilet bathroom. “They hardly use this one,” he whispers as he locks the door behind us.

The bathroom feels oddly intimate as we stand there, our heavy breaths mingling in the small space. I can see the lust in Chris’ eyes, a primal need that mirrors my own. Without a word, he pushes me against the sink, his lips finding mine once more with a bruising kiss. He bites my bottom lip softly before pulling away, shifting focus to unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. In one fluid motion, he pulls down my jeans and panties, then gently turns me around so that I’m now facing the sink.

We watch each other through our reflections in the mirror. He unbuttons his own pants and pulls out his already hard dick. With a light touch, he bends me over the sink. I grasp onto the edges to steady myself. The marble beneath me is cold against my skin, in sharp contrast to the warmth emanating from his body. Chris enters me from behind and I let out a contented sigh as his cock fills me up fully, the feeling so familiar and intoxicating. His hands gripping my hips are firm, strong, and confident as he starts pumping in and out, his breath heavy against my neck. I push back against him, savoring each thrust. Time seems to slow down, stretching out as our bodies move against each other enjoying the intense pleasure. My hand reaches back to pull his head closer to mine, turning my head to the side to find his lips. His tongue darts in and out of my mouth. He starts to pick up speed, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, and more urgent. His lips travel down my neck, leaving small bites and marks along the way. When he reaches my shoulder, he bites and pulls at the skin. I utter a small gasp. I can hear the rhythmic smacking of his skin against mine blending with the muffled music from the club.

He reaches a hand down to find my clit, rubbing it gently but firmly until I cry out in pleasure. He begins moving even faster, his teeth sinking into the side of my neck. I lean my head back into him, as it gets more difficult for me to catch my breath while Chris’ hips buck against me, pushing deeper inside. I feel an eruption happen inside me, as Chris’ hips jerk roughly, our bodies connecting in a joint climax so intense that it shakes us both. He groans as he cums inside me and I release a loud moan that matches it. Our sounds echo in the small room.

We stay locked together for what feels like forever, both of us in a daze, breathless, but smiling lazily at each other in the mirror. He leans heavily on me for support as we continue to catch our breaths, still holding on tight to each other. "Fuck," he pants into my neck, "You make me crazy." He kisses me again. Chris finally pulls out with a groan and zips himself up. “Don’t move. Let me clean you up.”

He reaches over me to grab a couple paper towels, as he turns on the faucet below me to moisten them. Then he squats and gently cleans between my legs. “Thanks,” I say softly, delighting in him catering to me, though I’m still having trouble breathing normally. He throws the soiled towels in the trash, then gently kisses my ass cheek. As he stands up, he pulls up my underwear and my jeans, reaching around me to zip my pants closed. I hold his arms in place around my waist and lean back into him, taking deep slow breaths.

"Don't want to let you go," he murmurs, his hot breath tickling my ear as he kisses my neck. His chest is still heaving.

“Then don’t,” I whisper back. “Ever.” We continue standing there against each other in the dim light of the bathroom. Our bodies instinctively start swaying to the music coming through the walls. We stay like this, watching each other in the mirror, dancing slowly, and peppering each other with soft kisses through four or five songs. Nothing else matters in this little bubble we’ve created for ourselves. It feels like heaven.

The music transitions to another song. "We should probably get out of here," he whispers in my ear. I nod.

He takes my hand in his, and leads me back to the main part of the club. We cross the dance floor and head straight for the door. As we walk out, the bouncer says, “Night boss.”

“See ya later man,” Chris calls over his shoulder. When we get to the car, he opens the door for me and helps me climb up into my seat. Seconds later, he’s in the driver's seat, his hand retaking mine. He opens all the windows and lets the cool night air envelop the car as he drives us home.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz fanfic #bang chan #bangchan fanfic #bang chan imagines #skz smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #bangchan #changbin #changbin smut #changbin imagines

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heavenzscent · 1 year

Note

hi! this is for the jeankasa writing prompts

🦋 + 🍓❤️‍🔥🫧

Thank you for sending in a prompt! It's subtle but I think it takes alot of courage when a person is young to talk to someone they like and the surprise is very simple as well. I wanted for the coming of age aspect to be a small step forward for Jean and Mikasa. They are basically learning how to navigate a friendship together which is a very important skill for everyone to develop in their young adult years.

I hope you enjoy your such a great writer so I’m nervous lol!

Word Count: 2,111

Setting: Survey Corps Year 851 - a little of a year into the scouts -Jean and Mikasa 16 years old

Themes: Coming of Age, Courage, Surprise

Jean's hair was sticking to his neck uncomfortably. It made him reconsider the whole change in hairstyle that he was trying.

He had complained to Connie about his predicament.

If his hair is grown out it sticks to his neck and if it's short it exposes his neck to the sun and he needs to always remember his hat but lately he was wearing his hat too much and he got dandruff and his hat doesn’t stay on his head when he uses ODM gear.

He didn’t know what he was expecting but Connie just laughed about how he sounded like more of a girl then Sasha and Mikasa combined. Armin said nothing just rolled his eyes and went back to his book and Eren gave a half hearted huff from his nose. Jean couldn’t even pretend that Eren was an asshole these days; he actually felt a small sense of comfort if Eren managed to laugh at him actually. The guy had been acting weird.

“Stop slouching Jean, you're going to be a hunched over old man if you keep that up.” Levi commanded,flicking the back of his neck as he was walking through the mess hall bringing Jean back to reality.

“I swear he’s worse than my mom.” Jean muttered to himself in annoyance once his captain was out of ear shot.

“That’s just his way of saying he likes you.” Mikasa said absentmindedly as she stirred her stew.

Jean felt himself tense upon hearing her voice. He had thought he was eating his stew alone and he stared at her in surprise. He couldn’t remember if she ever sat with him unless Sasha,Armin or Eren were already at their table. Mikasa looked at him curiously which brought to Jeans attention that staring at a girl with his mouth open probably looked quite stupid.

Upon this realization he quickly sat up as Levi had instructed him to, lifted his chin and nonchalantly leaned his face upon his hand fixing his face to look as unbothered as ever with his signature smirk. “Of course you would understand the captain.” He chuckled.

“Eat your soup. It will get cold.” Mikasa commanded.

He could feel his face heat up and he instantly grew back into the shy boy he had been 5 years ago when he had first met her. “ Yes of course.” he muttered.

They ate their stew quietly. It was quite good. It had a base of beef broth and chunks of beef in it. Since retaking the island there was more than enough room for cattle.

“Do you like beef?”

Jean thought his ears were playing with him but he could swear he could hear her soft voice past his slurping. “Huh?”

“Do you like beef especially?” She asked through pursed lips.

“I s’pose… actually lately I do.I can’t seem to eat enough these days. Chicken I have to eat so much and pork makes me too tired after. Why?’

Mikasa shook her head. “No reason. I just noticed when we have beef you eat messy.”

Jean chuckled again. She was so funny without even knowing. He couldn’t even be offended because she was just so honest. He found it endearing.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, picked up her bowl and stomped out the mess hall.

He stared as she made quick long strides towards the door even ignoring Connie and Sash who were finally making her way in for lunch.

Connie whistled. “What did you do to her?” He asked, his eyes shining with mischievous curiosity.

“I-I don’t know.”

He went over the interaction with both his friends and by the end Sasha was laughing leaving both boys puzzled.

“What is it Sasha, do you know?” Connie asked.

“Is it some girl thing?” Jean asked.

Connied tsked. “Jean! Sasha and Mikasa aren’t girls, not in that way.” He said a matter- of-factly.

“Shut up Connie.” Sasha and Jean said in unison .

Jean leaned forward towards Sasha to let him know that he would gladly listen to her limited wisdom.

“Jean, you're never going to get her to notice you if you keep pussy footing ‘round her the way you do. You probably hurt her feelings.She’s real shy you know and she was sitting next to you and you were laughing at her like a horse's ass.”

“Huh!? I wasn’t being mean or nothing like that I SWEAR. And she loves Eren.” He said bluntly.It barely hurt his pride anymore to admit outloud.

“I know but she’s never sat alone with you, she probably got frustrated cuz she thought it wasn’t going well.”

“Why would she care?” Jean cocked his head in confusion.

“I don’t know, she's surprisingly sensitive but won't admit to it.” Sasha rolled her eyes.

“Well how do I fix it? “ His stomach was turning at the thought of he and Mikasa’s friendship never deepening. He could never be with her but he would love to know her at least he just didn’t know how. And to think she had made the first step and he had basically pulled his leg out and tripped her.

“Well, just talk to her. Let her know you don’t think she’s weird.” Sasha ordered.

Jean shook his head. He didn’t understand when this change in Mikasa had begun. Maybe it was due to the limited time she had with Eren and Armin. Or just the fact that everything had become generally more peaceful despite the possibility of war in the future.

War against people. Jean shivered at the thought.

“Why would I ever think she’s weird?” He asked Sasha.

“Just be brave like she was trying to be.” This made him snort. To think Mikasa was scared of him or cared about what he thought of her was laughable.

Roses don’t think about the opinions of dandelions.

***

Mikasa had been watching Jean pacing outside the women's barracks for the past 10 minutes. At first she wondered if he had come to check on her but that was silly Jean probably didn’t think of her that much. Not that she had thought of him much either.

Just lately, she was.

She had been lonely as of late after all.

With Eren and Armin being titans she was beginning to desire to expand her circle and she felt that Connie and Jean were already friends in lots of ways. In ways that mattered. But one day when speaking to Sasha she realized she didn’t know Jean or Connie as well as she should. Connie was easy to speak to all though tiring after an extended interaction alone without Sasha to match his energy and distract him. Throughout the week for some odd reason she found herself growing nervous to approach Jean alone.

He was probably waiting for Sasha. She told herself.

A transfer from the Garrison, an older woman who was in her early twenties broke out into a grin when she caught sight of Mikasa who was sorting her money in her wallet at the moment . Mikasa just gave her (she believed her name was Lyra) a quick nod and continued sorting her coins.

“I had no clue you were such a heartbreaker.” The woman giggled.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Mikasa said blandly, not looking up from her coins. The older women loved teasing her for being a stick in the mud and she wasn’t in the mood.

“Mr.Hero of Shiganshina with the long face.” The woman who may be called Lyra giggled at her stupid pun.

“You mean Jean.” It annoyed her to hear the woman make fun of Jean like he wasn’t five times the soldier she would ever be.

“Yes. Heard him muttering your name and rehearsing some little speech.” Mikasa perked up at the information. It was a hot summer day and she felt a little guilty not even checking on him now. She got up quickly leaving her coins on the bed and without another glance at the woman.

Right outside the door was Jean as she walked up to him he was once again caught up in his own little world taking no notice of her approach. It worried her that a soldier such as himself had that habit.

“Jean.” She said softly from a yard away.

“Oh,Mikasa! Hullo.I wanted to chat with you.” He smiled confidently but she could see in his eyes it was his usual facade.

“Hi. Is everything okay?” She asked.

“Well fine enough, i-is it a bad time?”

“No I’m just surprised to see you out here for me when it’s so hot I s’pose….Let’s take a walk.” She didn’t want the nosy woman to watch them through the window. Although there would be nothing to tell.

“Sure.. Okay.” He agreed his voice was full of an awkwardness she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I just wanted to apologize. I will be honest I’m not sure what I said to upset you but I regret it.”

“I forgive you.” She answered.

They continued walking for about 30 more paces when Jean broke the silence

“That’s it?” He nearly yelled. Anyone would think he was angry but she knew him long enough to know he was riled up.

Mikasa nodded. “I’m sorry that I acted so irrationally and I appreciate that you apologized over something so silly. Thanks.” She turned to walk back to the barracks when she felt a hand upon her wrist.

“I can’t stand that!” He said with surprising fervor. She hadn’t seen that side of Jean since the fighting had ended. “What's the matter? You said it yourself, it was silly so something has to be bothering you.”

Mikasa stared at him with his mouth open.

“You're going to catch a fly.” He let go of her wrist and tapped lightly on the bottom of her chin making them both take an automatic step back from the oddly personal gesture.

“You laughed at me and I’m tired of it.” she said through gritted teeth.

“Huh? When?” He cocked his head to the side and tapped his temple with his finger as though it would help him remember. No matter how large Jean grew or mature he tried to be he always reminded him of an expressive child.

“You compared me to Levi and you laughed and then when we were talking about food I thought it was simple enough and you laughed at me again.” She pointed out.

“I’m sorry I won’t laugh again if -”

“No," she interrupted. “I don’t want you to stop it’s just since all those Garrison transfers came in they laugh at me all the time even when I’m just saying something simple. It’s as though I’m dumb or a little kid and I’m sick of them. I took it out on you. I’m sorry too.” Mikasa finished.

“Well just to clarify, I just meant you and Levi are similar, maybe in a related way since you both are distantly at least. I suppose it wasn’t very funny. I know he gets on your nerves at times but it really is a compliment. I respect him just as I do you. And I laughed the second time because you are so blunt but you say it in such a sweet way I can’t even get angry. And it just made me nervous I guess.”

Mikasa chuckled bitterly. “Jean, you don’t get nervous. Not around people at least.”

“Yes I do! I’m nervous right now.” He insisted.

“Why?” She asked. Jean, even when he could be an ass, always had people around him and he always seemed to eat it up and within the past year in the Scouts, although Jean changed in his manner,he took it with stride whenever a Cadet asked for some advice or took charge of training the fresh recruits.

“Because I don’t want you to be upset with me. We’re comrades and well I respect you a-nd and I hope we could be more than that!” He blurted out.

“You want to be friends too?” She asked suddenly, feeling tension was she unaware of leaving her body.

The boy in front of her was red all over and in the moment she could tell very much he was nervous.

“Yes,” He chuckled wryly. “Friends, I would love for us all to be better friends.” He smiled widely. It was different from his usual cocky smirking. It was earnest and sweet and she liked it very much.

#For Solivagantress #Jeankasa #Writing Prompt #Thank you for the ask #ask

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in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather · 2 years

Text

The Bear and the Maiden Fair - part 7

Summary: To reestablish himself in society and align with Count Pierre, your father gives your hand in marriage to Jacques Le Gris, his favorite squire. You, knowing his reputation as a newly established rich squire with little breeding and womanizing ways, are vehemently opposed to the idea.

Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!

I'll never dance with a hairy bear!

A bear! A bear!

I'll never dance with a hairy bear!

The bear, the bear!

Lifted her high into the air!

The bear! The bear!

~Series Masterpost~

Chapter summary: some last minute twists and turns as Jacques gets ready to set off for Cherbourg

CW: short physical altercation, mature towards the end

Word count: ~4.5k

On the way back from Lisieux, Jacques thought it was only fair to prepare his one time friend for the potentially turbulent events once they returned to Exmes.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? From watching you, I didn’t get the impression you wanted this at all.” – Jean frowned at Jacques’ word, adjusting in his saddle to ease some pain in his back. He had often been injured and he suffered an illness not too long ago that left him achy when he was active for too long.

“It’s not me who wants it.” – Jacques’ voice was unusually flat and uncertain. He had not confided about the state of his marriage to almost anyone, let alone someone who would likely gladly use the information against him, but Jean was here and the matter could not be postponed.

“Really? I didn’t get that impression either…” – Jean thought out loud. – “But you did always tell me that I was the only man who was—”

“…blind despite two healthy eyes.” – they finished the sentence in unison and smiled fondly over the many times Jacques had benevolently upbraided his friend. – “Things have taken a… surprising… and pleasant turn recently.” – Jacques confessed and Jean almost balked at his apparent shyness. Jacques Le Gris, whose conquests were stuff of legend, retold like Herculean feats, now quite literally blushed to speak of, of all people, his own wife. – “But you know the danger we are heading into. I believe she will find my arrangement preferable to a period of mourning of two years or more before she can remarry.”

“So you’ve decided very sternly to die then? And you can’t be talked out it? You might have told me this before I agreed to follow you to Cherbourg.” – Jean teased.

“It is a strong possibility, that is all. I don’t expect you or your men to fight battles once you deem them lost. My honor as the warden of that castle, however, compels me to stay when otherwise I would not.”

On the road to Exmes, Jacques and Jean’s company came across the archbishop’s retinue. By now all parties were aware of what was unfolding, so the two groups merged in a solemn mood, making their way to Jacques’ castle.

“How is Grégoire?” – Jacques asked in his cheeky tone, dispelling the thick silence that hung around the rhythmic crunching of wheels and clacking of horses’ hoofs.

“The Pope, my lord…” – the archbishop emphasized, admonishing. – “is well, by the grace of God. I would expect a cleric to speak of him with more reverence.”

“I might expect that too.” – Jacques shrugged and Jean bit his lips to keep a chuckle from escaping. – “But my lack of reverence is likely why the church life and I are fundamentally incompatible.”

“That and many other reasons.” – Jean chimed in and Jacques’ chest bubbled with a warm memories of the old, light-hearted friendship they once had.

“Given your request to annul your marriage on the grounds of it being unconsummated, you might reconsider that stance. You may be a man of the church after all.” – the archbishop revealed he was not above petty jibes and Jean’s amusement only grew, evidenced by his distinct muffled laughter in the background.

Jacques took a steadying breath. He was well practiced in the art of taking insults from pompous fools. – “The Pope still hasn’t departed for Rome?” - he changed the subject with ease. – “The Italians are keeping with hands full with their wicked little insurrections, aren’t they?”

“True.” – the archbishop’s response was curt and haughty. The Avignon papacy was quickly coming to an end and there was irreconcilable conflict between the French and Italian legates and governors. – “That is why he couldn’t pay your rather vulgar matter the full scope of his attention. But I’m sure you understand. From what I hear, you have your hands full with your own insurrections up north.”

It was Jacques’ turn to bite his tongue and try to seem nonplussed. The church may be busy with its own wars, but the English were a threat to all of France, not just him. – “The exorbitant fees for these vulgar matters sweeten the pot regardless of how busy the church is with its politics, it seems. After all, you did come on very short notice.”

“You can be a very uncouth man when you endeavor to do so, lord Le Gris.” – the archbishop stuck up his nosy like a petulant duchess. – “I am here because you situation is urgent and dire.”

“And I am eternally grateful, archbishop.” – Jacques gave an exaggerated bow and rode ahead, tiring of the conversation.

Instead of welcoming your husbands in the courtyard, Jean sent word ahead to Marguerite to wait in their chamber and Jacques asked that you meet him in the solar. You two parted with concerned looks and you dashed over to wait for the men.

The first to enter was the archbishop, in gilded, glittering robes, flanked by another clergyman. Behind him followed Jacques and Jean, and Louvel came last, closing the door behind them. The small room was fuller than usual and a grave tension filled the air.

The archbishop wasted no breath in reassuring you. He stuck out a soft hand and offered a ring to be kissed. You went down on one knee and did as he expected. Before you could get up, he stated his business. - “Baroness, by the powers vested in me by His Holiness, the Pope, I have come to serve upon you the papers of annulment, formally ending your marriage to squire Jacques Le Gris.”

Your mouth, gaping indecently, tripped him up for a moment, but he recollected and shifted his weight on one foot, lips pursed impatiently, like you were an uncooperative child. – “Since the marriage has not been consummated, my lady, under Christian law, it does not exist.”

Though successfully drawn closed, your mouth refused to speak until you swallowed, hard and uncomfortable. - “My marriage exists, Your Excellency.” – you countered and shot a frantic look over to Jacques, thinking someone must have lied – or, in reality, told the truth – about you to the authorities. He must have been holding back an outburst out of decency or wariness in front of Carrouges.

“The church has this on good authority. I would not have traveled all the way from Avignon under different circumstances.”

“Forgive me, but I don’t know what you mean.” – his tone was far too self-important for your liking. Your eyes narrowed at him and tried to keep your face stern.

The archbishop sighed. - “I have been assured by your husband himself that his wife remains a virgo intacta, my lady. But I am perfectly happy to verify—“

“I’m sure you are.” – you raised an unimpressed eyebrow as you cocked your head him.

The man blustered and Jean snorted, Jacques’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. – “What I mean, naturally, is, I can have it arranged—“

“You will arrange nothing. No annulment is happening here today.” – you crossed your arms over your chest. So this ridiculous, irrational mess was Jacques’ doing. Very well. If you had experience getting furious at someone, it was at him.

The archbishop noticed your sudden confidence too. – “No?”

“No, I am afraid you have been ill informed.”

“My lord?” - he looked over his shoulder, exasperated, like telling a kennelmaster to kick a whining cur and shut him up.

You looked over his shoulder too, gaze scorching. Jacques looked back and you could swear he was pleading with his eyes to just make this easy. – “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding.” – you placated, voice taking on a lightness you resolutely did not feel. – “Can I talk to you in private?”

Your dulcet tone was dripping with danger and Jacques deflated as he opened the door for you, looking down as you walked past him.

The small effort of feigning calmness was for naught, since everyone could plainly hear you screaming as soon as the door was shut behind you and you were safely in your bed chamber.

“How dare you do this to me?” – you cracked the question like a whip and Jacques recoiled, mainly from the sharp tone. – “You want to just send me away? Like I’m nothing to you, like I’m some whore at Pierre’s bacchanals?”

“We’re asking me what I want?” – he yelled back with his hands on his chest in question, eyes wide and angry. When you just glared back, he went on. – “Apologies, it’s just so rare that anyone asks me anything at all anymore, I find myself unused to the very idea! To answer you, my Aphrodite, I don’t want that at all! I’m only giving you the option that you so vehemently insisted that you wanted!”

He was so busy gesticulating and finally airing out some of his frustrations, neck laced with furious veins and arms flailing wildly around, that he noticed too late you slipped off a heavy ring. He only registered it when your arm sliced through the air and a moment later, the stone laid in ornate gold pinged off his eyebrow, splitting the skin open. He let out a pained growl and flew at you as you made for one of the glasses resting by a water jug. Jacques snatched you away and the items on the table went clattering down as you pulled on the tablecloth.

He pinned you on the bed, straddling over your hips and sitting down with his considerable weight, pushed your air out in a graceless grunt. He snatched the tablecloth out of your hands so forcefully you wondered for a moment if he ripped out a nail with it. You didn’t get a chance to check as he quickly caught your wrists and pinned those down too.

“And another thing! I am growing less amused by this target practice of yours by the day!” – he raised his voice the closer he got to your face and you shut your eyes, cringing away. You regretted these outbursts as soon as they happened as well, but there was no stopping them when he was just so infuriating. You struggled against his weight and grip, but you knew it was useless. However, he chose to chuckle at your futile efforts, only causing you to redouble them. You did not get yourself so much as an inch loose from him, yet your throat ached from the growls of effort, sweat breaking out, and you finally fell into a limp heap, breathing fast and hard. Jacques waited patiently until you wore yourself out, but he was not fooled. He kept his grip as tight as ever as he asked calmly. – “Am I to understand that you want to stay with me and be my wife? For real this time?”

“Yes, obviously!” – you shot up and he congratulated himself mentally for not letting you go earlier. He knew the kind of hellion he married.

Jacques took his time, watching through the mess of curls that framed his face and obstructed his view, as you panted under him and stared daggers, trying to kill, or at least seriously injure, him for trying to leave you. A dangerous heat seeped into his core, radiating out and surging to cloud his better judgment. He licked his lips and they pulled into a smile, so big and bright it nearly pushed his eyes shut. – “Well, that’s easily arranged. All you had to do was ask.”

He released you and retreated quickly, correctly anticipating you would attack him with your petal fists pulled into buds. - “Don’t think I’ll soon forget this infamy.”

“Oh, I know how long your memory is, my fire-breathing viper.” - Jacques smirked and experimentally lowered his face towards yours. You were suspiciously still and seemed to be calculating something. When he neared even further, he got his face grabbed, crumpled and pushed aside, snorting a laugh into your palm. He sat back and let you sit up, finally getting a proper lungful of air. Then, Jacques got his face grabbed again, this time for you to peck a rough – warning – kiss into his lips that you pursed with you squeezing fingers.

When you emerged from the bed chamber, markedly worse for wear, it was obvious by everyone’s averted eyes that your clash and reconciliation was heard by all.

No one spoke for a moment, unsure about what just happened and what it was supposed to mean, so you raised your chin imperiously and looked at the archbishop. - “The matter is settled, Your Excellency.” – you waited and when he made no move to leave, you grew impatient, looking at all the men standing there like witless statues. – “Leave us.” – your tone bordered on aggressive and Jacques wrapped an arm around your waist; his lips pulled in an awkward line, shooting apologies at his guests with his eyes.

“My lady. I have traveled all the way from Avignon—”

“And I thank you for your pains, truly. If you are so insistent on dissolving marriages, maybe you should look around the castle and the surrounding grounds, you may be surprised what you find.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” – Carrouges frowned, arm twitching reflexively towards his sword.

Jacques flexed his arm around you; not all men were as adept as taking tongue lashings as he was and few were willing to forgive them. – “I only mean I’m sure there are things to keep you occupied around Alençon and Exmes; idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, after all.”

Louvel’s sandy moustache danced from the smiles he was trying to hide – he had a sizeable bet going with his de facto master that you would not accept an annulment and he could already feel his purse getting heavier - and he shuffled his feet loudly on the floor to draw everyone’s attention as he opened the door and held it for the group to file out.

Jean was confused and, frankly, a little disappointed that yet another thing that should have been a loss to his slippery friend turned into an unexpected victory.

You were left alone for mere moments before Louvel cracked the door open, apology already written on his face. – “I’m sorry to disturb, my lord and lady, but the captains and bannerets are getting restless, they need to see you.”

“I know; thank you, Louvel.” – Jacques nodded and waited until he heard his retreating footsteps grow quieter outside the door.

“What possessed you to do this?” – you sighed, asking the most important question first since you had very limited time with him.

Instead of summarizing nearly a year of marriage where he suffered incessant insults and rumors, Jacques raised an eyebrow and his face showed all the disdain and exhaustion that had built in him. There was nothing to say in return that would justify you except that somehow, at times behind your own back and other times right in front of your face, you heart had changed. – “Aside from the obvious…” – he rolled his eyes and there was something humorous in his tone despite everything. – “I wanted to let you go free rather than make you a widow who had to waste years mourning a husband she never had. Besides, I sent for that pompous prick weeks ago, soon after the Auberts arrived and everything looked so grim. I can admit that things have changed since then.”

There were many things that needed to be said, but Jacques was already turning away from you and angling towards the door. So you did the only thing you could and said what you needed to with a kiss. No fighting, no glaring, no provocation. Just a simple, earnest kiss you wanted to give freely. Jacques softened immediately, melding into you like a cat leaning into a loving touch, and pulled you close. He reluctantly kept it from deepening too much, somehow slipping away every time you thought you had him. Finally, he pulled away and kissed your forehead, sighing into your hair and taking a step back.

He walked to the door, you trailing behind with both your hands clasped around his. Jacques left kisses on your lips, nose, cheeks all the while he was snaking away and wriggling out of the door, leaving you with one last breathtaking, resolute seal on the lips and closing the door between you. As soon as the door was shut, the swell of excitement burst and you crashed back down to earth, heart slowly sinking to your feet without him there.

Jacques felt the same awful sinking, so doubled back and swung the door open, nearly taking your nose off with it and stole another lightning-fast kiss before running down the corridor, away from temptation, cape flying behind him like a black banner.

Jacques had many people to talk to and even more men to tend to, make sure they were clothed, armed, fed, their horses too – and time was working against him. So much so that their departure was brought up a day, meaning they were riding out to Alençon in the morning. Carrouges rightly pointed out it made little sense to wait for the larger group to arrive to Exmes; it was preferable to save time and meet on Pierre’s land – vast and rich and that much closer to their ultimate destination.

When he returned for dinner with Jean in tow, you were already waiting with Marguerite. She was more composed and poised than you; the day had taken a toll. Not only the incident with the archbishop, but for most of the day, you had been embroidering and realized how much you had fallen out of that habit. Without your father’s watchful eye and without the burden of an overbearing husband that demanded a typical wife, you had been free to pursue other interests. You lacked the same calluses on your fingers that allowed your friend to work for hours and the concentration to go with it. Eyes hazy and fingers sore, you felt the same stiffness Jacques felt after marching back and forth for hours, listening to squabbles and complaints and cowardly proclamations from the gathered troops.

Dinner was a solemn, mostly quiet affair, with brief spurts of conversation during which it was decided Marguerite would stay with you as long as she wanted or until Jean’s mother’s summoned her. Marguerite knew the latter would come first and all too soon; that old sow was only happy when she was ruining her good mood, but any day spent away from her was a day she would cherish. Jacques had no particular instructions for you, trusting you to take good care of the estate until his return.

Afterwards, the men retired to the solar to keep discussing the damn campaign and you paced around restlessly while Marguerite sat and read by the fire.

“I know how these men-at-arms are before a campaign; they’ll be terribly upset if you interrupt them.” – she warned, feeling you teetering on the edge of storming right in.

“If Jacques hasn’t been upset at some of the things I’ve done thus far…”

“He may be charitable, but Jean… certainly won’t be.”

“Well, that is his concern.” – you muttered, mind made up all the more firmly.

“It’s also mine, I’m the one who’ll be dealing with him.” – Marguerite reminded.

You stopped, not wanting to be a reason for them to argue. Besides, you wanted Jean happy enough to consider future visits as well, and Jacques’ famed charm didn’t seem to be working its usual magic this time.

“Oh, go on.” – she shrugged, knowing you were as miserable as she was, only in a different way. – “Just make sure to make it count.”

You could have sworn she winked at you before returning to her book and you dashed out the door and up the stairs.

Jean and Jacques were speaking in low, rumbling tones, their weariness evident in their posture and the long faces they wore. Some of the candles illuminating the room had gone out, but they still hunched over Jacques’ desk; two glasses of wine they didn’t bother refilling resting nearby, maps spread over every flat surface and a few books lay open.

Jacques followed you with his eyes as you entered, whispering a short apology for the interruption, and walked over to his chair. Jean leaned back in his, casting a questioning look your way. He could count on one hand the times Marguerite had been in his solar and he needed no fingers at all to count how many times she had seen it fit to interrupt him when he had business with someone.

“I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you.” – you announced, looking down on Jacques who was still busy inspecting some papers in front of him. Jean knew that look on your face; many women bore it around Le Gris when they had a mind to have their brains talked out by Jacques. But being a military man through and through, not to mention sticking his neck out for a bastard that at times seemed to exist solely to torment him, Carrouges was in no mood to delay any vital preparations just because some lady finally decided to uncross her…lips for Jacques.

“We have urgent business and not a lot of time, lady.” – Jean pointed out and you met his eyes. They were so cold. Some of the coldest you’d seen. Instead of remarking on that, your fingers curled around the fabric on Jacques’ shoulder, grateful that this man, and not any other, was your husband.

“I have equally urgent business and a similar time constraint. Squire.” – the word was out, coated in disdain, and you quickly bowed your head to hide your glare, but the damage was done.

Jean bristled and shot up out of his chair. You would remember the day you spoke to him that way, if only you were on his land or wed to him. He looked at Jacques and made no attempt to hide his disapproval of you and your gall. – “Excellent moment you found to finally start… talking.”

Jacques lifted his hands in supplication, begging the both of you to stop fighting over him like dogs over a bone. – “Jean, why don’t you give us just a few moments?”

Rage spiked in Carrouges, who saw himself as doing an unworthy friend an enormous favor. And now his conceited wife was pushing him around and wasting precious time. – “I know what ‘a few moments’ means with you! I’m retiring for the night. Just be ready to ride to Alençon in the morning.” – he warned and left without wishing you a good night, only giving an almost imperceptible nod.

Jacques deflated, head falling against the back of his chair with an irritated sigh.

You twirled and gathered your skirt, falling into his lap and making him lurch forward. Wasting no time, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and kissed him so hard your teeth hurt.

He didn’t make any effort to resist, letting his hands wander over your hips, up your waist and back and into your hair, taking out pins and ribbons, unbraiding with the practiced ease of a masterful lover and letting your hair fall loose.

He pushed it over your shoulder, the tickle followed by his warm hand and wet lips made a shudder ripple through you, straight down to your core and all the way to your toes. His beard burned slightly across the sensitive, now inflamed skin, but he soothed it with his lips and tongue, making you dizzy.

Jacques rested his cheek against your chest, rising and falling like you’d run all the way from Paris. He felt your heart thumping under his ear and his chest swelled with the knowledge he, he made you feel this way.

You hadn’t realized he’d unlooped the leather holding the sides of your dress together and gasped when you realized his hand, large and warm, rested on the cotton shift you were wearing underneath. He ran a finger over the soft swell of flesh, circling his thumb until he felt the peak pull together and stiffen under it, rubbing the fabric into it, the sensation making you ball your fists together and pull on his hair in the process. You watched him silently and he seemed like a musician who knew exactly what he was doing, what string to pluck to draw out sweet notes from you. It hardly mattered what he did next; you trusted you were in good hands and you just wanted him to keep going.

He cupped and squeezed, rounding the soft flesh under his lips and left a trail of messy, wet kisses over the breast, along your chest, up to your throat. His eyes closed when you squirmed deliciously in his lap, rubbing your thighs together and thrumming for him.

His breath was hot and sent pleasant waves through you when he murmured into your ear. – “Do you remember what I once told you?” – he played with the shell of your ear and pecked his way along your jaw until he pulled back far enough to peer into your eyes.

“You talk a lot. I can’t be sure what you’re referring to.” – you breathed and sank into his lips again. His fingers teased, crawling over your thigh as he bunched your skirt up, gathering the layers into his hand and hiking it up to your hips. His kiss curved into a smile and you smiled too, welcoming the brush of his hand up your leg and pulling down a stocking.

“Let me remind you then.” – he rasped and dug his nails into your skin, scratching lightly as he left your skin exposed and stocking bunched around the ankle. – “A warm night in late spring. You had tried to run off. Then you tickled me with a little toothpick knife and vowed this” – he ran his hand up between your legs and squeezed the soft flesh of your inner thigh hard, making you wince and clap your legs together; the feeling unpleasant and pleasant at once – “would never happen.”

He nuzzled at your face and left a few kisses on your cheek, so you relaxed, concluding he wanted to relish his little victory over your pride for a bit. It was childish in a way, but you had your childish moments too, so you decided to let it go.

“And I vowed something to you too.” – he reminded in a shrewd, self-satisfied tone. Eyebrows knitted together, you tried to remember as your stomach filled with a chilly dread you couldn’t quite explain. You might have remembered, but his hands, his lips were still everywhere, making it almost impossible to think.

“I told you you would not have the pleasure of my touch until you begged for it.” – he said and it all stopped. No more hands, no more scratchy beard burning along your skin and soothing kisses in its wake. Jacques pulled back and rested against his chair, like a king on a throne, watching you all feverish and half-mad, his face smug and aglow in triumph.

#jacques le gris x reader #Jacques le gris x you

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canarygirl1017 · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Reader / Jungkook, Reader / Taehyung (past relationship, friends to lovers to friends)

Genre: College!au, fluff, angst, supernatural drama, smut, friends to lovers, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort

Length: 9, 203k words

Warnings: language, episodes of anxiety, panic attacks, sexual themes in later chapters.

Summary: Living in a world full of things only you have the ability to see, growing up with Jungkook has been your island amidst the chaos. But when your best friend makes an impossible request, your friendship is fractured, and your sudden decision to cut ties and move abroad changes everything. Three years later, Jungkook is thriving at university as he begins his junior year. He’s a star athlete, member of a popular fraternity, and every girl’s ideal boyfriend. He tells himself that he’s long forgotten you and the friendship he never had a chance to mend – that is, until you show up on campus as a transfer student with new friends in tow. It’s been three years, and everything has changed, but the biggest change is you. Your new found determination to use your abilities to help the ghosts you used to live in fear of, no matter how dangerous it might be, makes Jungkook fear he’ll lose you before he has a chance to fix what he broke. College AU.

Disclaimer: Just for funsies, I don’t believe in real-life shipping. But I like to write, and I like fandom, so here we are. Please do not duplicate this work or repost anywhere else without permission.

Tag List: @ggukkieland @jikooksgirl19 @waves-and-woods @kookiesbreaky @koochiekoo @monvieesdaebak @kb-bangtanenthusiast @mwitsmejk @justvibingsblog @gerigonzalezme

I hope I remembered all the people who asked to be tagged (and got the tags right.) If you’d like to be tagged for updates, let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“You ready to go?”

You turned to see Taehyung leaning in your doorway. He was wearing flared jeans and a green paisley silk button-down shirt. The open butterfly collar revealed a vintage Chanel gold medallion, and he’d added light green sunglasses to complete his retro look.

Taehyung had picked out your outfit – a short, cream-colored wrap dress with an abstract floral design and long flared sleeves. Knee high rust red boots and pin straight hair completed the look, and for once you felt like a match to his fashionable appearance.

You held up a finger as you opened your jewelry box, looking for the vintage garnet drop earrings you’d found to complement the outfit. You slid them in, moving your hair back to admire how they dangled and caught the light.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, turning to find him behind you.

“Almost,” he said, pulling a small box out of his pocket.

“Tae,” you said reprovingly as he opened the box and took out a ring. The antique gold setting was beautiful – an oval opal surrounded by a halo of garnets – and it looked perfect when he slid it onto your right ring finger.

“Now you’re ready,” he said, looking pleased as he stood back to check your appearance.

You raised a brow. “When did you even have time to shop for this?” Taehyung’s little surprise gifts were something to which you’d become accustomed over the last few years, and your attempts to discourage him were usually ignored.

He shrugged and as always, his sheepish grin disarmed you. You reached up and adjusted his collar.

“You look like you’re ready for a Vogue shoot,” you said, smiling back. “The poor girls at this party won’t know what hit them.”

“That’s why I have you to protect me,” he replied.

It was Friday, the final weekend before classes started, and the welcoming activities had ramped up in the last week. You and Taehyung had attended some of them and declined others, but you’d committed to the biggest events of the weekend – tonight’s Musical Eras mixer and tomorrow’s Movie Night on the Quad.

The mixer was being held at the Kappa fraternity house, something that had almost made you reconsider attending because you were certain to run into Jungkook again as you had for the last week. While your anger had cooled, you still felt that knot of anxiety in your stomach whenever you saw him, wondering if he’d still be angry or if he’d just pretend you didn’t exist.

So far, his attitude fell somewhere in the middle – when he saw you and Taehyung together at the supermarket, he tried to hide his reaction, but the little muscle ticking away in his jaw was a dead giveaway. A couple of days later, you saw him in the park while you were walking Yeontan and for once, he didn’t look big mad at the sight of you. You were alone and had considered trying to talk to him, but he was with friends. Not wanting to invite public rejection, you waved at the group and hurried away, noticing the little wrinkle between his brows as he watched you go.

Jin, Jimin and Jimin’s girlfriend, Ayeong, had all been by the house a couple of times. Sera had also visited with her mother, accepting Taehyung’s offer of a house tour since Sera’s mother was interested in how the historical home had been renovated. Jungkook was noticeably absent, though Jin seemed certain that he’d eventually come around.

You weren’t so certain of that. In all the years you’d been friends with Jungkook, you’d never seen him so deeply upset with another person. If someone upset him, he might avoid that person for a while, but he always got over it, and you’d never seen him blow up at anyone the way he had with you.

You always thought you knew him better than anyone, and he you, but now you had to acknowledge the reality of this situation – three years had passed, and the truth was, you didn’t know this Jungkook. Worse, he didn’t know you either and you had no one to blame for that but yourself.

________________

Stepping into the Kappa house was like stepping back in time. The large house had several rooms downstairs, each of which reflected a different decade of music, and everyone had taken their costumes just as seriously. You laughed when Jimin and Ayeong met you out front dressed as Sonny and Cher.

“Very nice,” you said, gesturing to Ayeong’s dress.

“Thanks, I love yours too.”

Thought it was still early, the party was already a crush of people circulating between the rooms. Younger guys, probably freshmen, circulated with drinks on trays which they offered to guests.

“Pledges?” Taehyung asked Jimin as he took a beer.

Jimin nodded. “They have to put in an hour according to a schedule and then they’re free to party. That’s as close to hazing as we get here.”

When Jimin offered you a glass of wine, you shook your head. “I don’t really drink much when I’m…” you paused, unsure how to finish the sentence without being weird. “When I’m out.”

You could see that Jimin understood what you meant. “Got it. We have a dry bar too if you want to call it that.”

Ayeong linked arms with you. “I’ll show her. I’m not really in the mood to drink either.”

The dry bar turned out to be pretty impressive, with lots of juice, sparkling water, club soda, and even different types of fruit. You settled for club soda with a splash of raspberry juice and slices of lemon while Ayeong created a tropical drink.

“I know Jungkook is being… well, difficult. But I just want you to know that Jimin is so happy you’re back,” Ayeong said. “He said you were all friends since kindergarten.”

“Jimin was always one of the sweetest people at our school,” you replied. “It was really easy to be his friend.”

“Not much has changed then,” Ayeong laughed. “What about Jungkook? Jimin says he wasn’t always such a fuckboy.”

You choked on a sip of your drink. “Jungkook is a fuckboy?”

“Well, a nice one? I think he only hooks up with girls who want the same kind of no-strings fun, so there’s never any drama related to it. He’s not the type to get serious though, which is why I’ve told Erin she needs to move on from her crush.”

Fuckboy Jungkook wasn’t something you could really imagine, nor did you want to. You chose not to think too closely about why it bothered you so much.

But once you spotted him across the room talking to a group of girls, you couldn’t shake that image from your mind. He looked good. Really, really good. He was dressed in tight red pants, a black silk button down, and he’d completed his Michael Jackson Thriller homage with a red leather jacket trimmed in black. When he laughed at something one of the girls said and then pressed his lips together, his dimples appeared.

“I’m surprised Jungkook is wearing a costume – he almost never does,” Ayeong commented.

“He kind of stopped wearing them by the time we were in high school,” you said. “But this kind of party, plus a Thriller homage, is pretty on brand for him.”

“Oh, that’s who he’s supposed to be! I’m really bad at guessing all of these costumes.”

You and Taehyung stuck with Jimin and Ayeong, who introduced you to people you hadn’t met yet. Everyone was welcoming, but two hours in you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise. There was also the fact that ever since Jungkook became aware of your presence, you’d felt his eyes on you. You’d hoped his neutral response to you at the park was progress, but you could feel his judgmental stare like a brand.

Every time you glanced over at him, his impassive expression was contradicted by some blazing emotion in his eyes. You reminded yourself that you’d known this would probably be a struggle – that Jungkook would likely be angry with you for leaving. Emmie had even said that no one mentioned your name to him anymore.

You’d just underestimated how much it would hurt.

___________________

Jungkook almost skipped Movie Night on the Quad because he was in a foul mood after the Musical Eras mixer. Seeing you there with Taehyung in your matching costumes had made him inexplicably angry, something Jin called him out on.

“Shouldn’t we be glad that she has good people in her life?” Jin asked him when he stomped around the kitchen the next day, slamming cabinets as he fixed a late breakfast.

“He’s right,” Jimin said. “Plus you know that she and Taehyung aren’t together, right?”

That made him pause. “They look like they’re together.” Fucking matching costumes and all, he thought viciously.

“They dated, but Ayeong said y/n told her it’s been a while since they were together like that. At least six months or so.”

“Who the hell follows their ex-girlfriend to another country? And buys a house?”

“If you took the time to get to know Taehyung, you’d understand that he feels like y/n saved his life. He’s committed to helping her with the ghost hunting because of that, but he also genuinely cares about her. So do Namjoon and Chloe,” Jin said. “They’re all good people.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook muttered, shoving cereal into his mouth.

“Forget it, Jin. He won’t admit the real problem, and we all know his anger default setting when it comes to y/n is because of that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jungkook demanded.

“You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of anyone that got close to y/n,” Jimin replied calmly. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

Jungkook grit his teeth. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really? So every time a guy expressed interest in dating her back in high school, and you very pointedly warned them all off, that was you just being what? A good friend?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who? Like Lucas? You’re damn right I warned him off. He didn’t deserve her.”

“What about me?” Jimin asked, a challenge in his tone. “I told you that I liked her our sophomore year, and you shot down that idea so fast I was afraid if I pursued it, it would actually ruin our friendship.”

Jungkook stared at him, shifting uncomfortably. “Because you weren’t serious about it.”

“Says who? I was dead serious, Jungkook, and you know it. For that matter, I think even Lucas was serious about liking her. He never said a word about her that wasn’t totally respectful.”

“Yeah, because he knew I would beat his ass,” Jungkook replied irritably.

“You’re right – everybody knew that. Why do you think people steered clear of her? Why do you think Grace hated her so much? I told you that Grace wasn’t as nice as you thought she was, but you still held tight to y/n with one hand while you chased after her. And I figured it was just a matter of time until you realized how you really felt about y/n, so I let it go. But damn, Jungkook, you need to stop getting mad and let her explain why she left.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Jungkook asked, “Has she told you why?”

“I asked her,” Jin said. “But I think she’s waiting to talk to you first.”

Jungkook tried not to think about what Jimin said, but now that he was here on the quad, and you were just a few feet away, it was all he could think about. Jealousy.

He couldn’t deny he hated seeing how close you were to Taehyung. The way the other man touched you, or kept a protective arm around you, pissed him off. The way you smiled at him made him even angrier. Still, beneath the anger was something else – a yearning for the way things had been. No one had ever understood him the way you did, and he missed that connection with you.

It was his fault you left. That little voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that you weren’t the only one to blame for this vast distance between you now. He kind of understood why you’d left, but he didn’t know why it had taken you so long to return.

He kept stealing glances at you rather than watching the movie playing on the large screen set up on the quad. You’d been to the concession stand, and he wasn’t surprised to see you eating gummy bears since that had always been your favorite movie snack.

You looked pretty. Your hair was a little longer now than it had been in high school and fell in gentle waves around your shoulders. You wore another floaty little summer dress, the kind you had always liked, small feet encased in comfortable flat sandals. You and Taehyung had joined Jimin, Ayeong, Erin and Jin on a large blanket towards the front of the crowd.

Stubbornly, Jungkook had opted to sit with some of his friends from the baseball team. He was still close enough to watch you – to hear your voice – to just observe you while his mind sorted through his confusing thoughts and emotions. You had glanced over at him a few times, as if feeling his eyes on you, a silent question in your own. And somehow, he knew that you understood that he needed some time.

At the intermission between films, you went with Ayeong and Erin to the bathroom. Jungkook got tacos from a nearby food truck and when he returned, he noticed that you were the only one missing from the group. A few minutes later, Taehyung was frowning at his phone after making a call that had gone unanswered.

“I’m going to go check on her,” he heard the other man say as he stood up.

Jungkook hesitated for a few seconds before following him. Taehyung had his phone to his ear again, though again there seemed to be no answer.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked as he caught up to him.

Taehyung turned and scowled at him. Then he sighed. “Ayeong said she stayed back because she got a call from her mom that she needed to answer. Maybe it’s nothing, but she’s been gone for almost twenty minutes, so I just want to make sure nothing happened.”

Jungkook nodded and then they were silent as they walked around the buildings that were still open. The campus was well lit, so it was easy to see the faces of people walking to the dorms or back to the quad. When they didn’t see you anywhere, Taehyung made another call.

“Chloe, I need you to ping y/n’s location and send it to my phone.” He listened for a minute. “Maybe nothing but I can’t find her and I don’t know – I’m getting a weird feeling. Okay, thanks.”

Taehyung’s unease was contagious, and Jungkook shifted from one foot to the other as they waited. Then Taehyung’s phone vibrated, and he studied his screen for a moment before gesturing for Jungkook to follow him. After walking for a few minutes, Jungkook realized they were heading towards a park where students often had lunch or relaxed between classes.

And there you were, a ghostly figure swaying in the moonlight as you hummed a strange tune.

“Fuck.” Taehyung started running.

Jungkook was right behind him. When he reached you, he tried to take your arm to turn you towards them, but Taehyung stopped him.

“Don’t,” he said, a note of warning in his tone. “She’s in a sort of fugue state, and it’s safer if she comes out of it herself.”

Rather than argue, Jungkook walked around to face you, but froze when he saw that your eyes were unfocused, and almost… glowing? It was clear that you didn’t see him, though he was standing right in front of you.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding now. “How do we make her do that?”

“There’s something else here,” Taehyung explained. “It probably tried to communicate with her. Sometimes, if she lets her guard down, or if the spirit is especially powerful, she gets sort of… pulled to the other side. It’s usually because they’re trying to show her something.”

Swallowing hard, Jungkook nodded. “Okay. How do we make her come out of it?”

“We can’t make her, and if we try, it can cause severe shock. She’ll already be in a state of shock when she comes to on her own, so we have to be careful. I’m going to go get the car. You wait here with her and just keep talking to her, okay?”

“Can I touch her hands?”

“Carefully,” Taehyung said. “Don’t pull her or shake her, and don’t try to make her move.”

“Okay.” After Taehyung left, Jungkook pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Jin, I need you to come to the park right now. The one behind the science building.”

You were still humming and swaying when Jungkook reached out to touch your hand. There was no response, so he carefully took both your hands in his.

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he said quietly. “You never dress right for being out at night. You know that you get cold even when it’s not that cold, right?”

He squeezed your hands in an attempt to warm them up. There was no response from you, your eyes still fixed on something he couldn’t see.

“You need to come back now,” he finally said. “I know something else is here, telling you that you need to listen to them and their problems, but you don’t need to stay there, okay? I’m here now, and I know I’ve been mad at you, but I’m not mad anymore. I’m just worried. So, I need you to listen to me now and come back, y/n.”

You shifted slightly, and your eyelids drooped. He thought he felt the faintest twitch of your fingers.

“That’s good. Come back to me.”

“Jungkook?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m here,” he answered. He squeezed your hands again, and a wave of relief swept through him when you suddenly stumbled against him.

“Cold,” you whispered against his shoulder.

Jungkook pulled you in tight against his body and wrapped his arms around you. “I know. You’re okay now.”

You leaned heavily against him, shivering violently now. He kept talking to you as he saw both Jin and Taehyung pulling up to the park.

Taehyung reached for one of your hands, which hung loosely at your sides. “She came out of it?”

Jungkook nodded. “I think she heard me talking to her.”

“What happened?” Jin asked, looking concerned. “Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Taehyung answered. “But she’ll need fluids, at the very least, and we’ll have to keep an eye on her tonight. Her blood pressure and blood sugar always drop after one of these incidents.”

Jungkook remembered how you’d been the night of the library fire. That had been the most terrifying night of his life - getting the call from Jimin and then watching over your unconscious form. You’d been so cold and still, and he’d felt guilty for not being there to protect you.

But he was here now. He helped Taehyung move you into the back of the SUV, sliding in after you. He heard Jin say he’d follow behind and then the door closed as he pulled you close again. You were still shivering, but the way you occasionally murmured his name reassured him that you were more aware of your surroundings than you seemed to be.

When they arrived at Taehyung’s house, Namjoon and Chloe met them outside. Ignoring them, Jungkook slid out of the car and carefully lifted you out. He carried you inside and followed the others up the stairs to your bedroom, where Namjoon had already set up an IV pole. He laid you carefully on the bed.

“Jungkook,” you murmured again, though your eyes remained closed.

“I’m here,” he reassured you.

“Jungkook,” you said again. “Cold.”

“She wants your hoodie,” Taehyung said as Namjoon got the IV bag ready. He moved to the dresser opposite the bed, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a black hoodie which Jungkook recognized as one he’d let you wear pretty often in high school.

Taehyung handed it to him wordlessly, and Jungkook helped you sit up so he could slide your arms into the hoodie. You relaxed almost immediately, breathing evening out, and Jungkook let you settle against him rather than back against the pillows.

You winced when Namjoon slid the needle into one of the veins in your left hand, and Jungkook tightened his arms around you. “It’s okay.” He swallowed hard, feeling unbalanced as he watched the other man secure the IV while Chloe checked your temperature and blood pressure. Then Namjoon pricked your finger to check your blood sugar.

“How is she?” Jungkook finally asked.

“Her blood sugar and blood pressure are both low, which is to be expected,” Namjoon answered. “But she’s a lot calmer than she usually is, probably because you’re here.”

Jungkook hesitated but then asked, “Does she always do this?” When Chloe raised a questioning brow, he added, “Say my name, or ask for me, I mean.”

“Always.” Taehyung leveled him with a look. “She never forgot you, if that’s what you’ve been thinking all this time. I knew your name before she ever even told me about you because when something like this happens? She wants you with her.”

Jin had been hovering near the doorway as they got you settled. Now he sat on the end of the bed and asked, “What the hell happened, exactly?”

Taehyung pulled one of the armchairs closer to the bed as he explained it to Jin. “She’s gotten so much better about blocking their energy that it doesn’t happen very often anymore – not like it did a couple of years ago.”

Jungkook dropped his chin to rest against the top of your head. He didn’t like to think about it – about you being cold and scared and traumatized, asking for him when he wasn’t there. What had he been doing when you were going through that? The guilt he felt was a hot, choking weight in his throat.

He didn’t let you go when Namjoon changed the IV bag and checked your vitals again.

“I don’t think she’ll need to go to the hospital,” Namjoon said. “Her blood sugar is up, and so is her blood pressure. I know she never wants to eat or drink when she wakes up, but we’ll have to push her…”

“I’ll do it,” Jungkook said. “She’ll do it for me.”

“Are you okay?” Jin asked him with a frown. “You’re really tense.”

Jungkook made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders and took a breath. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine – not even a little bit. But there would be time to think about that later.

Namjoon and Chloe left the room, and Jin followed after asking where the bathroom was, leaving Jungkook and Taehyung alone in the room.

“She and I aren’t together anymore.” Taehyung was the first to break the silence. “We had a really long talk about us – about everything, really. She said that she felt like we loved each other but weren’t in lovewith each other. And maybe she was right about that. I understand what she means, anyway. But the thing is…”

Jungkook waited for him to continue.

“I do love her,” Taehyung finally said. “She came back here to answer all of her what ifs, and you’re a big one. But if you don’t love her enough to take the bad with the good, I’m asking you to make that clear to her and let her move on.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Taehyung stood up and left the room. He tried not to feel resentful towards the other man, but it was hard. He resented the fact that he’d been the one you’d turned to for the past three years. He knew it was foolish, and petty, and he wasn’t exactly angry about it anymore. He wasn’t angry with you. He just hated that those three years away from each other existed at all.

He thought Jimin was right. He was jealous, and he needed to figure out what that meant.

You woke up about an hour later, and then Jungkook was busy coaxing you to sip juice and nibble the dry crackers Chloe brought. You wrinkled your nose at him, but you didn’t argue, and you didn’t question why he was there. Namjoon finally determined that you were stable, and he removed the IV. Jungkook stayed until you fell asleep again, still wearing his hoodie.

________________

The first week of classes passed quickly. You were settling into campus life more easily than expected, aided by Sera, who shared a literature class with you. Jungkook was also in the class as he’d put it off the previous year.

When study groups were formed after the second class, you ended up in the same group with Jungkook and Sera. You kept sneaking glances at Jungkook in the library that afternoon, wondering where you stood now. He didn’t seem angry anymore, but he was distant. He kept his baseball cap on, pulled low enough to hide his eyes and his expression. You resisted the urge to push him to talk to you, sensing that he was working through things in his own way. For now, it was enough to know that he wasn’t mad anymore.

You shifted in the library chair, eyes on your laptop, trying to ignore the menstrual cramps that had begun that morning. They sometimes made you feel sick, and you made a note on your calendar to call the women’s clinic that Sera used. You’d almost skipped today’s study group, but you were discussing ideas for the group project due mid-semester, and you hadn’t wanted to miss an opportunity to see Jungkook.

You shifted again and sighed, rubbing the line between your brows. You looked up when Jungkook left the table. He was gone for ten minutes and when he returned, he dropped a small pharmacy bag on your books and set a cup of hot tea in front of you.

A peek into the bag showed a hot pack and some painkillers, and something warm blossomed in your chest. This was the type of thing he’d done for you before, for years. It made you remember that first time. You were twelve and horribly embarrassed by your body’s changes. When you’d left school sick one afternoon and then refused to see Jungkook, he’d climbed up the tree outside your window and nearly fell trying to get into your room.

You’d confessed the problem, cheeks hot, and then he’d been a little embarrassed too. But after that, he went home and spent the evening reading about menstrual cycles and how to help with cramps, and he’d shared his research with you. You didn’t tell him that you already knew most of it because as embarrassing as it was, it was somehow easier to talk to him than your mom, and it was nice to know that he cared enough to do it.

He still cares, you thought. You glanced over at him, and your eyes met his dark ones for a brief moment before he focused on his tablet again.

Some of the weight you’d carried since your return lightened because for the first time, you were sure that you and he would get past this. It might take time, and you suspected there were some hard conversations in your future. But you were still in his heart as much as he was in yours.

When you left the library, Jungkook fell into step beside you. You were quiet as you walked to the car, waiting for him to speak first.

“Jin and Jimin are throwing a birthday party for me,” he finally said. “It’s tomorrow night – just some people at the house, nothing too big. I thought you might want to come.”

Tamping down the surge of elation that rushed through you, you took a breath and nodded. “Sure, it sounds fun.”

“Our moms are coming on Saturday,” he added. “I guess your mom called you about that.”

“Yes. She’s bringing the twins, and I think we’re all supposed to go to lunch.” You pressed your lips together and then said, “Taehyung’s mom will be here this weekend, too. She wanted to see how the house turned out, and she wants to meet my family, so they’ll both come to lunch.”

You relaxed when he just nodded at that without saying anything. He and Taehyung seemed to have reached an accord of sorts since the night you’d fallen prey to a stronger-than-usual spirit. They might never be besties, but they were civil and no longer glared at each other. You’d count that as a win.

________________

When you walked into Jungkook’s house the next day, you sensed the presence immediately – a dark, low-level spirit, but one that was weakened. You followed Jin inside and paused at a door to the left of the hallway off the living room.

“What room is this?” You gestured to the door, raising a curious brow.

“It goes down to the basement,” Jin replied. “We were thinking of putting another bedroom down there, or maybe a game room, but it needs some work first.”

“It does,” you agreed. “Starting with getting rid of the ghost inhabiting it.”

He looked startled. “There’s a ghost down there? How do you know?”

“I can feel it,” you said. You touched the door knob but then hesitated. “I can deal with it, but I should probably call Namjoon and Chloe, just to be safe.”

Jimin arrived home just after Namjoon and Chloe began setting up their equipment, and he watched, skeptical, as you got the things ready which you would take down to the basement.

“Uh, I don’t know, y/n. Maybe we should wait for Jungkook.”

You looked over at Jimin. “I don’t think he’d let me do this. He’s still stuck in the past, where I was scared of everything and he made it his job to get between me and… well, everything, really. I need to show him that our relationship doesn’t hinge on him protecting me anymore. The only way we can move forward is if he sees that our friendship can be healthy and balanced.”

“He’s going to be really pissed off when he gets here and sees this though.” Jimin grimaced and shook his head. “Fine, I get it, but you need to be ready to deal with him when he blows up.”

“I can handle Jungkook.” And you could now – you were sure of it.

When the equipment was set up, you put on the headset which also held a small camera and a microphone. Additionally, you wore two patches on your chest and the modified smartwatch which Chloe could use to monitor your vital signs. You made sure your two protective amulets were in your pocket and hefted a bag which contained small electrical discs and salt before making your way to the basement door.

You flipped on the lights at the top of the stairs but weren’t surprised when the lights flickered like a bad horror movie.

Getting ready for me, aren’t you? You walked down a few steps and then turned to pour some of the salt out in a thick, straight line along the steps. Just above that line, you set down one of the electrical discs, which would emit low-level pulses of energy.

“What’s that for?” Jin asked as he and Jimin watched you.

“The reason the ghost escaped down here is because of the talismans Jungkook hung upstairs. They were strong enough to make the ghost keep its distance, but not strong enough to banish the ghost altogether. Once the ghost realizes I’m a threat, it could escape upstairs, and this will prevent that.”

When you glanced up and saw the look on Jin’s face, you hurried to reassure him. “Look, I promise I actually know what I’m doing here. This ghost isn’t even particularly strong. I’ve banished more than a hundred ghosts like this one, at least, in the last couple of years.”

You gave them one more reassuring nod before you continued down the stairs. The space was open but since there were no windows, and the lights were still flickering due to the interference from the ghost’s own electrical energy, it was a dark space. You could see a small kitchenette on one side of the room, and an open door on the other side led to a bathroom. Boxes stacked against one wall were full of sports equipment, books, and miscellaneous things you assumed the three roommates hadn’t gotten around to unpacking yet.

You dropped a couple of electrical discs around the perimeters of the room as you waited for the ghost to show itself. You could feel its energy building, so it wouldn’t be long now. Gripping the bag of salt, you poured it out into a large half circle, leaving one part open to allow the ghost to come inside with you, at which point you’d be able to cut it off.

Then you waited. After several minutes of silence, you heard Jin call from the open door. “Is everything okay down there? Maybe I should come down too.”

You sighed. “Jin, you’re scaring it away. Close the door and go watch from the monitor with Joon and Chloe, okay?”

Jimin cleared his throat nervously. “But…”

“Go – both of you.”

There was a moment of silence before you heard the door close. As soon as it did, the lights flickered out completely, the room now lit only by the light on your headset.

“There you are,” you murmured as you saw the shadows shifting near the bathroom. “Come out and talk to me.”

The shadow shifted again and then suddenly, it was right outside the salt circle – a female spirit with eyes as dark as pitch and a pinched mouth, long hair hanging in inky ropes down her back. She wore an old-fashioned dress – you dated it to the late nineteenth century – but no shoes.

You kept your tone conversational as you spoke to her. “Did you live here?” You knew the house wasn’t old enough, but it was likely built in the same place where other homes had once been. Ghosts often stayed in the same area, even when old buildings were torn down and new ones built.

She opened her mouth and screamed at you, her cold breath carrying the stench of fish. You fought back your gag reflex. “Lovely. What’s your name?” You didn’t offer your own name – a rookie mistake you’d made before you realized that the more a spirit knew about you, the more they could latch onto you.

She screamed again and darted toward you, getting right in your face. You turned, edging around the circle so that you could use your foot to shift the salt and close it. Suddenly, she reached for you and you gasped as she gripped your throat and lifted you.

Don’t panic. You reached into your pocket and just as your fingers found the Taoist jade amulet, you heard a crashing sound from the door, followed by someone racing down the stairs.

You barely had time to brace yourself before Jungkook slammed into you and fell to the floor, turning his body so he took the brunt of the impact. Before you could catch your breath, he rolled on top of you. When he grunted, you looked over his shoulder to see that the ghost had thrown herself into him, and he’d actually felt it. When she raised one hand, long nails curled into claws, you pushed Jungkook off of you and sat up.

You held up the amulet and said the words Mr. Lu had taught you, feeling your power curl up and flow through the amulet, which helped you direct it towards the ghost. She screamed as the tendrils of light wrapped around her form, and she pulled away from you. You followed, still chanting, and when she changed direction to come for you again, you were ready. You kicked out, hitting her squarely in the middle, never stopping the chant or your concentration on holding her with your power.

The glittering bands of light drew tighter, and suddenly she blew apart, her energy scattering into nothingness. Your ears rang in the silence that followed, and you drew in several deep breaths as you braced your hands on your knees. Finally, you looked over your shoulder to see Jungkook standing behind you, staring.

“Are you okay?” You asked, reaching for his arm to turn him slightly. You ran a hand down his back. “She hit you pretty hard.”

“What the fuck,” he breathed out, staring at you. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I banished her,” you said simply.

“Where? To the other world?”

“No. She’s completely gone. She had descended into complete darkness. There was no communicating with her. If I had banished her to the other world, it’s likely she would have found her way back here at some point, and if she grew strong enough? She could hurt someone.”

“So you can kill ghosts? Or I don’t know – I know they’re already dead, but they just… cease to exist?”

You held up the amulet. “This amulet absorbs their dark energy, basically. It helps me direct my power, and then when they disintegrate, the amulet absorbs the darkness. After enough time passes, I perform a cleansing ritual to help rid the amulet of that darkness. It works better when I keep everything in balance.”

Jungkook stared at it and then back at you. Then he covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath, muttering something to himself that you couldn’t quite hear.

You bit your lip, wondering if he was about to blow, as Jimin had predicted. Instead, he walked past you and up the stairs. You followed, where you found Jin examining the door now hanging crookedly, two of its hinges broken.

Jin shook his head at Jungkook. “This door opens in, not out. You didn’t have to break it.”

“He broke the door?” You looked at Jungkook in surprise, who scowled back at you.

“It’s not the sturdiest door in the world, but I’m surprised he was able to break it like this.” Jin looked over at you. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “No more ghostie either. I’ll help you set up new talismans to keep any new ones away. This town is lousy with them. They’re kind of everywhere.”

You went to check in with Namjoon and Chloe, who were reviewing the recording. “Pretty straightforward,” you told them. You heard Jungkook snort behind you.

“That was wild,” Jimin said, looking at you in amazement. “Like, I couldn’t see it, but I saw this light burst out of you, and I saw a shadow maybe? Crazy.”

“I told you – I’ve learned a lot over the last three years.” You looked at Jungkook again, trying to read his mood, but it was difficult. He was obviously listening as you talked about the ghost with Namjoon and Chloe, but he didn’t ask any questions. He did, however, lean forward to watch the video as you pointed out where the ghost was, what was happening, and your individual experience with what happened.

“Why did she have fish breath?” Jimin asked.

“Well, I say fish breath, but it was more of a rotten scent that was vaguely fishy? Dark entities often have a weird smell, at least to me. Sometimes Taehyung can smell it too. The darker they are, the more foul the odor they’re exuding.”

“Did you smell anything?” Jin asked Jungkook, who shook his head.

“I felt it though,” Jungkook said quietly. “When the ghost hit me, I felt it, and I felt the cold.”

“She was drawing on big energy reserves at that point,” you said, “so a lot of times, when ghosts do that, regular people will be able to see, hear or even feel them.”

Namjoon and Chloe accepted Jin’s invitation to stay for dinner and Jungkook went outside with Jimin to get the grill going. Soon, the smell of roasting meat drifted in from outside as you sat at the kitchen table with Chloe, who was helping you get the talismans ready.

You bit your lip as you concentrated on drawing the last one and then murmured the words that helped you seal the talisman with your power. Jungkook paused behind you at one point, watching you do it, before he took another plate of meat out of the fridge and headed outside with it.

“He was pretty upset when he came in and realized what was happening earlier,” Chloe said as she helped you hang the talismans at strategic locations around the house. You hid them as best you could but made a mental note to pick up some pictures they could hang to hide the most visible ones.

“I know,” you replied. “I figured he would be, but he needed to see it to believe it. If we’d waited for him, he would have been arguing with me or interfering with what I was doing downstairs.”

“I’ve never seen anyone move that fast,” Chloe said. “Dude vaulted the chair and broke the door down about 5 seconds after he figured out what he was looking at on the screen.”

“He’s… impulsive.” And protective, you thought.

Soon, the house was filled with people – some from the fraternity, others from Jungkook’s team, and a few Jin knew from the drama department.

“This is like, Jungkook’s first birthday party,” Sera said when she arrived. “He always said he wasn’t into birthday parties.”

You felt another little stab of guilt at her words; you hated to think you had ruined that for him. Of course, you hadn’t been one to celebrate birthdays in the past three years either, though Taehyung usually got you a gift and a cake despite your protests.

You walked Namjoon and Chloe outside after they ate, and when you returned, Jin was bringing out a cake. “Happy 21st,” he said as he set it down on the table.

Jungkook hesitated to blow out the candles and when he looked up at you, you knew it was because you had always done it together. You raised your brows, a silent question in your eyes. At his tentative nod, you joined him at the table.

“There we go,” Jin said approvingly as he put his arms around both of you. “Make your wishes and blow.”

You didn’t have to think about your wish because it was the same one you’d thought of for the past three years. When you met Jungkook’s eyes and he quirked his brow, you smiled and then you blew out the candles together.

Alcohol flowed freely after that, and though Jungkook still wasn’t exactly talking to you, you felt his eyes tracking you around the room, as if he always knew where you were and who you were talking to. You were nursing a mixed drink when Jimin suddenly announced it was truth or dare time. A collective groan was his response from half the crowd, though a lot of people were into the idea.

“Is this high school?” Sera complained as she took a seat in the circle.

You joined her, noting Jungkook’s position directly across from you. And when Jimin went first, making sure the spinning bottle pointed directly to you, you weren’t surprised by what he did next.

“I default to the birthday boy,” Jimin said, sitting back smugly.

You waited for Jungkook to speak and after a few moments, he asked, “Truth or dare?”

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and said, “Truth.”

He nodded. “Why did you really leave?”

Surprised that he had come right out with that question, here, in front of everyone, you hesitated. You’d known he would eventually ask – you just weren’t expecting it to be so public. The tension between you was noticeable, to everyone, and silence fell over the group as they realized something serious was happening.

Your heart was racing, and your palms felt damp. Still, you knew that you needed to be honest if you were going to close the distance between you. You met his eyes. “I left because I was angry.”

The hurt look flashed across his expression so quickly, you would have missed it if you didn’t know him so well. The tension broke when he stood up and walked out the front door to stand on the porch.

Jimin nodded towards the door. “Go talk to him. Work it out.”

You closed the door behind you as you stepped out onto the porch, not wanting an audience. Jungkook was sitting on the steps. You could hear the murmur of voices from people who were in the backyard. You waited to see if Jungkook would speak first, but he just sat quietly, looking at the sun setting over the horizon to the left. When a fine drizzle started falling, you leaned forward, hugging your knees.

“I was angry and jealous,” you finally said. “I’m not proud of it, and it’s not the only reason, but it is the reason I went to the lake that night. And it’s the reason I called my uncle and made plans to leave.”

“I knew I made you angry,” he finally said. “I’m sorry I yelled at you that day, and I hated myself for throwing Grace in your face like that. Like anything was your fault.”

“It wasn’t just that I was angry with you,” you explained. “I was angry with myself too, for being so weak. I didn’t like hearing what you had to say, or the way you said it, but some of it was the truth. I was holding you back.”

“You weren’t…”

“Yes, I was. We both know I was, Jungkook. You should have had the choice to pick this school without worrying about me.”

“And so you took the choice away from me,” he shot back, turning to look at you. “You said I should have had the choice, but you took that from me when you left.”

You stared at him. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about me.”

“Do you really think my senior year was carefree because you left? How could you think that, y/n? I worried about you every fucking day because I was scared for you. I worried about something happening to you, and I wouldn’t be there to help you.” He pushed his hands through his hair, a move that signaled his frustration. “Do you really think that I had no choice before you left? I was looking at other colleges – ones where I thought you’d be safer. This isn’t the only university where I could get a scholarship, or where I could study film and production.”

“But there was Grace, too. And even if it wasn’t her, I knew there would be other girlfriends, or whatever. You’d get married one day, and I needed to learn to be independent.”

He snorted, his tongue pushing against his cheek. “Oh, okay. So you blew up our lives to leave me open for my future wife? Bullshit, y/n.”

Now you were angry. “It’s not bullshit! I was… in the way. I felt like that at home, all the time, and I couldn’t bear to start feeling that way with you, too. So yes, I was jealous, I guess, and sad, and mad, and scared, and a whole lot of other things I didn’t even figure out until later. I was a mess, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me. So, I left.”

“Without giving me a choice,” he said. “Don’t you realize why I was factoring you into my choices? Because I never asked Grace what her college plans were. Not even once. But you? You were always in my plan. I never would have left without you, and if I could have stopped you from leaving, I would have. It wasn’t about pitying you, either, or whatever other bullshit you came up with. I was sad that day in your room. And yeah, maybe I was frustrated in some ways. I was mostly mad at Grace for arguing with me about you, and I never blamed you for her being jealous. That day, all those frustrations just spilled out, and then I was embarrassed about it. It wasn’t just you – I wanted to be alone for a while, before baseball camp. Then, when I was there, I regretted not talking to you before I left.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I guess I didn’t look at it that way – like I was taking the choice from you. I thought, in the long run, it might be easier for you if I left, I guess.”

“Then why come back?”

“Because I missed you,” you admitted. You felt the burn of tears in your eyes and took a breath. “Every day.”

You scooted closer to him, half expecting him to move away from you. But he didn’t – he just looked at you, his brown eyes glossy with tears he was also holding back. When you put your arms around him and laid your head on his shoulder, he suddenly shifted and wrapped his arms around you.

You took a shuddering breath, and then another, fighting back the tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he finally whispered. He turned his head, pressing his face against your neck. “God, I missed you so much.”

You stayed like this for a while, until the rain began falling in earnest, carrying the scent of grass and flowers with it. It was comforting and reminded you of summer showers in Nana’s garden, when you and Jungkook had sat on the porch, or when you had taken your shoes off and jumped in the puddles.

“Good day for puddle jumping,” you both said, and then laughed.

Jungkook hugged you closer for a moment, sniffing your hair. “You still smell the same,” he said, sounding happy about that.

“I haven’t changed my shampoo or body wash,” you admitted, pulling back to smile at him. He’d been the one to pick out those scents for you in high school. Though you didn’t say it, you could see that he understood why you’d never changed them. Scent was important to him – it always had been – and he often associated memory with scents. You’d wanted him to remember you as he always had.

Jungkook stood up and then took your hand to pull you up as well. “Come on, I want to get drunk now. I’m officially 21, and it’s allowed.”

You laughed. “Like that ever stopped you before. I still remember hauling your drunk ass home from Jimin’s that night you had beer for the first time.”

Jungkook did get drunk, but he was a happy drunk. The others had abandoned truth or dare after you went outside, but Jungkook joined in playing video games, and he sang when someone put in a karaoke DVD. Jimin pulled him into a Little Mix dance with Ayeong at one point, and you fell over laughing at their sexy girl dance moves, which Jungkook imitated shamelessly.

By midnight, most people had left, though a few hung around as Jin put in a horror movie that you and Jungkook had chosen to watch. Jimin looked at you incredulously as you both laughed at the ghosts onscreen, but you shrugged at him as you said, “This kind of thing just isn’t that scary.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jungkook this happy,” Ayeong said quietly. She sat with Jimin, Sera, Erin and Jin on the large sofa, while you and Jungkook were on Jungkook’s leather beanbag.

Jimin noted how Jungkook was sprawled across your lap like a puppy as he laughed at something onscreen, and your fingers carded through his hair in a soothing gesture.

“The happiest I’ve ever seen Jungkook, or the saddest, or the angriest? It was always because of y/n,” Jimin told her. “He’s been different since she left, and now, he’s got a piece of his heart back. Trust me, you’ll see a totally different side to him now that she’s here.”

You were falling asleep by the time the move was over. You opened your eyes drowsily and checked the time. “I should go.”

“No,” Jungkook said. He also looked tired as he pulled you up. “You can sleep here. It’s late anyway.”

“I mean, I guess I could take the couch,” you said. Sera and Erin were gathering their things, though it looked like Ayeong was planning to stay with Jimin.

“No, in my room,” Jungkook said stubbornly.

Sera wiggled her brows at you, obviously fighting back a laugh, and you blushed. “Jungkook, we haven’t shared a bed since we were like, twelve. The couch is fine.”

But drunk Jungkook would not be swayed, and you found yourself pulled out of the room. When you passed Jin in the hallway, he closed his eyes and said, “I pretend I do not see it.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, your face on fire now as Jungkook pulled you into his room. “Jungkook, they’re getting the wrong idea….”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I just got you back, and I don’t want you to leave yet.”

In the bathroom, he let you use his face wash, and he pulled an extra toothbrush out of a drawer. He picked up a brush and started brushing your hair as you brushed your teeth, and you made a concerted effort not to meet his eyes in the large mirror. You had some unscented face moisturizer in your bag, which you used now, and Jungkook sniffed it before using some as well.

He left the bathroom for a minute and returned with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “These are Ayeong’s – she leaves extra stuff in Jimin’s room and said you could borrow them.”

You changed quickly and when you exited the bathroom, he had changed as well. From a mini fridge in the corner, he pulled out two bottles of water and quickly downed one before passing you the other. Then he guided you to the bed and tucked you in before climbing in behind you.

When Jungkook wrapped one arm around you and buried his face in your hair, you jumped. Would you even be able to sleep like this? You weren’t sure.

“Shhh,” he murmured sleepily. “You think too much. Go to sleep.”

You shifted a bit, getting more comfortable. When you rested your hand on his at your stomach, he linked your fingers together. He was warm, and safe. He feels like home, you thought as you finally relaxed into sleep.

Hi guys! If you're still reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I'll post again next week since I made this update longer. I finished the whole story so I'll just kinda tweak it here and there, post 2 more parts and it'll be done. Thanks for reading :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts imagines #jungkook fluff #ghosted #jungkook angst

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candycityy · 3 years

Text

rumour mill (special ops ft. 104th crack with a dollop of rivetra because it's the weekend, why the hell not)

Friendship is a confusing thing.

As such, despite Hanji Zoë's sheer oddness—Levi really doesn't know any other way to put it—he counts her as one of his very, very few friends. At least, inside his head.

It's a friendship that most people don't understand, him least of all. But for what they lack in the conventional features of friendship—things in common, trips to town, et cetera—they make up in one particularly powerful phenomenon: gossip.

"Kirschtein tried to send Ackerman a love letter today," Levi reports, the second they sit down at the officers' table. As expected, Hanji's jaw drops in quite a gratifying manner.

"No," she breathes. "How'd you know?"

The captain allows himself the faintest hint of a smirk. "I caught him hovering outside the women's barracks. Apparently there's some sort of holiday coming up—"

"St. Valentine's Day." The mad scientist nods wisely. "I'm familiar."

"Whatever," Levi snaps. "Anyway, he was just waiting outside there for the longest time, like a creep, clutching an envelope in his hands."

"For how long?"

"Ten minutes. I counted." Hanji lets out a muffled scream of laughter, which garners them a very pointed look from Erwin. Levi glares at her.

She shuts up.

"So, then, I finally go up to him and ask him what the fuck he's up to, and the brat looks like he's about to shit himself." He rolls his eyes. "It took some...persuasion...but he ended up confessing that he was trying to pass something to Ackerman."

"How'd you know it was a love letter, though? It could've been something lame, like a report," Hanji points out. He rolls his eyes.

"Four-Eyes, the envelope was scented. But that's not all."

"No!" Hanji repeats, looking like she's on the verge of passing out with excitement. "Then what happened? Did he end up passing it to her?"

"I was just about to send him off, but then guess who walks right out of the door." A wicked gleam flashes in his eyes. "Jaeger."

"He didn't!"

"He did. And then of course the shitty brat demands to know what he's doing there, and Kirschtein gets all defensive asking what he's doing there, and then Jaeger grabs the letter and reads it and I swear, he yells so loudly I was afraid he was gonna go all titan-mode on Kirschtein's ass."

"And I don't suppose the poor guy stood there and let him read it?"

Levi snorts. "Of course not. Kirschtein ended up in the med bay and Jaeger lost another tooth, but whatever, it's probably grown back already. But look." He nods discreetly at the recruits' table, where the two boys are resolutely glaring off in opposite directions, while Mikasa sits in between, obliviously tucking into her potato stew. "I guess they haven't made up yet, the brats."

"Poor things. Love is hard," Hanji says. She sounds almost sympathetic, and perhaps he'd believe she was, if not for the almost maniacally wide grin on her face.

Levi just sips at his tea and smirks.

The new members of the Survey Corps stares at the officers' table, where Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hanji appear be deep in conversation. As they watch, the brunette lets out a peal of laughter, and the ordinarily impassive captain's lips quirk into something that is almost a smile.

There's a collective intake of breath. "You see?" Connie whispers heatedly. "The captain smiled. I told you they had something going on."

"I think it's adorable," Krista goes dreamily. Ymir snorts.

"That's rubbish," she declares. "I don't think Captain Levi is capable of like, a relationship. He's too busy being a scary, frigid bastard."

"Keep your voice down," Eren implores, his eyes darting to the table. "And the captain's actually really nice—he's just, uh, got a strange way of showing it."

"Whatever, Jaeger, we all know you have some sort of hero-worship crush on the captain anyway—"

"I do not!"

"As if Eren would ever," Mikasa sniffs. "As if anyone would ever like that shorty, he's so full of himself—"

"Keep your voice down." Eren looks around nervously. "And I honestly don't think Captain Levi has anything going on with Squad Leader Hanji. In fact, if anything..." He lowers his voice dramatically, and everyone leans in, even Ymir. "I'd suspect he has something on with Ms Petra."

There's a shocked silence. Sasha interrupts it by bursting into laughter. "Petra Ral? The lady in your squad?" she giggles. "You've got to be joking, she's way too nice for him."

"And way too cute," Jean interrupts with a snigger. "Although, at least she's shorter than him, ha—"

"I still think he has something going on with Squad Leader Hanji," Connie says firmly. He grins mischievously. "And if there are any disagreements...well, anyone care to settle it with a bet?"

"Guys," Eld announces, striding into the room and grinning like he's just won the lottery, "you'll never believe what I overheard at dinner."

Petra yawns. Gunther shrugs. "Don't know, don't care," Auruo goes, wincing as he stretches in his chair. "Training was a bitch today, I just wanna get to bed."

"Well, you'll reconsider when you hear this." The squad's second-in-command leans forward, his eyes gleaming. "The captain and Squad Leader Hanji have something going on."

For a moment, no-one moves.

"Wow." Auruo stares at him with awe. "Did you take a hit on the head with a tree branch this morning or something?"

"Even if it was true, you've some nerve telling us." Gunther rolls his eyes in amused disbelief. "The captain could walk in any minute, you know."

"I'm keeping a lookout," Eld insists. "But it's true! I overheard the kids talking about it, and you know that Captain Levi spends almost all his time with them these days, them and the Jaeger brat. They must've seen or heard something."

"If the captain was dating anyone, Petra'd be the first to know," Gunther points out wisely, and turns to their sole female squadmate, and Captain Levi's alleged favourite "Right, Pet...?"

He trails off when he catches sight of the look on the woman's face. Her usually sunny demeanour has been replaced by something pale, stony-faced, and all in all quite terrifying.

There's an awkward silence. "Petra?" Eld ventures. "Is it...is it true then? About the captain dating—"

"Dating who, now?"

Everyone except Petra leaps to their feet instantly, their eagerness quelling to a deer-in-headlights guilt as the man in question stalks through the doors, as silently and with rather the same, threatening air of a predator cornering its prey.

"Eld, you ass," Gunther mutters out of the side of his mouth at the failed lookout.

Auruo, on the other hand, glances sideways at Petra, who remains seated, the strange, cold fury still on her face, her fists clenched at her sides. "What are you doing?" he hisses. "Get up."

She ignores him. "Captain," she says instead, her voice frighteningly calm, "Eld was just talking about a rumour he'd heard."

The man laughs nervously. "Petra," he mutters through a forced smile, "I don't think the captain needs to hear about this."

She continues on, as though she hadn't heard him. "Apparently," she says, her words taking on a note so decidedly threatening that even Humanity's Strongest soldier starts looking slightly nervous, "you're dating Squad Leader Hanji. Is that true, sir?"

The last word hangs in the air, like a warning. The captain blinks.

And makes a sound low in his throat that sounds almost, incredibly, like a muffled snort.

For some reason, Petra seems to take offense at it. She shoves her chair back, sends him one last look of absolute loathing (the boys suck in bated breaths at that), and flounces out of the room, slamming the door bodily behind her.

No-one says anything. The captain's expression doesn't shift a centimetre.

"...uh, sir?" Gunther finally ventures, after a full thirty seconds of silence. "Are you...all right?"

The question seems to snap him out of his reverie. He rounds on Eld, even as his face remains a mask of deadly calm.

"Where," he asks icily, "did you hear that?"

"The kids," Eld confesses after a moment's hesitation.

Captain Levi mutters a curse under his breath.

Several fingers point, at once, to Connie Springer.

He sputters, looking around wildly at the traitors. "It wasn't just me!" he cries, and glares accusingly at his comrades. "Krista, you agreed, too!"

Ymir steps protectively in front of the blonde girl. "Don't you pin this on her," she snarls.

"Well, she did," Mikasa says, as deadpan as ever. "So? What's this about? Is it true, sir?" The recruits turn a shade paler at her blunt remark. Eren elbows her in the side, and yelps as his arm collides with what seems to be a wall of solid muscle.

Levi glares at the lot of them. "You shitty brats really don't have a brain cell between the lot of you, do you," he barks. "I've never heard anything so stupid in my life."

"If I may, sir," Mikasa goes smoothly, even as Sasha hisses at her to shut up already, "if it was rubbish anyway, why waste your time coming after us? Gossip isn't exactly a subject worth your attention.

"Yes, captain," another voice comes snidely from behind him. It's Petra, arms folded and glaring daggers, lips twisted in a frown that looks quite out of place on her ordinarily cheerful face. "Why bother?"

Eren's eyes widen, darting rapidly from the captain to his pissed-off subordinate. A look of gleeful understanding dawns on his face.

"Oh," he breathes. "Ms Petra, you're dating the captain, aren't you?"

There's an awkward silence. "None of your business," Levi snaps, just as Petra replies, "No."

The captain turns to her, incredulously. "No?"

"Did I say something wrong, sir?" she drawls. They glare at each other in a silent argument that goes on for a few heated moments, before Levi finally looks away.

"Fine," he growls. "I'm not with Four-Eyes. I'm...I'm with Ral here. And no-one outside this room needs to hear a fucking word of this, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" the recruits chorus in unison, thumping their fists over their hearts with suppressed grins. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Connie Springer and Sasha Braus discreetly exchange coins.

He decides to ignore this.

"Anything else?" he asks, folding his arms and turning his best glare on them.

Nobody dares to move. At least, until Eren raises a tentative hand.

"If it helps," he volunteers, "I betted on you, Ms Petra."

Petra doesn't smile. "Thank you, Eren."

"Captain!" Eld exclaims, bursting into the room two days later. "Is it true that you and Pet—"

"Fucking hell."

#rivetra #levi x petra #levi ackerman #attack on titan #petra ral #special ops squad #ft. the kids cos why not #candycity writes

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wkemeup · 5 years

Text

Double Blind

summary: Set up on what might be the worst blind date you’d ever been on, you find yourself captivated by the mysterious bartender instead pairing: bucky x reader, bartender!au warnings: a handsy asshole named Brock Rumlow a/n: this was written for @notyetneedcoffee‘s 2k writing challenge! My prompt was “Touch her again and lose that hand." Congrats on 2k!!

The night hadn’t even started and you already missed your couch. With every step along the sidewalk and the click of a heel, you craved to dive into the soft cushioning of your old, worn down sofa, rid yourself of the makeup on your face, and watch movies all night with your best friend. Though, considering she was the culprit behind your current predicament, you might have to reconsider your friendship status for a while.

Natasha was always on your back about how often you kept yourself holed up in the apartment. You weren’t one for nights at the bar in tight dresses baring more skin than you were comfortable with or mingling with strangers in overcrowded spaces with music so loud you could hardly hear yourself think. You were always content with a bowl of popcorn on your lap and hair thrown haphazardly away from your face watching a fourth episode of the same series in a binge, and perhaps that made you a little lame, but you didn’t much mind.

You were happy in your ways, but Natasha had other plans.

It was how you ended up wearing a dress from her closet, black and short enough for your hands to be gripping and tugging the fabric down every few paces, and on your way to a bar downtown to meet a guy you didn’t even know. Some friend she was.

You crossed your arms as you walked, holding the sleeves of your jean jacket tighter against you to hide the exposure of your chest that Natasha had adamantly suggested you learn to flaunt. She tried to snatch your jacket from you before you could leave, but you swiped it back just as you slid out the door.

You didn’t mind the heat of sweat that had started to bead at the back of your neck. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make if you were forced to wear a dress that had stranger’s eyes following you down the street with wolf whistles in their wake.

The guy’s name was Brock Rumlow, a security analyst from Natasha’s firm she crossed paths with in the break room on a few occasions. Devil that she was, took it upon herself to set up a blind date between the two of you.

He was handsome, she told you; tall, dark haired, and with a jaw line so sharp it could cut through glass. He was brooding and mysterious and made the kind of money that could force you to overlook some minor character flaws, though she refused to elaborate until you at least agreed to meet the guy.

You were already so picky, she told you. You had impossibly high standards that no man could possibly meet, but hell, maybe that was the point.

You nearly walked right past the address he had texted you to meet at, surprised to find an entrance to a dive bar located down a series of steps away from the sidewalk and with a sign barely illuminated by a fading light. You glanced at your surroundings, clenching your jaw at the isolated area and the group of men across the street smoking under a street lamp, and reminded yourself to give Nat a piece of your mind when you got home.

Stepping into the bar, it was instantly apparent that you were wildly overdressed, even with the jean jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

You stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the faded smell of second-hand smoke soaked into the wood of the barstools and booths, the clicks of the pool table as two rather large men with thick grey beards leaned over the edge to inspect their next moves, and the stick of spilled beer on the floor under your heel.

A man in the corner of the room was watching you, arms folded over his chest like he was eyeing up prey, with a kind of hungry gaze that sent shivers down your spine as it trailed over your body. He licked his lips and you shuttered.

Tugging your jacket as far across your chest as you could manage, until it was wrapped in layers over itself, you quickly made your way to the bar. It seemed like a safe enough place. It was a decent distance away from the hawk staring you down in the corner of the room, anyway. The sticky sound of the floor followed with every step you took.

The bartender’s back was to you as he was cleaning a series of glasses in the sink. Watching him for a moment, he didn’t seem to notice you standing behind him but you could hear the faint sound of him humming along to the rock music playing softly from the jukebox in the far end of the room. He nodded his head along to the beat, shoulders swaying somewhat. It made your lips curve into a faint smile.

You were about to clear your throat, hoping to get his attention, when he turned around suddenly, tossing the rag over his shoulder and the features of his face softened into confusion as he laid eyes on you.

Blue. It was suddenly all you could see. Eyes like deep ocean waves and clear open skies. With long, brunette hair by his shoulders tucked behind his ears and a plain black t-shirt barely able to contain the strain of muscles in his arms and across his chest, he certainly looked tough enough to work in a bar like this, but with eyes like that, you wondered if he really belonged here at all.

He smiled at you, something soft and endearing, and you almost forgot why you were in this place to begin with.

“You sure you’re in the right bar, doll?” he asked sweetly, not skipping a beat and wiping the towel along the countertop of the bar in front of him and gestured for you to take a seat across from him.

Looking around, you winced at the men at a booth in the corner of the room who were about three seconds away from a brawl. One pointing a finger at the others chest, and the other so beet faced that he looked like he was about to explode at any given moment from holding back his tongue.

You turned back to the bartender with an uneasy grimace, hoping that your directions had led you astray because this certainly couldn’t be the ‘restaurant’ Brock wanted to meet you at.

"Is this The Centurion?”

“The one and only.” Blue-eyes nodded, clearly a little amused by the way your shoulder slumped and the quiet huff that left your lips.

Of course, it was.

“You might want to change the name of this place,” you commented nervously as you finally took a seat, a slight tremor of a laugh in your voice, “because I clearly wasn’t expecting a bar like this when I left my apartment.”

You gestured to the dress and heels you were wearing and the stain of red upon your lips. He laughed a bit at that as you grabbed a napkin from behind the bar and started to wipe the lipstick away, leaving behind smudges of red upon the paper cloth. You licked your lips to restore some of the moisture and already felt a little lighter without it on.

“’Bar like this?’ Whatever could you mean by that?” he teased, all bright eyed, and when you started to realize what you had said and a blush burned in your cheeks, he only winked at you, chuckling softly to himself. “Trust me, I know this place is a shithole. I’m just surprised to see anyone besides our regulars around here, let alone a beautiful woman lookin’ like a deer in the headlights. We usually cater to a rougher sort of people.”

“You know, I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment,” you laughed, letting a brush of your hair fall into your face to shield the burn of red his comment elicited. The touch of your cheek was warm as you tried to hide it with the heel of your palm.

“Only an observation,” he replied quickly, though with a smirk on his lips.

You nodded, struggling to contain your smile.

He started to wipe down parts of the counter beside you, lifting up bowls of pretzels and limes, and swiping underneath, though there didn’t appear to be much of anything needing cleaning.

He was humming to himself again, not bothered at all by the way your eyes watched him as he worked. He started to wipe down his work station and you noticed rather quickly he paid special attention to the space of the bar ahead of you.

You sat in silence for a while, periodically checking your watch and tugging the lapels of your jacket further across your chest at every glance towards the door, only to find that same man in the corner staring you down and sending unpleasant shivers down your spine.

“Are you cold?” the bartender asked softly, looking over at you curiously as he dried a glass by the sink. “I can turn the AC down if you want.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, seeing as you had sweat dampening the back of your neck, until he nodded at your jacket, which was still wrapped tightly around your chest. “Oh! Oh, no, I’m burning hot actually. This—This is my roommates dress and I never—I don’t usually wear stuff like this -- not that there’s anything wrong with it -- but I just—um—”

“Men are gross,” Blue-eyes concluded, biting on the edge of his lip as you nodded. He sighed, shaking his head as he slumped back to lean against the bar. “Yeah, I noticed Harvey’s been eyeing you since you walked in here.”

You followed his gaze to find the man who had been staring you down like a hawk the moment you stepped inside. He had yet to take his eyes off of you, though when you turned around, you found the bartender glaring at him with a kind of warning in his expression that gave the man enough sense to keep his hands to himself. Harvey threw his arms in the air, retreating back to his table in the corner and to the series of empty bottles beside him.

“Sorry about him,” Blue-eyes said sincerely. “I can’t kick him out for lookin’, but I swear if he comes close enough to make you uncomfortable, I’ll knock him into next week, alright? I double as the bouncer here, too.”

He added the last bit with a wink and it got you smiling.

“Busy man,” you commented and he laughed. It was the kind of sound that made your stomach twist in knots and you wondered if it was possible to preserve something so beautiful, something so light and airy that sat in such contrast to the tall, thick wall of muscle standing before you.

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” you added, sincerely. He nodded in return and you got the feeling he wasn’t like the men who frequented this bar or the men who shouted at you as you walked down the street. He was something else entirely.

Glancing up at the clock in the corner of the room, it was past the time Brock was supposed to meet you and while you thought about sending him a text to check in, you decided against it, half hoping he would just stand you up so you could go home, or maybe, if you were brave enough, ask the bartender for his name.

“So, what can I get you? You must be looking for a drink if you're wasting your time sittin’ up here with me,” he asked as he swung the towel over his shoulder he had just used to wipe his hands.

You glanced behind the bar, hoping a drink might calm your nerves and settle the warm blush in your cheeks at his words and eyed up the series of bottles and liquors on the shelves. Bourbons and vodkas, tequilas, and a few select drafts of beer, and nothing you would ever touch. You frowned.

“You don’t happen to have a Pino here, do you?”

He laughed at that. “I’ve got a shitty red blend that might be worse than boxed wine? But if you let me make you something, I promise it'll blow you away.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Alright then, but I’ll warn you, I’m picky when it comes to alcohol.”

“I think I’ve got a good enough read on you,” he shrugged casually and it made your heart skip, “just give me a minute.”

You watched as he pulled out a tall glass from under the bar, placing it on the counter in front of you with a wink. Then, he started to fill it with various bottles he poured too quickly for you to tell what they were. One was certainly carbonated, leaving bubbles in the glass, while others were clear, some rich in color, and he topped it off with a straw, sliding it closer to you.

You eyed him suspiciously, amused by the confident look on his face, and you took a sip. It was better than you expected, with a subtle taste of cranberry and ginger, with the alcohol barely noticeable, and you sat back with a content sigh.

“What is in this?” you gaped, moving to take another sip.

“A secret I’ll take to my grave,” he replied cheekily, arms folded over his chest and leaning back against the wall behind him, watching you as you nearly downed the first half. Then, a man at the end of the bar was waving his hand, and blue-eyes nodded at him before turning back to you. “I have to take care of this guy. Don’t drink that too fast, doll.”

You nodded, lips still wrapped around the edge of the straw as you took another sip, desperately trying to ignore the thumping of your heart when he shot that smile at you again. Watching as he made his way down to the end of the bar to refill the series of beers for the man and his friends, you felt a vibration coming from your purse. You frowned, seeking out your phone to find a text from Natasha.

How's it going??

It’s not. He’s not even here yet, you responded, glancing around the room to double check because you certainly wouldn’t have noticed if he did arrive amidst your conversation with the blue-eyed bartender. It was nearing fifteen past the time Brock was supposed to meet you anyway.

Give him some time! Maybe he’s running late. Don’t back out, Y/n. This will be good for you!

You’re the worst, just so you know.

Love you, too.

“So, you never did say what brought you to a bar like this,” the bartender said, his voice surprising you as you glanced up from your phone.

“Oh, well,” you stuttered, suddenly embarrassed, “my friend is trying to set me up with some guy she knows from work. He said to meet him here.”

He raised an eyebrow and the flash of disappointment on his face didn’t go unnoticed. “The guy said to meet you here? For a date?”

“You see why I’m overdressed then, don’t you?” you replied, nodding with a teasing smile.

“Definitely wouldn’t waste a dress like that in a place like this,” he agreed, the curve of his lips pushing at his cheeks and though his comment was about your dress, his eyes stayed glued to yours. He made no attempt to steal a glance down your body or under the jacket you kept wrapped over your chest.

“Yeah, well, it’s my friend’s,” you grumbled, tugging at the fabric on your thighs in hopes to pull it closer to your knees, though it jumped back up to the mid of your thigh the second you released the material. “I would much rather be in sweats on the couch right about now.”

“I hear you,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Sometimes I feel like jeans are too restricting. Can’t imagine how you’re sitting in that dress comfortably.”

“That’s the kicker. I’m not.”

That got him laughing again and the smile that ached in your cheeks was one you wished you could have worn for hours. Blue-eyes was still wiping down the same section of the bar he’d been cleaning since you got here and you wondered if he was really meticulous in his polishing or if he was finding excuses to talk to you. The thought alone made your stomach twist up in knots.

“I don’t know many people who’ve even heard of this place. We mostly cater to regulars,” he said after a few moments, voice fading out a little as he seemed lost in thought. “Maybe I know the guy. What’s his name?”

“His name?” you repeated, suddenly unsure why you were so reluctant to tell the handsome bartender with the big, bold, blue eyes and the sweetest laugh you’d ever heard. “His name is, um--”

“Bucky! A little help!” a voice suddenly called from the back of the room where a small, brunette woman with an apron draped over her waist and a thick eastern European accent was attempting to keep the two burly men who had been arguing earlier from throwing fists. Even as small as she was, she kept a hand on both of the men’s chests, keeping them apart.

“Shit,” Blue-eyes, or Bucky you supposed, cursed, sending you an apologetic grimace. “Hold that thought for me?”

“Y/n,” you blurted out suddenly before you could lose your nerve, stilling him in his movements and a grin spread across his lips. Time seemed to slow down for a moment.

“Y/n,” he repeated, smiling at the way it felt on his tongue. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nodded, watching how he chewed on the edge of his lip before he hopped over the end of the bar, jogging towards the commotion. The men seemed to straighten their backs and settle down the moment he stepped into view. He seemed to have that presence about him. Perhaps it was the reason you’d gone straight to him as you first stepped into the bar.

Caught up in the way Bucky placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the men to help calm him down and ushered the other to take a seat, you didn’t notice the presence of someone hovering over your shoulder; not as you smiled softly to yourself as Bucky began to take a seat himself across from one of the men, nudging the other into the booth as well in favor of exchanges words over fists.

“Y/n?”

You gasped, startled, turning around to be met with deep brown eyes and a charming smile. The man grinned at you, but there was something off in it, like it was a layer of a mask. He was staring at you, raising an eyebrow at the way you glanced over in Bucky’s direction out of instinct, hoping he’d notice, though you weren’t even sure what you would have wanted him to do.

“Brock?” you asked, uncertain and he nodded, his smile fading the longer it took for you to tear your eyes away from Bucky. If he was a regular here as Bucky suspected, it was evident he didn’t get along well with the bartender.

“I see you got started without me,” he commented, gesturing to the half empty drink Bucky had made for you.

“Oh, well, you were late, so,” you muttered awkwardly, reaching to take another sip to ease your anxiety but Brock grabbed the glass from you before you could, placing it down behind the bar.

“I’ll order you something nicer,” he said flatly.

It was then that Bucky returned to the bar, albeit slower as he swung around the barrier to find Brock standing next to you, looming over your shoulder almost possessively. His eyes flickered down to the drink that was now placed out of your reach, causing him to frown.

Bucky looked to you, soft eyes and concerned expression, and you only nodded, answering his silent question that yes, this was the man you were supposed to meet. His whole body seemed to tense up at your response.

“Rumlow,” Bucky gritted his teeth, jaw clenched and strained history more than obvious between the two.

“Barnes,” Brock replied, just as stiff.

In the exchange, Bucky’s eyes turned to you, trying to catch your own though you were staring down at the floor, a heat of embarrassment in your cheeks you couldn't quite place. You felt a sudden hand on your forearm, rough skin under the palm but so incredibly gentle, and you looked up to find Bucky watching you.

“Call for me if you need anything,” he said sternly, like a warning. “I won’t be far.”

“Thanks Barnes, we’ll be sure to do that,” Brock spat, taking another step closer to you so that his chest pressed against your back, his arms curling around your sides. You shuttered out a shaken breath. “Why don’t we go sit over at the booth for some privacy?”

Your eyes met Bucky’s again, panicked for a moment and you swore you might have seen him shake his head subtly.

“O-oh, I actually prefer sitting here. If that’s alright?”

Brock paused, clearly reluctant to your request, but he eventually took a seat next you, dragging the bar stool close enough to you that when he sat facing you, his knees parted wide enough that his legs were practically caging you. You glanced down, observing the territorial nature of his stance and you gritted your teeth.

Meanwhile, Bucky had been called down to the end of the bar to attend to one of the men at the pool table. He was reluctant to move, but as the patron called for him again, blue eyes met yours and gave you a subtle nod; one that told you he’d be close enough to come running if you needed him.

As he retreated, you watched him for a moment, wondering what it was in the few moments you’d known him that he started to carry an aura of safety around him, a sense of protection, one you had no interest in being removed from and yet, Brock was poking at it with the sharp edge of a needle.

Even from the distance, as Bucky listened for the men’s order, his eyes were on you; not territorially, but out of concern, out of care. His hands were gripping the countertop, shoulders tense and hunched. You only looked away from him when you felt Brock’s hand on your leg.

“So, I should tell you I almost didn’t come tonight,” he purred, leaning in close enough for his breath to brush against your neck, leaving an unpleasant shiver in its wake, “but when Natasha showed me a picture of you, I couldn’t stay away. Had to try a bite of that myself.”

Awkwardly shifting yourself away from Brock’s closeness, you reached for a menu behind the bar, clearing your throat and nervously pushing hair behind your ear and desperate to change the conversation.

“Why don’t we, um, why don’t we get some food? I haven’t eaten in a while actually and--”

“What I want isn’t exactly on the menu.” Brock tugged the pamphlet from your hands and tossed it behind the bar. It fell down to the floor and he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest that it nearly took out a tray of glasses on its way down.

You didn’t like the way he was looking at you, feeling incredibly unnerved and exposed under his stare. You swallowed thickly, folding your jacket tighter across your chest. “So, what do you do at the firm? Nat said you were an analyst?”

A pathetic attempt of changing the subject again. He wasn’t interested.

“Why don’t you take off your jacket? It’s a thousand degrees in here,” he urged, fingers already sliding up your back and slipping under the collar of your jacket and attempting to pull it down. You only held on tighter.

“I’m okay,” you tried to respond, but Brock’s grip was tight on your collar and he was working on sliding down the jean over your shoulder despite the hardened clench of your hands to the fabric.

Brock’s hands moved to your own, trying to pry your grip away from the lapels long enough to loosen your hold and remove the jacket himself. There was no kindness in the way his hands touched you.

You could tell he was starting to get frustrated when he grunted at your reluctance.

“There’s no need to cover up, baby,” he pressed, darkness in his tone and you tried to shoulder away from him.

“Everything alright over here?”

You looked up, startled by the familiar voice. You didn’t realize how tense you were under Brock’s touch, your hands aching from how tightly they were clenching around the flaps of your jacket wrapped over your chest, desperate to keep it secure, eyes locked on the wood of the bar to avoid Brock’s unsettling stare.

Bucky was standing just a foot away from you, barrier of the bar between you feeling like a mile long. He was staring daggers into Brock, not moving a muscle until Brock’s hands retreated from your jacket with a defeated groan.

“I was just trying to help the lady out and take her coat. I was being a gentleman,” he said, though his hand quickly made its way to your thigh. It seemed he needed to have some kind of physical contact with you while in Bucky’s presence, just to remind you who you were here with. You tried to ignore it.

“Yeah, I’m sure you were,” Bucky accused, shaking his head in disgust and seeing straight through Brock’s excuse. He turned to you, incredibly softer now. “Can I get you anything, doll? Anything you want, just say the word.”

You knew what he was offering and it was more than a refill on a drink. The discomfort must have been clear as day across your face because the way he was watching you was so incredibly sincere; like he was prepared to jump over the bar to your defense the second you asked him to. Eyes filled with nothing but sparkling pale blue that made your stomach twist and turn in such startling contrast to the Brock’s hands roaming over your thigh. You longed to get lost in him.

“No, no I’m fine. Thank you,” you replied reluctantly, forcing out a smile, but Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave yours, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. A silent conversation between the two of you and you tried to mask the scream in the back of your head wanting him to rescue you.

“The lady said she’s fine, Barnes, so give us some privacy,” Brock spat, his hand creeping along your lower back and you let out a shaky breath at the touch of him.

Bucky noticed, his eyes darting down to Brock’s hand, but he didn’t say anything, not until you gave him the ‘ok’ to do so. It took him a few seconds, lingering behind, before he ultimately returned to his duties at the other end of the bar.

Heart still in your throat, you tried to find a way to get through this hellscape of a date so you could get home and tear into Natasha for setting you up with a man like this. He didn’t seem to care that you leaned away from his hands as they roamed your body, and if anything, it urged him on.

“So,” you started, nervously avoiding his eyes, “what, um, what got you into analyt--”

“Enough with the small talk,” Brock grumbled, grabbing a firm hold of your bar stool and yanking you closer. You gasped at the sudden movement, clinging onto the bar to avoid losing your balance. “We both know why we’re here tonight and it’s not to get to know each other.”

You shook your head, stretching your neck away from his touch as his fingers trailed up along your shoulder, though it didn’t prove of much use. You could still feel the unpleasant tremble of shivers in his wake.

“I don’t know what Nat told you but I’m not looking for--”

“I know exactly what you’re looking for, baby,” he whispered, startlingly close to your ear, and his hand was on the bare of your thigh, creeping dangerously close to the edge of your dress.

“Brock, stop,” you urged, trying to swat his hand away but he held on firm enough to grip into your thigh.

“Don’t be dramatic.” His fingertips slipped under the fabric of your dress and you jumped up from the bar, stepping a few paces away from him but he followed you.

“I think you should go,” you warned, your voice shaking despite the anger in your veins. It was a wild range of fear and embarrassment and fury rushing through you and you couldn’t control even an ounce of it.

“I came all the way out here for this and you're not even going to put out?” Brock spat at you, inching close enough to cage you against the edge of the bar. There was nowhere for you to go.

You were starting to panic, desperately looking down the bar for Bucky but he was suddenly nowhere in sight. Your hands pressed against Brock’s chest to find he was as unmovable as stone.

“Let me go,” you said quietly, desperately, and losing the strength in your tone quickly. Your breaths were coming in too fast, heart rate skyrocketing, and as Brock’s hand slid up your side, you bit down hard enough on your cheek to draw blood.

“Maybe you should learn a little respect,” he sneered, fingers pushing their way into your hair and before you could even part your lips to shout for someone, anyone, to notice Brock was suddenly ripped away from you, his hold vanishing as he was tossed forcefully to the ground.

“Touch her again and lose that hand,” Bucky growled, hovering over Brock and placing himself strategically between you.

His hand darted out behind him, searching for you to confirm you were alright and you grabbed onto it, squeezing it hard and the tension in his muscles only seemed to relax for a moment.

“What are you gonna do about it, deadbeat?” Brock spat back from the ground, brushing off his hands. “You gonna try and fight me for her? Is that what you want, huh? You want the girl all to yourself?”

Standing behind Bucky, you watched the way his body acted at your shield, his shoulders heaving with every panted breath, free hand curling into a fist as Brock attempted to stand, the other in sharp contrast sitting tenderly wrapped around your own. Brock rose from the ground, gritting his teeth and pushing his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Y/n, go with Wanda,” Bucky said over his shoulder, voice low and stern.

“But Bucky,” you whispered, afraid of what would happen if you left him.

He paused for a minute, turning back to you. His jaw was clenched, tense, but his eyes were full of worry; blue shades of concern and urgency.

“Please,” he asked, holding your gaze for longer than he probably should have but there was just a desperation in his tone that took you off guard. His hand squeezed yours and you nodded at him, releasing him though it pained you to do so and jumped into the arms of the petite woman who ushered you safely away from the fight.

With her hand on your forearm, she tried to lead you to the back room where the owner’s office was, but you planted your feet, turning back to Bucky and Brock as they were spewing taunts at one another too low for you to hear, but you could see the tension burning in the air as they circled one another.

“Wait! Will he be okay?” you asked timidly, flinching on impact as Brock suddenly took a swing that Bucky was able to dodge easily before he slammed Brock’s head to the countertop. Eager chants urging them on started to echo in small space of the bar as men cheered and sloshed beer over their glasses. It was chaos in a matter of seconds.

“Bucky can take care of himself, I promise,” Wanda replied urgently, pushing you further into the back room and you let her guide you away when Bucky and Brock were suddenly hidden from view by the patrons gathered around enthusiastically to watch.

Even from inside the office as Wanda closed and locked the door behind her, you could hear the crashing of glasses and the grunts of pain and exertion from beyond the walls. You slumped down into the chair behind the desk, arms wrapped around your waist and tried not to picture what was happening.

“How long have you known Bucky?” she asked, trying to distract you.

You shook your head, finding it impossible to tear your eyes away from the door. “I-- I don’t. I just met him tonight.”

That seemed to surprise her.

“Why?” you asked, flinching at a loud, muffled crash beyond the office followed by a collect eruption of shouts and applause.

She shrugged, a soft smile on her face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Bucky smile the way he has tonight. He doesn’t usually spend so much time cleaning the bar, especially that one particular spot.”

You shook your head, shaking away her comment because it felt too real. “Yeah, well, I’m sure it’s only because you guys usually have old biker men and handsy assholes frequenting this bar.”

Wanda pursed her lips, a knowing look in her eyes and entirely unconvinced by your excuse, but she didn’t push it and instead agreed, “sure. Maybe that’s it.”

***

Wanda certainly did her best to keep you distracted, but with every echo of a cheer beyond the wall, your attention quickly diverted back to the door, leaving you to ruminate constantly on whether it was Bucky or Brock who had been struck before the reaction of the crowd. You didn’t know who these men would cheer for or if they only cared about the thrill of the fight, eager to watch either side get a decent hit in.

Wanda informed you that Bucky had a history of fighting. He used to be a boxer back in the day and knew his way around a fight better than most. He would take care of himself, she told you, promised you.

You didn’t know why you cared so intensely, why you worried so much. You didn’t even know him, and yet, something about the blue in his eyes, the tenderness of his smile, and the sweet tone in his laugh drew you to him unlike anything else.

There was so much about him you still wanted to know, so much more you longed to talk to him about and ask him just to have a chance at hearing that laugh again. It had been years since you felt anything remotely like this and never so quickly. The fact that after all of the sweet talk and the teasing, he jumped head first into a fight to protect you from a man who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself, only seemed to spur on the twists in your stomach for him.

So, when the crowd began to quiet and the door to the office began to unclick with the turn of a key from the other side, you weren’t quite sure relief was a strong enough word for the release of tension in your chest. Though, when Wanda stepped aside and Bucky’s full figure was in view again, that same panic rushed back tenfold.

“Oh God,” you gasped, hand clamped over your mouth as you stood from the desk.

Bucky slowly made his way inside, evident by the wince on his face that something was bothering him in his leg. Blood dripped down from an open cut on his cheekbone and his lip was busted open in the center. Swelling had already started to take effect around his eye and his skin was marked in pinks and reds sure to turn blue in a few hours.

Your lips were parted in shock and the panic must have read over your features judging by the way Bucky tried to push out a smile for you.

“You should see the other guy,” Bucky joked, though a drip of blood slid past his lip and neither you nor Wanda smiled. He turned to Wanda, observing the tension in the room between you. “He’s already gone. No chance he’ll risk his own ass by calling the cops, but better get a word in to Steve at the station as a warning. I don’t want that piece of shit in this bar again.”

Wanda nodded, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder before she left the room.

Then, you were alone.

“How are you doing?” he asked after a moment of silence, sincere as can be because only this man would be concerned about you after he just took a pretty significant beating.

There wasn’t even a thought to yourself as you looked at him. You were too focused on the blood on his face, the open wounds, and the way he was holding onto his side like it pained him just to breathe. You shook your head at his question, in disbelief.

“How am I--? Jesus, Bucky, look at you!” you stuttered out, pointing at the state of him and you suddenly realized your hands were shaking. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

Bucky must have noticed because he pushed himself further into the room, despite the clear ache as he walked and he sat against the edge of the desk next to you, close enough for you to hear the subtle wheeze in his breaths and feel the heat off of his skin.

“I’ve had worse, doll. I’m fine,” Bucky whispered, blue eyes raking over your face.

“You didn’t-- you didn’t have to do that,” you said, unable to meet his eye, staring at his hands as they gripped at the desk.

“’Course, I did,” he replied quickly. “I wasn’t going to let him touch you like that, not with you so clearly telling him to stop. Guy like that doesn't know when to quit, doesn’t respond to being asked nicely either, but he’ll run off after a few good hits.”

“But why?” you choked out, finally gathering the courage to look at him only to find the crease of his brow stitched together and a layer of surprise on his face. “You don’t even know me. Why put yourself in harm's way if--”

“Well for one,” Bucky started, pulling your hand gently into yours, watching the way you stilled upon his touch, a gasp leaving you in a breathless kind of way, “I wouldn’t let him do that to anyone if they were explicitly saying ‘no,’ but you... I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy and maybe I’m making things up as I go, but there’s just something about you. From the second you walked in I didn’t want you to leave. I hated every time I had to deal with someone else and I lost a few minutes I could have been talking to you. That was all before Rumlow even showed up, and once he did, it felt like my skin was on fire.”

You watched the way he played with your hand, running his palm over it and cupping it between his own, drawing lines in your palms, and distracting himself with something tender despite the broken knuckles on his skin. His words left your heart racing but you bit on your lip, letting him continue.

“I’ve seen him hit on women before,” Bucky sighed. “I’ve seen the way he treats women like he deserves something from them but I’ve never seen him go this far, to—to trap you at the bar like that. I just—I lost it. The thought that you could be next in this line of women he’s hurt and I couldn’t--”

“Okay,” you whispered, pulling his attention from your hands and meeting his eye. You nodded at him, hand squeezing back at his to still his anxious movements. He seemed to relax at that, though your eye was still drifting up to the open wound on his cheek.

“Will you let me fix that up?” you asked softly, and he narrowed his eyes, confused.

“You sure you don’t want to run from this place and never look back?” he whispered, evading your question with an almost certain look as though he was awaiting your escape; maybe because of the confession that he might feel something for you other than the adrenaline in his veins, or maybe because he was bloody and broken and too hardened and violent to be touched by a woman as gentle as you.

You shook your head, following the crease in his brow and tenderly cupping his cheek to closer examine the wound, watching as his facial muscles relaxed instantly under your touch. Blue eyes studied you like you were from another world as you took a mental note of the supplies you’d need.

“I assume you have a first aid kit around here somewhere, tough guy?”

He chuckled at that, a lower, harder sound than the laugh you’d heard out in the bar, but it was still as beautiful. He was trying to hold this one back from the pain in his ribs, but it was too sweet to ignore. He nodded, pointing at the drawer next to your thigh. Sure enough, inside was a kit that was faded in lettering and looked to be years old.

You pulled out alcohol swaps and bandages, gesturing for his right hand. He gave it over to you without hesitation. His hand felt nice sitting in yours; heavy and calloused, and impossibly tender.

“This may sting,” you warned him.

“Do what you need to, doll,” he smiled and even through cracked lips he was stunning.

He still hissed as the alcohol-soaked cloth touch the exposed wounds on his knuckles and he tried to pull away instinctively cause you to grip tighter onto his hand to keep him firmly in place. He didn’t flinch as much as you pressed it to the break in his skin again, dabbing gently and ridding his knuckles of the blood before you tenderly applied the soothing gel and wrapped his hand.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he said softly. “You sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Who says I haven’t?” you smirked, gathering new supplies to start working on the cut on his face. You gestured down to his thighs and he parted them for you, letting you step between them as he kept his seat on the top of the desk to give you a better angle to work on the wound on his cheek.

Standing this close to him, you wondered if he could hear the thunderous pounding in your chest.

“Might be a little jealous someone else is getting this kind of attention from you,” Bucky replied casually, as if it didn’t make your stomach twist over on itself.

You bit your lip, taking in a steady breath as you dabbed the alcohol wipe to his cheek. He winced, reflexively trying to dodge the burn of the wipes, so you reached up to the cup the side of his face to hold him still. He relaxed instantly under your touch, almost leaning into it. You ran your thumb along his cheek on his unmarked side to sooth him as you placed the sting of the alcohol to the wound again. He didn’t budge even an inch this time, eyes staring into yours as you worked.

“Well, your supposed jealousy is unwarranted, seeing as it was my brother with the tendency to end up battered and bruised,” you said, focusing on the open wound rather than the blush in your cheeks and the sincerity with which Bucky was watching you. “He always had a hard time walking away from a fight. Didn’t matter he was consistently smaller; he was constantly picking fights under some moral imperative he lives by.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Bucky laughed, and you could feel the vibration of it against your palm. “Mine grew up to be a cop.”

“Better tell him to watch out for a lanky teenager running around Queens with a vigilante complex,” you grinned, grabbing a bandage from the kit and gently applying to the cut on Bucky’s cheekbone, paying careful attention to line it up perfectly despite the crinkles in his smile leading up to his eyes.

You pressed on the bandage, ensuring the adhesive was applied and let out a sigh of relief. You hand slipped away from his cheek and though you were smiling at him, you missed the contact instantly.

You smiled at him. “I think you’re gonna make it.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked, a sudden longing in his voice that brought shivers to your spine as he tilted his head. His eyes were somehow twice as big, twice as blue, when he looked at you like that, like he wanted you to stay.

You made no move to step away from your stance between his legs and while his hands stayed planted on his thighs you could tell he was inching closer to you, though he’d never make the first move, not after what happened with Brock.

“Maybe I should double check,” you said, almost breathless.

Your hand slid up the side of his arm, with more courage than you’d ever had in your veins in a single moment in time, and cupped the side of his face again. You didn’t have the energy to even pretend to look at the bandaged cut because your eyes were flickering to his lips; pink and pillowy and so incredibly perfect.

Your free hand came up to rest on his shoulder, playing absentmindedly with the fabric of his black t-shirt and as you took a step forward, though impossibly small because it was miracle in itself you could get closer than you already were, Bucky’s hands slowly came to your hips. It was timid at first, gently seeking permission and waiting for a soft nod from you before he tugged you closer.

His breath was warm on your cheeks the closer you leaned in. Lips ghosted against yours and a soft chuckle left him as he winced at the touch, the cut on his lip from the fight stinging at the feel of you. He moved to readjust, positioning himself so that it was his upper lip you captured between your own, not that you much minded, because the thought of him alone was enough to keep you sustained, despite the trembling in your legs.

You hardly even noticed the office door swing open.

“Hey Bucky I could use some help with—oh, I’m sorry!”

You jumped away from him instantly, stumbling back from the shock of Wanda’s entrance back into the office and the flush of her cheeks as she turned away. Bucky’s hand reached out to grab yours before you crashed into his bookshelf and he was grinning wildly, almost impossible to contain.

“What’s going on Wan?” Bucky asked sweetly, though he didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Burgess isn’t as keen on letting me close up as the rest of them were,” she said apprehensively, offering him an apologetic grimace.

“Ok, kid, I’ll be right out,” he replied and Wanda quickly exited the room again, muttering another apology under her breath. Bucky laughed breathily as he stood up, hand still tight in yours. “Promise you won’t go far? I’d like to make sure you get home safe, if that’s alright?”

You nodded quickly, not trusting your own words from the nervous aching in your bones. As Bucky slipped past you, he pressed a quick kiss to your hairline, winking before he stepped out of the room. You exhaled a breath you were sure was held since the moment his hands touched your hips and slumped down into the chair. The sharp vibrations that came from your phone nearly pulled a yelp out of you.

Glancing down at the caller ID, you saw an image of Natasha with about three dumplings stuffed in her cheeks and tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. You rolled your eyes, picking up the phone.

“How’d it go!” she shouted the second you pulled the phone to your ear.

Not bothering with greetings, it seemed.

“I can’t believe you would set me up with that monster,” you hissed, glancing back at the door. “What is the matter with you!”

“Forget Brock,” she groaned, “I’m talking about Bucky!”

You froze. “Wait, what? How do you know about Bucky?”

“Do you seriously think I would set you up with Brock Rumlow?” she gasped, feigning offense. “He’s a Grade A asshole and will hit on anything with legs.”

You rubbed at your temples. “Nat...”

“Ok, so... I may have set you up on a blind date, but it wasn’t with the guy I told you it was with,” Natasha explained, “and maybe I didn’t tell Bucky either, but I would bet next month’s paycheck that you two hit it off instantly and he got all worked up and jealous with Rumlow around. Did he come to your rescue? Bucky really loves being a hero...”

You shook your head, hand planted into your face and trying to process what she was telling you. Natasha wove people around her fingers in string and let them dance beneath her hands. She was perceptive and intuitive and seemed to know the people in her life better than most of them knew themselves; you included. Still, you couldn’t help but be impressed. She was so much smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

“You’re incredibly manipulative. You know that don’t you?” you said, though there was a teasing tone in your voice, a smile on your face and frankly, relief that she didn’t actually think Brock was someone you’d like.

“I like to think of myself as strategic,” she retorted, laughing.

“Yeah, well, wait until you hear how your ‘strategic’ plan let Brock get far too handsy with me.”

“Did Bucky punch him out? I guarantee he went all White Knight for you.”

“I hate you,” you laughed. “I hate you so much.”

You glanced up to find Bucky standing in the doorway, just watching you contently with a smile on his face. You chewed on your lip, looking away from him nervously as a blush rose in your cheeks, wondering how long he’d been standing there.

“Nat, I have to go, but I’ll talk to you when I get home, alright?”

“He’s in the room now, isn’t he?”

You could practically see the gloating smirk upon her face as she sat curled up on the couch and twirling a pen around her fingers. It was criminal how often she was proven right.

“Goodbye, Natasha,” you pressed, ignoring her protests and tossing your phone back into your purse.

“That the supposed friend that set you up with Rumlow?” Bucky teased, crossing the room to you and leaning against the desk. You settled in next to him and felt your heart skip a beat at how quickly he let his hand slip into yours, nervously biting on his own lip.

“Turns out she wasn’t setting me up with Brock at all,” you shrugged and when Bucky furrowed his brow in confusion you explained, “I think we have a mutual friend. Romanoff.”

Bucky started laughing at that, shaking his head, with a grit of his teeth. “Of course, she’s involved in this. I can’t believe she actually pulled off another double blind.”

“A what?”

“A double blind. Like in research studies when the participant and the researcher both don’t know if they’re in the treatment or control group,” Bucky clarified, unable to shake the smile from his face. “She’s done this before with my buddy, Steve, and his fiancé Peggy. She puts people in these situations she knows will lead to some kind of organic connection they never would have had otherwise. It takes your guard down, opens you up to something you might not otherwise see. I mean, think about it. Would you have ever stepped foot in this bar if you weren’t supposed to meet Rumlow here?”

“I think I could have done without Brock in general,” you laughed. “I was liking you all on your own before he even showed up. Though, I’ve never had someone fight for my honor before.”

“Wish it was under better circumstances, but I won’t say I’m against having an excuse to punch the guy.” Bucky grinned, stepping in closer to you, his hands sliding up your arms tenderly until the rested against your neck, his thumbs running over your jawline in soothing sweeps.

He sighed, his smile softening as he looked down at you, like he was memorizing the intricate details in your completion. “Is it bad to say I’m happy Rumlow isn’t a better guy? You knocked me out from the second you walked in this bar and if he was a decent guy, maybe you wouldn’t have even given me a second look.”

“I would have,” you said adamantly and when Bucky met your eye again, you could see the surprise lingering in his features. There was a trace of uncertainty, an insecurity you didn’t expect from a man so charming, so beautiful, and so incredibly willing to jump to your defense in the very second you needed him.

In a surge of courage, as his gaze flickered down longingly to your lips, you closed the space between you. Your hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, the hardened ripple of muscle beneath evident against your touch, and it took Bucky a moment to pull himself from the shock of it before he kissed you back.

Fingers raking against your scalp, he captured your lips in his, pulling your lower into his mouth and sucking sweetly enough to draw a moan from you before his tongue swept over it. You yanked him closer, tugging on his shirt, only find him pressed up against you with nowhere else to go.

With the lingering scent of alcohol in his clothes, you drank him in. Lips moving against one another, hands roaming and aching for more, and only pulling away when you were breathless and his lips were red and swollen and so impossibly gorgeous.

You met each other’s eyes, a laugh breaking through the both of you as you leaned forward against his chest, just caught up in the rush of everything that happened and the adrenaline in your veins that led you to this moment. Bucky’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you securely to his chest and you felt his lips press gently to the crown of your head; a soft, delicate gesture that expected nothing in return.

“I’m a little annoyed I’ll have to thank Natasha later,” you teased, drawing another laugh out of him.

“I’ll happily do it for you, if you like,” Bucky offered, pulling back just enough to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll throw my pride in the Hudson and thank her a thousand times if you let me kiss you like that again.”

“Yeah?” you giggled, leaning up to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips before you pulled away, leaving him wanting. “What about a date?”

“I’ll give you any date you want,” he replied quickly, seeking out your lips again as his arms wrapped around your waist again and pulled your feet from the ground. You broke away laughing and he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Just say yes and I’ll take you anywhere, give you anything your heart desires.”

“That’s a bold offer,” you commented, grinning at him.

“Not when it’s sincere,” he replied, sending you a wink that made you knees feel weak.

As he grabbed your bag for you and led you to the doorway, his gentle hold around your shoulders serving as lingering connection to you in sharp contrast to the way Brock’s touch was an act of possession, you leaned into him with every step. The soft vibrations of his laugh, the low tone of his voice, and the gentle touch of his hands caught up in your senses as he walked you home.

Your regret of leaving your apartment faded in an instant the second you first saw him and even now with his pace in line with yours and your arm wrapped at his waist, you ardently decided you’d deal with a hundred Brock Rumlows if it brought you to Bucky.

If it brought you to blue eyes and kind smiles.

Your knight in a black t-shirt and faded jeans.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #needcoffees2k

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 4 years

Text

Downward Goat (Part 2/?)

(Part One)

Summary: In which Eskel gets to know Jaskier a little better and Jaskier makes a new four-legged friend.

The next time goat yoga is scheduled, Eskel makes sure he’s showered, freshly shaved, and wearing his nicest pair of jeans and a new flannel shirt without any holes or stains. When Deidre shows up for work, she blinks at him in surprise. “You look dapper.”

He doesn’t know whether or not he should be offended by her surprise. “If you think this is dapper, your girlfriend needs to take you out more.”

“Feel free to tell Renfri that in a couple of minutes. She’s coming to yoga.”

“Is that who that second coffee is for?” Eskel nods to the two enormous iced coffees in her hands. “With all that whipped cream, I know it’s not for me.”

“No, it’s for Jask. He can’t drink coffee unless it tastes like a candy bar threw up in it.”

“Lovely,” Eskel says dryly. “How do you know Jaskier, again?”

“Oh, he was in my Econ class last year. He had no idea what was going on for most of the semester, but he’s so good at talking out of his ass that no one knew the difference.”

“Ah.” If Jaskier is around the same age as Deidre, who is twenty-two, then he’s even younger than Eskel realized, far too young for Eskel to be wondering what kind of leggings he’ll be wearing today. A hope that Eskel didn’t even realize he was harboring shrivels up in his chest and dies.

There’s a horrible noise and Eskel and Deidre both look up to see the shittiest car in existence pull up next to Deidre’s. It’s a rusted brown sedan with a windshield that’s so badly cracked that Eskel can’t believe it passed inspection, a missing driver’s side mirror, and an engine that makes a terrible rattling sound. If Geralt, who used to work in a mechanic’s shop part time before he became a park ranger at Blue Mountains National Park, saw this car, he would probably have a stroke.

“Good morning!” Jaskier sings out as he bounces out of the death trap. “Oh, Deidre, love of my life, light of my soul—”

“Keep it in your pants, Jask.” She holds out the coffee to him. “I can’t believe you still drive that piece of shit.”

He gasps and takes the offered coffee with an air of wounded dignity. Today, he’s wearing a pair of shimmery blue-green leggings patterned to look like fish scales. He resembles some kind of mercreature from a fairy tale. “Pegasus has been my noble steed since I was sixteen! She even passed inspection this year.”

“Only because you cried all over the mechanic and he wanted you out of his shop.”

“You’re lucky I’m reliant on you for caffeine this morning, or I would be reconsidering this friendship.”

“And then where would I be?” The acid in her voice is belied by the slight curl of her lips.

Eskel clears his throat. “Morning, Jaskier.”

“Eskel!” Jaskier turns to beam at him. “It’s so good to see a friendly face, unlike this she-demon. Are you joining us in class today?”

“Told you, yoga’s not my thing.”

“And I told you, you might surprise yourself.” Jaskier winks at him. “You should pop your head in. You might see something that changes your mind.”

Eskel carefully doesn’t look anywhere but at Jaskier’s face. He doesn’t notice that the shirt Jaskier is wearing is the same vibrant blue as his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Eskel doesn’t intend to poke his head into the tent where goat yoga is being held. It’s a busy morning. The fact that most of his tasks for the morning are within earshot of the tent, so he can hear Jaskier’s cheerful voice reminding the class to breathe, is purely coincidental. But when he hears an outburst of giggles from the tent, he can’t help but look inside to see what the fuss is about.

There are about a dozen students in the class, including Aiden, Renfri, Geralt’s wife, Yennefer, and her girlfriend, Triss. At the front of the tent, Jaskier is doing the one yoga pose Eskel is familiar with: downward dog. Eskel would be distracted by the sight of Jaskier’s blue, sparkly, and unbelievably nice ass sticking in the air if it weren’t for the goat standing on his back.

Lil Bleater is only a few months old and has already shown more personality than most goats— and most people, for that matter— do in a lifetime. Meaning, she’s a menace who likes to bully all the other animals and get into things she’s not supposed to. The little brown and white goat has her front hooves planted between Jaskier’s shoulder blades and is nibbling on his hair. Jaskier’s face is bright red from the effort of holding in his laughter.

It’s the cutest thing Eskel has ever seen, except for maybe that time Ciri dressed as a goat for Halloween when she was six.

Renfri manages to snap a picture, which Deidre immediately decides to use for marketing purposes. It goes on all the flyers and the social media posts that she puts out. And if in the coming weeks, Eskel frequently finds himself looking at the flyer he has pinned up in his office and feeling a warm glow in his chest at the sight of Jaskier’s laughing eyes and brilliant smile, that’s no one’s business but his own.

Next time: Pegasus turns out to be a less noble steed than advertised and the rest of Eskel’s family makes an appearance.

@sternenstaub28 @tsukiwolf42 @maya-the-yellow-bee @eyesofshinigami @thenameislion-dandelion (sorrry, it won’t let me tag you!)

If anyone else would like to be tagged in future installments, please let me know!

#the witcher #jaskel #jeskel #eskel x jaskier #eskel/jaskier #eskel #jaskier #my fic #my writing #modern au #downward goat au

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yuzukult · 4 years

Text

effortlessly pt. 2 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (not in this chapter) words: ~3.0k notes: this fic might be longer or shorter than planned, i have no idea what i’m planning for this so...... yeah, figured i should drop something before i drown myself bc i have finals for my online summer semester ;u;

o young love, how i wish i could go back in time // also it’s not edited yet, i usually proofread about 5x because i have the worse eyesight and i read too fast :D series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

The chlorine from the school’s pool overwhelms your senses, triggering you to sneeze a couple times into the crook of your arm. “Bless you!”

Lifting your head to meet your gaze with the owner of the words, you see Jungkook standing before you, swimming cap in one hand and a towel in the other, tousling his hair dry. He doesn’t have a shirt on, just his bathing trunks that hang loosely on his hips, and you swear that if he wasn’t preoccupied, he would’ve seen the drool coming from the corner of your mouth.

“Uh, thanks.”

“You came.” He grins, plopping his wet body onto the bench beside you as you grimace at the water from his trunks splattering at you. “I kind of thought I scared you away earlier.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You say, feigning ignorance. “You told me the other day you wanted me to come by after practice and here I am.”

“You know what I’m talking about. That ‘crush’ conversation.”

You roll your eyes at him, pushing him away playfully. “I thought I told you it was Yura with the crush.” Jungkook shakes his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue in unison. “I’ve known you your entire life. You’re telling me that I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“No, but—” He’s leaning close, his soaked fringe dripping onto your skin, goosebumps forming on your arms. “What?”

“Just trying to get a better read on you.” The proximity between you and Jungkook is small, so small that you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath the entire time until he backs away and you let out a deep exhale. “W-What for?” You manage to respond.

“What do you think about us... doing it again?”

He’s not looking at you this time, hands running through his drenched locks, eyes never leaving the concrete ground. The question startles you. For one, Jungkook was being shy. He never seemed to hide things from you before but that assumption was proven wrong when you saw the girl he brought him the other day. Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to call you up when he just took the biggest shit or even when he picked the longest booger. Why was he suddenly acting bashful?

“... again?” You reiterate, hands clutching onto the bench. “You want to do what again?”

“Uh... sleep together.”

“Jeon, we always sleep together. I don’t understand why you’re being weird—“

“No,” he sighs frustratedly at himself, knowing his question was unclear while slouching over in his seat. “When I say sleep together, I meant have sex again. I feel like I fucked up our first time together and I want to make up for it.”

Oh. Was that all? After the incident, you’d been as emotionally intelligent as you could, pushing to the back of your mind the fact that you’re so in love with Jeon Jungkook and you’ve both had his first kiss and virginity— for him, likewise. How yes, these things were far from perfect but to you, it was perfect because it was with him. That’s all that mattered.

“You don’t need to make up for anything. It was good! You took care of me and made sure I was okay. Apparently, it hurts like hell but you made it bearable.”

“I... really want to try again. What if we try teaching each other so that when the time comes and we meet someone, we’re ready?”

By the time we meet someone. The words burned in your heart, hissing as the pain clenched your chest. You knew that you didn’t want to meet ‘someone,’ you just wanted Jungkook. Just then, the girl comes to mind.

“Is it about that girl?” Jungkook’s head shoots in your direction, brows crinkled in confusion. “What girl?”

You’re chewing your bottom lip anxiously, waving your hanging legs above the ground. “I saw you bring a girl home the other day. Is it about her?”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change for a moment before an ‘ah’ escapes his mouth with the memory. “You mean Dahyun? I’m tutoring her in my free time. I needed some money. What? Are you jealous?” His lips tug in a mischievous smile; he’s genuinely enjoying the way your face contorts into realization, his heart warm at the idea of you wary of someone else capturing his attention.

“No.” You quickly mutter under your breath, a bit annoyed with yourself for letting your emotions get to you so quickly. This was Jungkook you were talking about here— the one guy who could pretty much land a date with any girl at your school, yet he’s over here playing games with you instead. It’s no surprise that he’s teasing you again but you’re wishing he was serious.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the only girl in my life?”

You shove him off the bench, rolling your eyes. “Why did you want me here again?” He’s on the floor, a hearty laugh roaring from his chest. He’s effortlessly handsome like this and it’s no wonder that you’ve fallen for him.

“I think you should reconsider my question and let me know when you’re ready. But besides that,” Jungkook is getting off of the solid ground, rubbing his bottom in the process. “I want you to come to my swim meet this Friday. You’re my good luck charm and I can’t win without you.”

“Why do I feel like those one of girls who are hopelessly in love with him?” You grumble into your arms, rubbing your hands into your face dishearteningly. “I feel so stupid, falling for his charms and everything. You know what he said to me again today?”

Yura’s in the process of shoving the cheesy goodness of tteokbokki into her mouth, sauce spilling out on the sides of her lips. She always had the biggest appetite and ate messily but it never stopped the queue of men standing outside her locker trying to shove in love letters on Valentine’s Day. Yura was a pure beauty— you always found yourself curious how the two of you became friends because you thought you weren’t as special, just average. But nonetheless, Yura had never failed to be there for you, through thick and thin, and your love for her in this friendship was almost the equivalent to what you felt for Jungkook. Except you were in love with Jungkook.

“Wha de he say?” She doesn’t even wait to finish swallowing her food, she just speaks through it, spitting some of the hot sauce onto your side of the table as you scowl in disgust.

“Jesus, Yura, chew and swallow first.”

“Sorry,” She smiles cheekily after emptying her mouth. “What did he say?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the only girl for me? I want you to come to my swim meet this Friday. You’re my good luck charm and I can’t win without you.”

Both of Yura’s brows raise up. “Oh wow, he’s definitely smitten with you. So, when are you gonna tell him that you’re ‘hopelessly in love’ with him?”

You sigh. “I can’t. I’ll ruin our friendship.”

“You’re doing this ass backwards,” She says, shaking her head as she picks out a fish cake from the bowl. “You guys fucked and yet you think that confessing your feelings will ruin your friendship?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you exhale another deep breath of sadness. “I’m just happy with where we are. I like being the special one in his life. What if I tell him and he doesn’t reciprocate feelings?”

“Worry about it then.” She responds casually, stuffing another spoonful into her mouth. “I don’t understand why people get so scared of telling someone how they feel. You never know your opportunity until you try it. Plus, it’s Jungkook. You really think he’s going to just drop you after all these years?”

Maybe Yura was right. Well— there was no way in hell you’d let her know that because her ego would swell up and get the best of her, but she made a valid point. Jungkook doesn’t know that you like him, right? So what if he did feel something for you?

“Think about it. Has he ever had a girlfriend?”

Silent, you’re almost skimming your mental memory of any recollection of Jungkook having a relationship. “Honestly, no.”

“And he tells you everything.”

“Correct.” You answer again.

“Don’t you feel like he’s waiting for something? Or someone in particular? You even mentioned it before, he happens to have the entire women population of this school crawling at his feet and all he does is act dumb.”

A floral square neck short sleeve crop top and blue jeans were what you decided to leave the house with for Jungkook’s swim competition but you don’t feel like yourself underneath this fabric. In actuality, you would never find yourself walking out the house in something so... fitted, opting for something more comfortable and breathable, but you knew today wasn’t a day for that. You’d gather enough courage to finally tell Jungkook that you didn’t want to be just friends anymore, you were ready to take it to the next level.

Sitting down on the bleachers of the humid arena, the stench of chlorine attacks your sense of smell again. You could never understand what it felt like to be Jungkook— he lived for the aroma of the water entering in his nostrils, the feeling of water touching his skin for hours, having so much control whenever he was in the pool. Whenever he was stressed, angry or sad, the first place you’d look for him would be here. Mediations were for some people, but swimming was for Jungkook.

He’s walking toward you, a beautiful grin spreading from ear to ear, wearing what seems to be insufferable competitive swim trunks that hug the lower half his body so tightly it could be a second layer of skin. He hasn’t worn his cap yet, but he’s holding it in his hand with his goggles, arms opened wide for you to come into his embrace.

“I’m seriously so happy you’re here. And look at you! All dressed up. Is this for me?” You scoff yet you’re already in his arms, face snuggled into his bare chest. He smelled like the water but when it’s coming from him, the scent is intoxicating. “Why would you even expect me not to come? I’m always rooting for you and your dreams, you idiot.”

For a brief moment, you’re standing on the sidelines with his arms wrapped around your frame and his chin resting on your head. Being with Jungkook was different, he made you feel a way that none of the guys that came into your life have made you feel.

Summers ago, you met this handsome boy, Taehyung. He was a few years older than both you and Jungkook and a member of the same swim team as Jungkook. Taehyung was the love that you knew realistically would never like you back. He was close to graduation, prepping for the recruiters who would attend their swim competitions to see potential candidates for colleges. Girls were flaunting themselves on him just as much as Jungkook and just as similar to him, his aspirations were a priority. Those girls were put in the back burner. He’d make your heart swell in your chest, constantly bringing you snacks and checking in on you occasionally as you study on the sidelines by the pool, waiting for your best friend to finish practice. You recall telling Jungkook about your childish crush on the guy you barely knew and him responding with, “You just think he’s cute. I don’t think you really like him,” or “He’s just being nice! He’s nice to everyone. Don’t fall for his charms so quickly.”

All of your feelings for Taehyung disappeared the day he graduated, saying his goodbyes to both you and Jungkook while in his blue gown, newly dyed platinum locks disheveled underneath his cap. He ruffles Jungkook’s hair, eyes gleaming toward the younger male before saying, “Take care of yourself, will ya? And take care of the little one too. Don’t let her fall between the cracks.” With that, he left with a scholarship to swim for the college team abroad in the United States, and you haven’t heard from him since.

The whistle blows, signaling the swimmers to get in their positions, and Jungkook lets go of you and you’re suddenly feeling empty. But the look he gifts you is loving, the reflection of the sunlight hitting the pool touches his face before he’s putting on his swim cap and goggles.

Jungkook is standing on the platform, side by side with other competitors from local high schools. Although you’ve come to almost all his practices and attended every single swim meet, you couldn’t exactly grasp onto any of the rules or the jargon but Jungkook never held that against you. He just wanted you there as his personal cheerleader, standing in the bleachers, watching him perform the greatest act as each time he does this is better than the last.

The referee blows a short series of whistles, initiating the start of the race and Jungkook dives into the water in mere milliseconds amongst the rest of the swimmers. He’s fast—incredibly fast that you’re afraid to blink because you might miss something important.

Jungkook was placed in the freestyle 100m event; his coach evidently complimented him constantly for his ability to adapt to the time and switch the types of strokes he needed to use in order to beat anyone neck and neck with him.

Today was no exception. Jungkook hit his first lap in third place; a technique he learned was to never overexert your strengths in the beginning because in the last portion of the race was where you want to push yourself to the fullest. The amount of videos he made you sit through the entirety of throughout your life was countless. He would plop himself in front of the television or computer for hours, observing the olympic and professional swimmers tactics because his parents couldn’t afford a private teacher for him. It wasn’t until high school that he had a real coach, someone who could dedicate their time in training and shaping Jungkook into the athlete he wanted to be. Before that, he would come to school’s indoor pool almost daily to just swim laps and test out what he watched on the internet.

His second lap was closing to its end and like every other swim meet, your stomach was doing flips. There was so much faith in Jungkook, from you, his parents, his team, but you weren’t sure how he felt about himself. He never failed to impress everyone, swooning the hearts of both males and females during these events however never once has he expressed his anxiety before a competition. He just did it because he loved it. Swimming was Jungkook’s passion.

The male next to him is close, they’re strokes away from each other to the point you can’t even tell who’s in the lead. It ends so quickly that the referee blows into his whistle before you realize as Jungkook ascends from the water, snapping off his cap and goggles as he eyes the man in the white and black striped shirt before glancing over at his opponent.

The referee grabs Jungkook’s wrist with another scream of the whistle, and excitedly, Jungkook smacks the water. He won.

Towel hanging around his neck, his eyes sparkle at the sight of you approaching after his team congratulates him eagerly on his win. If you knew better, the sight of you was his own personal win.

“Congrats, Jeon.” You say, playfully pulling on his drenched locks. “I knew you’d win. You always win.”

“I always win because you’re here.” There he goes again, tugging on your heartstrings so carelessly. “Come join us for dinner after this.”

“Only if you dedicate some alone time with me for dessert.” You have no idea what being possess you because you’re abruptly so bold. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head questioningly. “Now you’re just tempting me to cancel dinner and go right to dessert. What do you want to talk about?”

“Just... stuff,” You say, pursing your lips. Before Jungkook can even say anything, another teammate comes up to him, slapping him on his buttock with a bright smile. “Look at little Kook, I’m not even surprised he even won.”

“I told you, I got myself a personal cheerleader. You should get one too.” Jungkook says, grasping onto your arm. “It’s a real energy booster when they’re cute too.”

“Oooo, maybe I can borrow your cheerleader!” His teammate teases but Jungkook clicks his tongue threateningly. “Get your own, this one is mine.” His teammate laughs before shaking his head and walking away to the rest of the group.

“I’m still curious what you’re going to say to me.” He says, turning back to direct his attention onto you. “You think you can skip waiting ‘til dessert and tell me now?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” He whines and despite his height, he still can throw a tantrum like a child. “I really want to—“

“Oppa?”

The two of you divert your fixation onto the owner of the soft voice; blinking blankly, your eyes browse over the girl. You assume it’s Dahyun because her hair is down like the other day and her petite body seems familiar and you’re proven right when Jungkook calls out her name.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a math test tomorrow that you need to study for?”

She has a pink gift bag in her hand, butterfly and heart stickers decorated all over. The bag looks heavy with how the handles stretch to the fullest extent. You’re chewing your bottom lip now; Dahyun was going to confess and you’re unsure if Jungkook can tell.

“Can we talk in private for a moment, Oppa? I have to tell you something.”

“You can tell me here.” He gestures your presence with a grin on his face. “I don’t have anything to hide from her, she doesn’t judge so tell me what you have to say freely. And if she does judge...” Jungkook’s gaze shifts to you as he squints his eyes. “I’ll just beat her up.”

“Oppa, I think I like you. Will you go out with me?”

#gyukultfics #jungkook #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fics #what else do you tag here i totally forgot my train of thought lol #kfanfic #jungkook fic #bangtan #jungkook smut #bangtan smut #bts smut

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years

Text

Forever Hold Your Peace | Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader | Chapter 3 | The Bachelor Party

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader

Summary: Tom Hiddleston dated Benedict's little sister (reader) back at Cambridge, after a bad breakup Tom and Benedict are now friends. The reader is now engaged to an American who Benedict does not trust. Ben turns to his good friend Tom to help break up the wedding and win back the girl he never truly got over.

This Chapter: Tom keeps running into you as wedding preparations kick into high gear. An incident at the bachelor party resolves Tom to join Benedict of this plan of wedding ruin.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slapping, cursing.

The wedding preparations moved fast over the next two weeks. You had time no to stay mad at Ben. You needed the help.

“Why isn’t what’s his face here to pick out a cake?” Ben grumbled as he took a bite of white cake.

“He needed to take care of some things at work, but he is meeting me at the florist at 3 to pick out the flowers.”

“How convenient.”

“I thought you would be nice.” you snapped as crumbs fell from your mouth.

“This is me being nice. Pardon me for thinking the groom should take part in the details of his own wedding.” Ben rolled his eyes.

You pushed away from the table. “This visa thing has stressed him out. And I would expect my family to be supportive!” You stormed off to get some fresh air. As you pushed the door open, you ran into the gentleman entering the shop.

“So sorry.” you muttered.

“My apologies.”

“Tom?” you asked as you spied familiar blue eyes staring at you.

“It’s nice to see you. You look fantastic.“ He pulled you into a hug. You held him just a second too long.

“You too. Why are you… My brother called you, didn’t he?”

Tom laughed. “He asked me to meet him here to go out for a drink. But it looks like I am a bit early.”

“Nonsense. We were wrapping up.” You fidgeted with your hair, flustered.

You opened the door and the two of you stepped back in. Ben’s face lit up when he noticed Tom walking with you. Now there was a brother-in-law he could live with.

Tom hugged Benedict. “Dirty pool at giving me the wrong time, mate.” Tom whispered.

Ben smiled wide. “Just reminding her of the options.”

“I’m not an option.“ Tom turned to you. “Where is your fiancé? I was hoping to meet him before the bachelor party this weekend.”

You swallowed. “You’re going to that?!”

“At your brother’s request. Now where is the man who swept the most beautiful girl I ever dated off her feet?” Tom winked at Ben. You didn’t notice because you were too busy hiding your embarrassment.

“He had work stuff. Something to do with his visa.” You made excuses. “He’s stressed what with the wedding and all.”

Tom gave a soft smile and kissed your temple. “Of course. I can only imagine. Well, let me take your brother off your hands and let you get back to planning the big day.” Tom saw the worry on your face. “I would suggest a simple vanilla cake, if it were me.”

You nodded and gave both of them quick hugs, but your eyes filled with sadness as they left you alone in the bakery.

Once Tom and Ben walked out of sight, Tom punched Benedict hard in the shoulder. “Next time give me a little warning.”

“And where would be the fun in that?” Ben laughed. “It is so rare I catch you off guard. And if it must come at my sister’s expense…”

Tom scowled. “Speaking of your sister, where is the infamous Billy Bob?”

Ben groaned. “Working, but I have my suspicions he is othwersie occupied.”

Tom furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“He is never around. All the big events of this wedding he has missed. No one works that much. Not even you.”

Tom frowned. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“She doesn’t take me seriously. I’m just the annoying big brother. Now if you…” Ben looked at Tom with hopeful eyes.

“Oh no,” Tom backed away as they reached the pub. “Absolutely not. I will not ruin your sister’s wedding based on your paranoid suspicions.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are but I am not willing to die for that friendship. And your sister would kill me.”

“Coward.” They sat down in a booth.

“To want to continue living. Yes I am a coward.”

Tom’s look said to drop the subject, which Benedict obliged and they enjoyed the rest of the meal. They parted making plans to meet for the dreaded bachelor party that weekend.

“Please don’t leave alone during this horrid affair.” Ben pleaded.

“I promise I would come didn’t I?

“True but…”

“Then I will come.” Tom assured him. “And I will get to meet the infamous Billy Bob.”

“Indeed. And you will then understand why this wedding must never happen.” Tom raised an eyebrow and Ben held his hands up. “Apologies.”

“Goodbye Benedict. Good luck on your hairbrained scheme. Try not to make your sister cry.”

“That’s your job, Tom.”

Tom laughed it off as they parted, but Ben’s words stung his heart. He hoped to never make you cry ever again.

You answered the door of your brother’s home to find Tom standing in jeans and t-shirt. His blond hair tousled in curls.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He winked at you.

You bit your lip. “We do. Although…” you glanced over your shoulder. “… I suspect my brother may have something to do with that.”

Tom laughed. “I suspect you’re right.” He shuffled his feet out of nerves. “Listen… I know it’s been years but I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders slumped. “It’s fine. I’m over it.” You stepped outside to leave. Tom grabbed your hand.

“No, it’s not fine. I behaved like a right bastard and no one deserves to be treated less than.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Thank you, Tom.”

“And look at you now, successful and getting married in two days to the man of your dreams! I wish I could be there to see it.”

You nodded as his words hit your heart. Was William the man of your dreams or just the man you said yes to? You pushed the troubling thought aside.

“I’m sure Ben will share pictures.” You wanted to get out of there. Away from Tom’s charm. You stepped down the stairs.

Tom gave a killer smile to hide his heartache. “I won’t keep you any longer. You must have lots to do.”

You nodded. “It was good to see you, Tom.” You lied.

“You too.” He kissed your cheek. “Good luck tomorrow.”

You hustled away before you cried in front of him. Ben came to the door just as you disappeared from view.

“Still hitting it off with the ladies, I see.” Benedict teased.

“Weren’t you the one who forbade me to date a member of your family?” He raised an eyebrow as they got into the car.

“A position I am reconsidering. Thank you for accompanying me to this thing.”

“Why did you invite me, anyway?”

“You mean I can’t enjoy the company of one of my best friends for an evening?”

“No.”

“You’re right. I need a second opinion on William. And a second pair of eyes—”

“— to spy—”

“—to observe.” Benedict shot daggers at Tom.

“Another word for spying.”

“Are you going to help?”

“I intend on enjoying myself tonight.”

“Then we agree.”

“Not at all.”

This continued until they pulled up to the club. It was the sort of place Tom and Benedict would never frequent of their own accord. Too trendy, too loud, too bright.

It’s the “classic bachelor party” William explained to Benedict who later relayed that to Tom.

“In other words, too much booze and too much boobs.” Tom commented.

“It’s that rather crass. On second thought, that’s probably what he thought.” Benedict quipped. They grabbed drinks at the bar. “Oh shit, here he comes.”

Benedict hooked his chin towards a sweaty and smiling man.

“Holy fuck! It’s Loki!” William screamed over the loud club music.

Tom nearly spit out his drink. He hated him already. “In the flesh.” he choked out as William took his hand into his meaty paw and shook it hard, squeezing.

William punched Ben in the shoulder. “Bro, you never told me you knew Loki!”

Tom giggled behind William’s back at Ben’s discomfort. “You never asked.” Ben scoffed.

William spun to speak to Tom and Benedict pulled faces behind, mouthing “wanker” at Tom.

“Dude, do you know Arnold Schwarzenegger? He is my favorite.”

Benedict rolled his eyes.

“I’m afraid not, William.” Tom gave a tight smile. “But Ben you were at that BAFTA event last week…”

That was all it took to send William talking a mile a minute. Tom smiled at Benedict as he walked away to leave Benedict to fend for himself for a bit.

“Serves him right.” Tom muttered to himself as he went off to find a dark corner.

Ben didn’t resurface until 30 minutes later.

“You’ll pay for that.” Benedict cursed as he sidled up Tom at the bar.

“Fair is fair.” Tom smiled. “How is Billy Bob?”

“On his third cocktail and even more insufferable than usual with his mates by his side.” Benedict’s voice dripped with disdain.

“Shame. Here’s to getting out of here unaccosted.” Tom raised his glass.

A heavy hand hit Benedict’s shoulder.

“Onto our second stop for the night.”

Tom and Benedict furrowed their brows.

“I beg your pardon?” Benedict questioned.

“This was just the appetizer, bro. Onto the entrée. Zander will give you the address.” He walked away but not before shooting his fingers at the two men.

A tall thin man with slicked down black hair, who was Zander, gave them the address to a private residence. Benedict called the car.

“Do you have any idea where we are going?” Tom asked.

“I wasn’t consulted on the party plans. It’s probably a stripper popping out of a cake, judging by this crowd.”

Tom buried his head in his hand. “God, I hope not.”

The private residence was the rental for the groomsman. Everyone else headed to the parlor while Tom and Benedict wandered to the kitchen to see if there was anything edible in this house. They found only beer in the fridge.

“William! We are going to grab some food and be right back.” Tom yelled.

“Whatever, dude.” William yelled, his voice coming from the crowd of his friends.

Curious, they took a step into the parlor. The men hooted and hollered as rock music played from an unseen sound system.

“I’m afraid you were right.” Tom pointed towards the center of the room. All he saw was a buxom woman wearing little more than a thong and pasties.

Both of them moved out of the room after getting an eyeful of flesh. They sighed as they stepped out into the cool London air.

“That was awkward.” Tom commented.

The two laughed at the absurdity of their situation as they walked towards the nearest store.

They returned thirty minutes later to a very different scene. The rock music still blasted throughout the house. However, most of the guys were passed out on the furniture or playing video games.

“Where’s William?” Benedict asked a guy name Ashton.

The blond guy just shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you think?” Tom questioned. “Do you want to take the food home?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Tom handed the bags to Benedict. “I am going to the loo first.” He turned to Ashton. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Upstairs, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

Tom shuffled off.

“I mean right!” Ashton yelled after Tom.

Tom headed upstairs and opened the second door on the left, which led to a bedroom. A bedroom occupied by the stripper and one gentleman from the party, in a state of undress.

“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” Tom apologized. “I was looking for the restroom?”

“Second door on the right, dude.” a familiar voice answered.

“William?” Tom squinted at the man whose neck was being sucked on by a nearly naked woman.

“Loki?”

Tom’s vision flashed white as his hand balled into a fist and it connected with William’s face.

“The name’s Thomas, Billy Bob.” Tom shook his hand out as William laid sprawled unconscious on the bed. He pointed at the stripper.

“He said he was one of the groomsman!” she screamed.

“Your name?”

“Diamond.”

“Diamond.” Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Party’s over. Get dressed and get out.”

She nodded, too scared to ask questions.

Tom stomped down the stairs and found Ben leaning against a wall.

“I’m in.” Tom grabbed his arm. “I’ll explain in the car. Just tell me when this wedding is.”

Benedict couldn’t help but smile.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #forever hold your peace

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before-we-get-started · 3 years

Text

Dream Come True

Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Multi-Chapter Story - Complete

Summary: Colin Shea and his band Rock the Cradle are finally making it big - until something unexpected happens. When he meets a girl that makes him reconsider his player ways, he thinks his life may be coming together, until she blows it apart.

Warning: Bad language, smut, suicidal ideations - no one under 18, please

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. I do not own the character of Colin Shea; the rest are my original characters. By reading beyond this point, you understand the disclaimers as posted.

Chapter Eight

After fighting hard to go to sleep on Thursday night, Cori was so happy to see Friday. She’d replayed the conversation with Colin over and over in her head. At first she stayed angry, then felt ridiculous. Where the hell did that even come from? She’d done a great job hiding her feelings from him and enjoying their friendship, and now that was over too. He probably thought she was a complete idiot. She’d gone out of her way to avoid him and was thankful it was Friday because that would mean he’d be out at a gig. She went home from work and prepped for her dinner with Seth. She wore her favorite dress and shoes, pulled her hair up and wore her evening makeup look. She put on her jewelry and grabbed her purse and headed down for her Uber.

It was a typical Friday night. There was tons of traffic in the city. She was glad she’d allowed plenty of time to arrive for their reservation. As they crept along, she looked to her left at the front of The Bostonian Hotel. It was one of her favorites, classic but updated. Flags and banners hung from the front and an awning hid the front entrance. The Uber rolled forward enough to see under the awning and she gasped. Coming out of the hotel, in jeans and a t-shirt with his arm draped around a redhead was Seth. They stopped at the end of the main entrance walkway and he pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. She put her arms around his neck and they continued, kissing passionately.

Cori froze. She couldn’t even breathe. Tears stung her eyes. He lied to her. He told her he was out of town and would fly in at 7. All week he’d made excuses for not calling her, saying he was busy with meetings. He watched her walk her to a cab and once more, before helping her in, he put his hand on her cheek and kissed her so deeply, Cori thought she’d puke. He bent down as she sat in the back seat of the cab and kissed her once more. As the cab pulled out, he kept looking at her, laying his right arm over his heart and waving at her with the other.

She couldn’t see her hands in her lap, her eyes were blurred with tears. She tried to say something to the driver but couldn’t. She closed her eyes, tears spilling out onto her dress. The Uber moved another block past the hotel.

“Excuse me,” she squeaked out. “I need to get out. Now.”

The driver pulled to the left. “The fare is the same, Ma’am.”

“Yeah, ok, thanks.” She held tight to her clutch and climbed out of the car and stood unsteadily on her heels. She didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going, she just knew she needed air. She stepped onto the sidewalk and began walking. She walked for blocks, crossing streets, turning corners, with nowhere to go except as far away as she could get from her past and her present. Matthew and Seth had no problem leading her on, making her think they loved her with no plan to ever commit to her. Colin slept with everything that walked, but not her. No one wanted her. No matter what she did, she wasn’t enough for anyone.

Suddenly there was a clap of thunder and the skies opened up. Rain poured down on her, drenching her. Her phone began to ring and she looked – Seth. It was after 8. She closed her clutch and kept walking. She looked up and saw the sign at O’Leary’s, “Rock the Cradle Live Tonight.” Her tears picked up. Colin would be on display for all his adoring fans tonight and he’d pick one to spend the night with, but it wouldn’t be her. It wouldn’t ever be her.

As she walked past, someone near the side door of the bar yelled at her. She heard her name but didn’t stop, she wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Cori!”

She hesitated and then turned around.

“Cori!” He was running toward her. Her eyes were blurred by tears and rain. She hung her head and her shoulders started to shake as she sobbed.

He ran up to her, wrapping his arms around her, a charge going through both of them. They both jumped but he didn’t let go. He tipped her chin up to look at her.

“Oh Cori,” he said softly and pulled her closer. “What the hell is going on?”

She looked up into Colin’s beautiful blue eyes, his spikey hair wet with rain, his shirt plastered to his muscular chest.

“No one wants me,” she said softly. “No one. No one at all.” She sniffed and let out a shuddering sob. “I should’ve done it. I should’ve taken that last step.”

He pulled her close, electricity flowing through them. When he pulled away from her, he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Thunder clapped and lightning struck all around them, the sound deafening. And their memories flooded back – the beautiful blue water, the cliff, the golden sky, their embrace, the kiss that kept her among the living. She slowly opened her eyes and looked into his beautiful

blues.

“It’s you,” she said so softly it was almost inaudible. She suddenly remembered his handsome face, that dream body, and those blue eyes. How could she not have realized? “I’ve dreamed about you for so long, and you’re even better than my dream. You’re amazing Colin, I, I just - thank you, you saved my life.”

He looked at her, hurt and anger crossing his face. “And you ruined mine.” His eyes clouded with tears, stepping away from her.

Her breath caught in her throat and she sobbed loudly. “Oh Colin, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He took another step backward. “Everything I worked for, everything I wanted in my life. And somehow I had to keep you from taking yours. You ruined everything.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and spun around, jogging back to the bar.

Cori fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands. The rain poured on her and people walked past as she let out all of the hurt she’d felt for so long. And now she’d hurt the one person that meant the most to her. She’d been with Seth because she knew she’d never have Colin, that she wasn’t what he wanted. And now, he hated her.

She pulled herself up and started walking, not stopping until she reached her building. She climbed the stairs, went to her bedroom and dropped on the bed, crying until she was too tired to cry anymore, and finally fell into a fitful sleep.

All around him people were talking and laughing, dancing to the music playing over the speakers. Somehow he’d made it through their performance. He was in a daze. His body still buzzed from the contact they’d made, the kiss they’d shared, and the realization that what he thought was some kind of weird dream borne from his concussion had actually happened. Somewhere in some kind of afterlife, she had lost the will to live and he’d kept her from ending it all.

He took a long pull on his beer, trying to wrap his brain around it all. He’d never said a word about what happened to anyone. Once, when they were talking, he thought about telling Cori. He felt that comfortable with her. And then he thought about how crazy it all sounded and he dismissed it.

“Dude, you ok?” Kevin sat down next to him. “You’re uncharacteristically not hitting on all these girls.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I’m ok.”

Kevin looked at him. “Colin, you and I both know you’re not ok. What’s up?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Colin let out a little laugh. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

“Ok, can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Thanks man.” He headed out, walking the few blocks to his building. He walked up to 6A and looked over at her door, wondering if she was home.

For months he’d been angry and blamed himself for screwing things up for everyone. The fact that she didn’t care enough about herself to leave her family behind, lost in the sadness that she didn’t value her life – he couldn’t believe it. How could that be the Cori he knew?

Against his better judgment he walked over to her apartment. Her door was cracked open a little. He looked around and pushed it open more, listening but hearing nothing. All the lights were off. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, walking through the apartment. The bedroom was open to the living room. He walked past the couch and shined the light on her bed and she was there. She was still soaked, still in her dress, her shoes and clutch lying next to her on top of the blankets. She was asleep, but her face was twisted with worry.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over her damp chestnut hair. She looked so sad, so vulnerable. She had felt as good in his arms tonight as she did in that crazy dream, or whatever it was. Her face was damp with tears, her makeup faded and streaked across her cheeks.

She had mentioned she had a special date with Seth tonight, they were going to one of her favorite Italian restaurants. He was returning from a business trip and meeting her there. Colin saw her before his first set started – she couldn’t have had time for dinner. What had happened? He laid his hand on her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. It was impossible to fathom the sadness in her eyes, her face, her voice when he saw her tonight. “No one wants me. No one.”

He sighed and stood up, looking for a blanket. He pulled one from the back of the couch. He placed her shoes on the floor and her clutch on the nightstand and covered her with the blanket.

As he left, he turned the lock on her doorknob and pulled the door closed, just as Seth reached the top of the stairs.

“Colin, is she there?”

“Yeah. She’s asleep.”

He stopped and let out a breath, shaking his head. “She scared the shit out of me. I haven’t been able to reach her. She never showed up for dinner.”

Colin shook his head. “She couldn’t wait for your date tonight. I saw her about 8, she was devastated and crying. She said no one wanted her.”

Seth looked confused, then he looked down, leaning against the bannister.

“What?”

He looked at Colin. “Nothing.”

“Not nothing, what did you think of?”

He blew out a breath. “All I can think is that maybe she saw me.”

“Saw you what? Didn’t you fly in tonight?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

Colin was getting angry. “Not exactly. What the fuck does that mean?”

“Look Colin, this really isn’t any of your business –“

He took a few steps and rounded the bannister, within a few feet of Seth. “It is my business. What did you do.”

“Look, I’m no different than you or any other guy. I like Cori a lot but – well – she’s not the only girl I see.”

“Does she know that? Did you tell her that?”

“Uh, not in so many words.”

“Not at all, right?” he said angrily.

“No,” he said, looking down at the floor. “But hey, you understand, right? Cori has told me, you practically have a revolving door over here. Bro code, right?” He grinned.

“I’m not leading a girl on, thinking I’m the only guy she’s seeing after she was already destroyed by an asshole that told her he wanted to marry her but cheated on her over and over. That’s you. And no, not bro code. You’re a dick. You broke her heart. She was devastated tonight. You really hurt her.”

“Well, I’m sorry, ok? I mean, I didn’t mean to. I never promised her anything.”

“You never told her the truth either. Get the fuck out of here before I toss you over the railing.” Seth turned and trotted down the stairs, not looking back.

Colin went into his apartment and flopped onto the couch. He realized some things immediately – he’d fallen in love with Cori, and tonight, he’d blamed her for ruining his life and piled on when she’d already had her heart broken. It was a miracle she’d made it home safely. He should’ve taken her home, should’ve begged off from the band and made sure she was ok. Instead he walked, no ran away from her and left her in the rain by herself.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans angst #chris evans fanfiction #what's your number #dream come true #chris evans gif #colin shea fanfic #colin shea fanfiction #colin shea x ofc #colin shea x original fictional character #what's your number fanfic #what's your number fanfiction

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texasthegreatdestroyer · 3 years

Text

Just some theories and critcisms that I have the the recent two volumes.

Probably to start off from the beginning, Volume 7 was... interesting the say the least. Not that I hated it, because I didn't, I enjoyed many of the characters that they introduced to us, as well as I kinda enjoyed Penny making a come back, however I do have gripes about that, but I'll get into it a little further down the road. There was always one issue that I had with 7, and admitedly, it ruined one of the characters for me. Clover. A little bit of back story, when I first started watching 7, and Clover was properly introduced in the Dust Minds with Qrow, and the phrase "My semblance is good fortune." came out of his mouth, I instantly hated him, and for 2 main reasons. I knew the shippers were going to go crazy about it, and I just hated the potential connotations that came with it. I don't know about everyone else, but I love good and propper character growth. I was gonna be kinda pissy if they spent a whole volume trying to build Qrow's character up, only to solve his whole character arc by making his depression magically go poof with friendship, and that friend having a semblance to combat his own. Not matter what people want to believe, that's not good character growth. Genuinely sit down and think of the message behind that. It might as well be implying that if you can find that one person who builds you up, all of your problems will go away, and speaking from real life experience, it is not a good idea to have your happiness revolve around a singular person, because you never know when that person can back stab you, or just kick rocks.

What really broke my heart is that it took RT killing him off for me to actually take a deep look at Clover as a character for me to realize that I actually like him as a character, I just hated how they used him for plot device towards Qrow's developement. As much as I now like Clover, I'm glad that RT killed him off, because in the long run, it was better off that way for Qrow's sake, and again, the implications of their friend ship aren't entirely healthy, and is kind of ignorant to how much of an issue things like depression is. That shit doesn't just go away just because a person is introduced into the mix. In part it's also why I don't like Fair Game as a ship, because while cute in concept, it gets boring with a lot of the content that get's produced as it's mostly happy, cute, good times. It lacks in any real complexity because it's all honestly just cookie cutter romance, and it's not really all that fun to take in. In addition to that, the main issues I had mentioned before come into play. The idea that one person is so perfect while the other is fucked up in the head, that the fucked up one is heavily emotionally reliant on the other which is in fact not a healthy relationship for either member, and it would be terrifying to see how Qrow would pull himself together if he's even able to, in a scenario where they were long time romantic partners, and suddenly Clover just up and kicked rocks, or the relationship fell a part. In all honesty, it would potentially just destroy him. In general, I just think the lucky semblance thing was a dumb idea all together. I see why they did it in the grand scheme of things, but it annoyed me.

Then of course there's Robin. Let's be real, her semblance is story wrecking levels of broken. Like come on RT. Lie Detector semblance??? Really??? That is a power no mortal should ever have, and there's so many times that Robin could have broken the whole ass story just with the touch of another person's hand. (And no, just because Harriet didn't take her hand in Vol. 8 doesn't make the semblance concept any less stupid. If anything, it just makes it worse, because it shows that Harriet can't be trusted to act rationally in a situation she should realistically be able to act diplomatically towards. Grief is not an excuse when you're on the job.) I have the same issues with her that I had with Clover, it's that her semblance is damn near unneccessary.

Now to go into Volume 8, but not before giving a genuine criticism towards the whole series of RWBY. Why is it that the majority of the antagonistic characters have tragic back stories. Roman Torchwick was the only one who didn't have that sort of back story, and he wasn't even the main set of antags. Then of course there's Neo, but what good does that actually do when that's exactly what her future drives end up being is the tragic tale of her losing a close friend and associate. With Cinder, they pulled no punches, and oh my god, the song that goes with it. Like my god RT, could you slap the veiwers any harder with your dick obviousness? I hate that they gave easily the 2nd most fucked up character a sob story. It wasn't neccessary. The only good thing about it was when Wattz used her tragic past against her to put her in her place. There's no need to humanize someone who is so driven by hatred like that, as she's done so much fucked up shit to the main cast of characters that most if not all people wouldn't bat an eyelash at her, because it doesn't change her decision to intentionally be sadistic. And while on the topic of a Maiden, let's move to another. Penny. Volume 8 did her dirty. I'm all for bringing a character back, and I'm all for killing off a character for plot purpose, but the two don't fucking mix. Penny's death was redundant and unneccessary. What was the point of giving her a human body if she was just going to die within that same day? What was the point of bringing her back again if she was just going to die? Again? There's two routs RT should have taken. Either they should have killed her vol. 3 and had her stay dead, or she shouldn't have died in vol. 3, continued on as normal, and only then should she have died in vol. 8. Option number 2 is the ladder. I get what RT was trying to do with Penny's death, and I think it was a good concept, but god damn, this is Dragon Ball, we don't need redundant, pointless deaths. At least in vol. 8, there was a purpose behind Penny's death, but in vol. 3, Penny's death was more so unneccessary, and was only used to be a maryr for Ruby's cause. In fairness to them, you can't really expect them to fix what they had done years ago, but with full knowledge that this is what their plot meant they would have to do, they should have reconsidered the handing of their events for either Vol. 8, or both Vol 8 and 7 by removing Penny from it entirely.

Some additional criticisms that don't hold a lot of weight in the over all quality of the show, and more just some missed opportunities. Okay, so remember that whole speil Nora went on about having to find herself before she could be with Ren? Yeeeeeah, so why was it again that Jean had to be the one to fall into the abyss and not Nora or Ren??? Just putting that out there. If Nora and Ren needed to be seperate long enough for Nora to figure herself out, there's no real reason that they couldn't act on this. Because now instead, they're going to have to lean on each other even more so when news comes to them that the majority of their friends just got fucking dusted, and so they'll most likely be grieving together under the pretences that their friends are dead. Speaking of the abyss, fan theory time.

From what we've seen of this abyss that everyone has fallen into, it seems to be a fairly habitable pocket demention. With enough work, a civilization could possibly grow there. Where am I going with this? Well what do we know about Salem? She's a force to be reckoned with who could very potentially kill off the whole world with or without the help of the gods. We also know that she's immortal and cannot be killed. That doesn't however mean she can't be stopped. That's where the pocket demension comes into play. How do you fight off an immortal, blood thirsty, angry ex wife? By taking away everything she has to destroy in her path. You can't cause a mass genocide if there's no one to kill. And so that's where the pocket demension comes into play. What if that's how they stop Salem? By just leaving Remnant behind completely? They could take the staff back, and move all of Remnant's population into this dimension, and start new. In addition to that, they would need to take the staff of creation with them, meaning so much for collecting all four relics to blow up the planet. Now of course, there are some flaws with this theory, mainly in regards to carrying capacity of the area around them, rather or not the area is truly as inhabitable as it appears, and how safe the it actually is to live there. It's just more fodder for thought. What is RT planning with this pocket demension? Why are they so excited about Vol. 9 in regards to this? I'm really interested in how they're going about this, and hopefully the do a good job with it.

Anyways, those are just my thoughts on RWBY so far. Hopefully Vol. 9 does make up for the haphazard ending that was Vol. 8

#rwby spoilers

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hd-wireless · 4 years

Text

📻🎶 H/D Wireless 2020 - Weekly Wrap-up #4

🎤 Can you believe we’ve had four weeks already of amazing creations!! We certainly can’t! We hope you’re enjoying the music and music inspired drarry, and don’t worry, we’ve still got a few more songs to go! 🎶

🎙️ Check out the Playlists:

Youtube

Spotify

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Home Sweet Home (G)

🎵Song prompt: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: In the middle of a Zombie apocalypse Harry made it his main goal to find a safe home for Draco and himself.

📻 Turn back time (T)

🎵 Song prompt: If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher

🎵 Summary: Draco's had a rough few years, if that's what you call falling in with a bad lot, attempted murder and a close brush with death. Now facing the weight of his misdeeds, Draco tries to pinpoint when it all went wrong.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 As Fascinating As a Slap Bracelet (T, 13.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: Have It All - Jason Mraz

🎵 Summary: Who would have thought that a wacky little Muggle toy would lead to an unlikely friendship between Harry and Draco? Not Harry, certainly.

Who would have thought that this friendship would bloom into something more? Well, Ron, for one.

📻 If Sex Is the Drug, Then What Is the Cost (E, 3.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: I Almost Told You That I Loved You - Papa Roach

🎵 Summary: For quite some time, Harry has been seeing Malfoy. Well... Actually, he's hired Malfoy, to keep him company, in his bedroom. It's only sex — honestly — and since Malfoy is the best, he's the only person Harry wants. That's all it is, right?

📻 I Grow Fonder Every Day (M, 21.6k)

🎵 Song prompt: One and Only by Adele

🎵 Summary: Draco still doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, sharing a flat in Muggle London with Harry Potter.

It’s all Draco’s ever wanted — more than he’d ever wished for. And if it entails suppressing his inconvenient feelings for the man, so what? He’s perfectly happy with his life as it is, perfectly content with just having Potter close and enjoying his company.

That is, until one Friday evening at the beginning of April when the end starts.

📻 How Can I Live Without you? (G, 2.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: "So Far Away", by Avenged Sevenfold

🎵 Summary: After Draco's death, Harry wonders how can he live without the one he loves when he's so far away.

📻 Following the Arrow to Your Heart (E, 10.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran

🎵 Summary: After the war, Draco is recruited into the Department of Love (aka Cupid's Arrow). His job is to bring together witches and wizards whose magical signatures are only compatible with each others' (essentially soulmates). As they all learned during training, Cupids are chosen because they do not have soulmates.

Six years later, Draco's convinced himself that he's perfectly fine with not having a soulmate. But his latest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and he's forced to reconsider in light of his old feelings.

📻 cos I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought (T, 6.6k)

🎵 Song prompt: War, by Poets of the Fall

🎵 Summary: Ron and Hermione leave the Horcrux hunt, leaving a hurt Harry behind.

But at least Draco is still there with him.

📻 Madness (M, 10k)

🎵 Song prompt: House of Fun by Madness

🎵 Summary: A desperate search for contraception all around Diagon Alley.

📻 Between Myth and Man (M, 16.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: Why'd you only call me when you're high? - Arctic Monkeys

🎵 Summary: Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

A story about the complexity of choices, repressed desires that come to the surface when we least expect them, and the utter hopelessness of truths built on a foundation of lies.

📻 stay awhile (stay here with me) (T, 3.1k)

🎵 Song prompt: I like me better - Lauv

🎵 Summary: "Then when?" Harry tries again. He's not sure if he really wants to see the photo or if he just wants to keep talking to Malfoy. This Malfoy, who is so different from what he was expecting. In his Muggle jeans and smartly pressed sweater, with an air of vulnerability around him that Harry isn't used to seeing, Malfoy looks approachable in a way he never has before.

Harry stops his fidgeting as Malfoy looks up to meet his eyes. Through the hum of the crowded pub, he has to strain a little to hear him. "Maybe," Malfoy starts, hesitating a little but never breaking eye contact, "one day?"

📻 All it needs is messing it up and stars (G, 5.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Tongue Tied by Faber Drive

🎵 Summary: After the war all the Malfoy's came off with light sentences. Now during 8th year Draco is finally free to be himself and date his crush; Harry Potter. Or at least so he thought..

A letter from his father rips that happiness away.

But maybe in the end it will take just a bit of messing up and some stars to get that happiness back.

📻 I'm gonna let it happen (E, 12.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: Florence + The Machine - Shake it out

🎵 Summary: And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't

So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road

And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope

It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat

'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Looking for heaven, for the devil in me

Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me

📻 I feel it in my bones (M, 6.3)

🎵 Song prompt: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: Harry’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as his heart pounds in his chest. His lungs burn as he pants for air. His legs are screaming in protests as he continues to push them to their limit, forcing himself to run ever faster.

📻 Born in the U.S.A. (M, 9k)

🎵 Song prompt: I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen

🎵 Summary: “You need to come home, Draco.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just have an opportunity for you, and you need to come home to take it.”

When Draco's mother insists he comes home, he drags his feet and convinces his friends to take a road trip.

📻 just tell me when it's alright (E, 23k)

🎵 Song prompt: Teeth, Lady Gaga

🎵 Summary: Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

📻 The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth (T, 19.4k)

🎵 Song prompt: Cupid - Amy Winehouse

🎵 Summary: Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship. (An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”) But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

Thank you to all the creators, commenters and cheerers! You’re the real stars of the show!

#hd wireless #hd wireless 2020 #drarry fest #weekly wrap up #weekly wrap up no 4 #drarry fic #drarry art #can you believe we have had 28 days of hd wireless already i am blown away by all the creations you all have gifted us

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write-it-good-imagines · 4 years

Text

Mine - Jackson Wang

So, @aggrocat121 said “If I could request a Jackson writing with your prompts ! and 25, I’m just a sucker for a jealous Jackson scenario!” and you know what I said? Mood hun, tbvh.

~2k words, fluff, if one squints, one can see the angst but honestly I think it’s just cute ok,

Prompts: 1. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

25: “You’re mine. I don’t share.”

Summary: One would think jealousy only leads to dreadful things; and while it is true, it is also undeniable that, once in a blue moon, jealousy gives birth to even greater things.

It was not a date, per se. You did not phrase it like that. It was more of a meeting between two very close friends. Except you could have dialed anyone else’s phone number and request the presence of anyone else to accompany you in an afternoon shopping session. This meant that, with you explicitly calling him to join you and, subsequently, to spend quality time with you, it was more than just a meeting between two close friends. So Jackson settled for a date; in his mind anyway.

Jackson fantasized about confessing his feelings for you in an incalculable number of ways, his fictional plans leading to the same happy conclusion. Nevertheless, there’s a common saying that, although applicable, Jackson loathed: ‘it was never the right time’. And it truly never was. Not because he was unsure of his feelings, or because he didn’t suspect there was something on your part too, but because he discovered he was too much of a coward to take the reins.

And now he was stuck waiting for you to finish your conversation with an affable man who kept on repeatedly touching your upper arm as he grinned a tad too excessively at your words.

Jackson checked his watch and observed an excruciating five minutes had passed since he had met you outside your favorite shopping center and the only words you bothered to throw his way were a mere request to wait for a little bit, the rest of them undeniably flowing the stranger’s way. And boy, was he getting mad.

After your interminable conversation finally met its end, the man luckily went his way, refraining himself from doing an audacious thing such as hugging you, and Jackson let out a heavy sigh. You turned your body to him and were surprised you weren’t greeted with the usual bear hug and blinding smile.

“Seunie, hello! Sorry about that, it was one of my co-workers.”

Jackson could figure as much. “Yeah, don’t mind. Shall we go?”

You blinked at the coldness of his words. Jackson started walking ahead, neglecting the usual pace he settled for when the two of you would walk together. You lifted a brow but chose to say nothing. He would ordinarily speak his mind on his own whenever something bugged him so you opted to wait for him to find his words.

However, it was a lie to say you were not intimidated by his icy silhouette.

“Thanks for coming. I know you must be busy with everything but I really need to buy some new jeans and office trousers. And we both know you’re more stylish than I am.”

Jackson glanced at you briefly and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. The brown trench coat you wore over a simple white shirt, tugged in the flared jeans and the low-heeled ankle boots were forming a look that Jackson planned on commenting about. Of course, you were beautiful regardless of the clothes you wore but that was positively his favorite look on you. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No need to get all modest now, Wang.” You chuckled and entered the first store for a quick scan. Jackson extended his arm to take your handbag so you could better look around. He kept a small distance from you, fiddling with his phone, giving minimal response to any of the questions you asked.

At first, you thought that he genuinely did not like anything that you showed him so you simply shrugged your shoulders and went on your way to the next store. It was the same irritating process in the next couple of stores you walked in. You’d show him an article of clothing, often picking ones that you truly liked, and he’d either nod his head or say you should buy it if you liked it. Jackson was slowly but surely stepping on your every nerve. If you wanted to randomly purchase something just for the sake of it, you would have sent your brother.

His attitude was peculiar in itself. He had an annoying glimmer in his eyes and a pouty expression that you had never seen on him when he just wanted an ounce of attention. During all those memorable times you spent with Jackson, both good and bad, you fell for every antic he’d do, from jutting out his lower lip in a silent cry for hugs to the serene smile he only offered you when you were around him. It was, still, a bit far-fetched since he was friendly with every breathing creature. This time, his indifference toward you was a harrowing prospect.

As you were browsing through Zara, your eyes fell on some beautiful jeans that you were determined to try on, with or without Jackson’s help.

“Are you coming?” you asked shortly and walked to the fitting rooms without waiting for an actual response. Jackson followed you silently and folded your coat over his forearm, seating himself on an outer chair. It wasn’t long before he noticed the curtain opening.

You were checking for the fitting when you called him over. “Jackson.”

Jackson stood up and walked over to you, almost chocking on thin air at the sight. He had shamelessly examined your curves before, occasionally informing you even, yet your ass looked splendid in that particular pair of jeans. He remembered he was upset, though, and he had to act accordingly.

“These are okay.”

You could feel your eyes rolling out of their respective orbits. You pulled the curtain to change back into your clothes and stormed out by Jackson when you were done to pay for the jeans. You offered a small smile to the employee and offered your credit card; scarcely had you reacted when Jackson took the shopping bag in his hand and walked on ahead with that, along with your coat and handbag. That was the last straw.

“Okay, I am done receiving the silent treatment.” You declared and settled yourself by his side. “Can you please tell me what is going on with you?”

Jackson peeked at you, then turned his face forward. “Nothing.”

“Jackson Wang, I am going to ask this only once before I turn around and go home. What is going on?”

Jackson closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “How long have you known that guy?”

So that was the problem.

You scoffed in amusement. “Who, my colleague? Dang, Jackson, we’ve been working since I joined the company. If I think about it now, he is my senior by a year.”

Jackson did not find what he was looking for in your answer. The air in his lungs evacuated all at once in an excessive sigh. You did not know what to do with that side of Jackson’s. Well, one could always presume, but you didn’t know if he was simply dramatic for the sake of it, or was genuinely bothered. You looked up at him, a small smile plastered on your lips.

“Jackson, we are only friends—“

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

Jackson mirrored your confused expression, although his was sprinkled with a mixture of fear and uneasiness. Your eyes were visibly widened.

“What?”

“I was referring to my colleague, Jackson.”

He clicked his tongue. “Oh.”

You opened your mouth a couple of times, trying to form a coherent sentence, but failed each time. Out of all the things Jackson could have said, his last sentence astonished you. Or more accurately, it shook you down to your core. There was no turning back.

“Wait a second, are you acting like a brat right now because you are jealous?” you mumbled, your eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t believe it.”

Jackson scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I am going to give you a moment to reconsider your answer.”

Jackson turned his body completely to you, moving all the articles to one hand so he could gesture his argument freely. “I don’t like it. How come a random guy out in the street gets to be all mushy-mushy with you?”

You chuckled and folded your arms over his chest. His face was priceless at that moment. “A random guy? I just told you he’s my senior!”

“Oh, so in this modern age all seniors get to run their filthy hands up and down your arm, thinking it comes as a motivational bonus?”

You felt your blood beginning to boil. You were not happy with the mixed signals he was giving you so faithfully, confidently traversing back and forth between platonic friendship and romantic interest, and yet you did not run to him to rub them in his face. “What’s it to you, Jackson? How come you’re suddenly interested in who gets to run their hand up and down my body?”

“You’re mine. I don’t share.”

You would have actually felt the heart skipping a beat in your ribcage had it not been for the veil of anger clouding your senses. You would have also realized you developed a weak spot for that assertive side of Jackson. Especially now as it was exclusively yours. “Oh? Since when?”

He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “Since now.”

Jackson lost no time in cupping your cheek with his free hand and crashing his lips against yours. The air hitched in your throat as he pressed the lingering and otherwise addicting kiss to your lips. You froze in your spot, all the awareness exiting your body at once. He pulled back, his earnest eyes piercing through your soul. You could not remember a single moment when Jackson was that serious.

“I like you, hell, I like you so much that I simply don’t know what to do with myself in your presence. I don’t think there is anyone in this galaxy who adores another person as much as I adore you. You see all these people around here?” Jackson stopped succinctly to gesture to the crowded corridors of the mall.

“Jackson, I don’t know what--”

“I know you must think I am exaggerating, or that I am crazy, or that I am a mess and God knows I truly am a mess, but trust me when I say there’s no one alive who can take care of you the way I can. I am horrified to lay a single finger on your beautiful skin, so who are they to think they even deserve such a blessing?”

There was no tremble in his voice, no hesitation in his eyes, not any snippet of insecurity in the words he spoke. To say you were petrified was an understatement. At least your blazing cheeks hinted you were alive.

“That and your ass looks majestic in those new jeans.”

Jackson lowered his hand to pat your ass playfully. He then straightened his body and cleared his throat, still studying your features carefully. A sly smirk was sketched on his lips as soon as he noticed your bright complexion and turned happily to skip away.

“Hey, Wang Jackson!” he heard you calling out his name and snickered to himself, wiggling his fingers at you. You were in a conspicuous state of denial as you dashed over to him. “Did you just brazenly flirt with me?”

Jackson intertwined his fingers with yours effortlessly. “Have been for the past century, but thanks for noticing.”

“No, no.” you shook your head and your now tangled hands. “Did you just confess to me?”

Jackson opted to wink at you, taking advantage of your perplexed stance. Out of all the countless scenarios he outlined in his mind, he had to admit that, with a little bit of outside help, that was probably the best existing way to break it to you. With much-desired success, too.

“So what if I did? You have yet to give me an answer.”

You had had enough of his smug expression. Without letting go of his hand, you pulled him by the collar with your other one and returned the favor by attaching your lips to his in a heartbeat. He smiled into the kiss and you figured he got the message. That was until he slid his hand out of yours and into the back pocket of your jeans and gave your butt a light squeeze.

“What are you doing right now?” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I have to assert dominance.”

You burst out in laughter and decided to play along. You also stuffed your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “What an eloquent way to say you just needed and excuse to grab my ass in public.”

Jackson let out one of his irresistible laughs and leaned over to you to peck your cheek. It was more comfortable than he thought it would be, walking like that. “Don’t act like you’re any better, Y/n.”

#got7 #got7 imagine #got7 imagines #got7 jackson #got7 jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang #fluff #someone stop me from fantasizing about this man pls #i've had enough of my heart shattering for one day #got7 request

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