#People give him flowers and take photos and shit and they all celebrate their pride for their country together

[islandiis]

[Right now Fannar has red, white and blue paint streaked clumsily across his cheeks - courtesy of one of the many children out enjoying the celebrations in town - and he's got a bunch of flowers in one arm, too. And he just looks so happy, positively beaming with pride.]

Gleðilega Þjóðhátíð!! Til hamingju með daginn!

[harrystyleseditsx]

If you need me

SUMMARY: A one shot of where y/n experiences something that reminds her of her traumatic past and Harry’s 5000 miles away

based on the song If you need by julia micheals

WARNING: Angst with fluff :) 

pairing: Harry Styles x uni y/n 

wordcount: 2.3k

A/N: Welcome to my first fic, I needed to write something to get in the flow to write my 2000 word story so here it is :)) ily guys <3 (also would you prefer y/n or an oc, please let me know!!)

Y/N was very happy about how her morning had been going.

She had woken up early, worked out and made her favorite breakfast. She had also gotten herself some flowers to celebrate the fact that she had submitted her 10 page essay early. The only thing that would make her morning better would be face timing harry but she knew it was 1 pm here meaning it would be 9 pm in London where Harry was and he had a concert to perform. She threw on one of Harry’s treat people with kindness hoodies over her sundress as she headed to the library that would often get chilly or she was just always cold as harry often teased her. She smiled as she remembered harry telling she would overheat if she continued to wear zip ups and pile blankets on herself even during summers. 

She had by now almost reached the library when she suddenly bumped into someone causing the other person to drop some of their stuff. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I should have paid more attention-” it felt as if the words were stuck in her throat as she glanced at who she bumped into. 

“Oh hi Y/N” Asher taunted, her ex. She hadn’t seen him since the break up when he told her that he needed space and took off to France only to send her the infamous break up text. And, here he was 6 months later, looking the every bit same. She felt a feeling of anxiety creeping up on her as she started playing with her fingers trying to stop when she saw Asher’s eyes drop to her hands. 

“Are you nervous y/n? Always played with your fingers when you were” he said with a hint of smugness, as he reached his hand forward trying to grasp hers. She immediately pulled back, crossing them against her chest as she took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here Asher? Aren’t you supposed to be in France?” she snapped at him, her nervousness quickly turning into anger. Asher raised an eyebrow as if surprised at her response. 

“Been keeping tabs on me?” he smirked. “Well forgive me if I wanted to know where my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend ran off too on our 1 year anniversary” she scoffed.

“Finally grew a backbone y/n?” he drawled looking her up and down. Y/N had never felt the urge to pull someone’s eyeballs out more than she did now. She found herself thinking what she ever saw in this piece of shit. She snapped back to reality as she heard him droning about something.

“..you need me, so I’ll take you back-” he was in interrupted as y/n threw her head back laughing. When she looked at him again, he had an annoyed look on his face. “I need you? Well, I’d like to inform you that you’re wrong again. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone. I managed myself when you left and I’m doing so now too. So, you can see yourself out of my life again” she reiterated. Asher now looked furious, he lunged forward and grabbed her by her wrists as she tried to free herself from his grip.

“Is all this attitude because of her famous singer boyfriend? Yes, I know all about him. Is he telling you that you’re beautiful? or that you’re important? because news flash, you’re not y/n. You’re worthless, stupid, ugly and you’ll be nothing without me. You’re a whore” he growled. Y/N felt herself flinch as she heard his words before she composed herself and kicked him in the balls. His grip on her wrists loosened giving her the perfect opportunity to attack. She grabbed him by the back of his neck and jerked it forward, raising her knee and smashed his face against it and then shoved him backwards. She heard Asher yelp in pain as blood gushed out of his. One of his hands was on his dick while other on his nose. She felt a sense of pride and satisfaction rush through her as she looked at him. 

"You bitch, you broke my nose. You'll pay for this" Asher yelled at her. She decided it was best to kick him one more time for good measure and she did, smiling as he groaned in pain. "No, you listen to me. If you ever come near me again or try to hurt me I will fuck up your life and I'll get my famous singer boyfriend to help too" y/n taunted as she turned out to head back to her apartment, she had never been more glad to have her apartment be a 5 minute walk from campus. The whole incident had taken a huge toll on her.

She locked her room as soon as she entered it, leaning against the door as she slowly sank to the floor. She took a deep breath before the sobs broke out. Her entire body was shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself trying to feel as if she wasn't alone in the world. Y/N picked up her phone to send a text to harry but she try made her feel even more shitty. What if he realized she wasn't worth it, what if he had enough of her breakdowns. She pressed her nails into her palm, hitting herself to try to stop herself from feeling too much. She had come so far and now all it took was one interaction for everything to come crumbling down.

//

She didn't know how long she had been sitting like that but her phone rang, she looked at the clock to see it flashing 5 pm. Realizing that it must be harry on the phone, she got up and rushed to the bathroom, quickly washing her face, she laid down on the bed so he could only see half of her face and then accepted his call.

Harry appeared on the screen all smiley and sweaty. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. All she wanted to do was hug him. "Finally picked up, huh? I thought y'were gonna leave me hangin' lovie" he teased her. "I'm sorry, my phone was on silent" she said softly.

Harry realised the change in her demeanor, his smile turning into a frown. "Y'alright honey? Not even showin' me y'pretty face" he said to her. She tried to smile as she moved the camera a bit so he could see more of her face. "I'm just tired H" she whispered. Harry had been moving around, probably trying to find a quieter area. He shut the door behind him as he entered what looked like his dressing room.

"Have y'been cryin' y/n?" he questioned as he saw her red nose and faint traces of year marks on her cheeks. y/n knew there was no point in lying because it was pretty obvious. "Yeah, I didn't do very well in one of the assignments my economics professor had assigned but I'm fine now" she told him adding a smile in the end to make it more believable and maybe Harry would have believed her had he not caught a glimpse of the nasty bruise on wrist as the sleeve of her (his) hoodie slipped down when she was pulled the hood up. Harry was furious and the visible anger on his face made y/n want to curl up.

"What the fuck is that y/n?" he questioned furiously. "What are you talking about? "y/n replied looking genuinely confused. "The fucking bruise on your wrist” harry snapped, by now he had lost all his patience. No one gets to hurt his lovie. 

Y/N was at a loss, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to worry about her but she couldn’t come up with anything to say. “Asher came back, he cornered me and when I tried to go, he grabbed my wrists” she mumbled, playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. She dare not glance his way, afraid of his reaction. After a minute of silence, Y/N glanced at her phone only to find the screen to be blank. Had he hung up on her? She stared at the blank screen of her phone in disbelief. She felt as if she was having an out of body experience. Opening her gallery, she started scrolling through the numerous photos and videos of her and harry. It was at this time that she was grateful with her obsession of taking pictures and photos. A few tears escaped her eyes as she realized how much she missed him and how he probably didn’t want to talk to her ever. Was he going to break up with her? Y/N’s heart clenched at that thought, she put on harry’s playlist on her spotify and laid there. 

//

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sound of pots clanging. Her heart sped up, no one besides her and harry had the key to her apartment and harry wouldn’t- 

She threw the blanket covering her aside (which had not been there before) and rushed to the kitchen. And sure enough there he was, her boyfriend, with his back facing her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, he came here for her. Harry  turned around to see her standing in the entryway of the kitchen, crying. He reached her in three quick strides, pulling her in a hug. She tightly wrapped her arms around him, fearing he might disappear. Harry pulled back after a few minutes, cupping her face in his hands he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. 

“Gonna properly tell m’what happened now bubs?” he urged. Unable to say anything at that moment Y/N just nodded. Grabbing her hand, Harry led her to the sofa, grabbing her by the waist and seating her on his lap. He patiently waited her to start talking. For a while Y/n just played with his hair, then she took a deep breath and told him everything that happened. She could feel Harry’s grip tightening on her hips, not to the extent that it was painful, when she told him what Asher had said to her. 

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill him” Harry cursed when she had finished. “I already did some damage” Y/N told him, smirking as she remembered Asher’s face. Harry looked at her questioningly, “I might have kicked him in the balls and broken his nose and added another kick for good measure” she admitted. Harry grinned, “that’s m’girl” he said proudly, pulling her in for a kiss. They sat like that for a while with Harry telling her about tour and she filled him in with other things that she had forgotten when they had their facetime sessions.

Y/N told him that she wanted to report Asher, in case he ever tried to pull shit like this again. Harry not only told her but also showed her how proud he was of her, how brave she’d been and how much he loved her in multiple ways. 

//

The next day they headed to the dean’s office, where Y/N saw two officers sitting outside. Luckily there were several camera’s in the hallway where Asher had cornered Y/N, so by noon, with all the available proof, she’d gotten a restraining order against Asher. If her were to come within a distance of 6ft with her, he’d serve jail time. As they left the dean’s office, Y/N saw Asher standing , she could feel harry tensing up, so when Asher looked Y/N up and down and smirked, Harry lunged forward punching him in his already swollen nose. Asher yelped in pain, he tried to fight Harry back but by now the officers had restrained him, taking him away. 

Back at the apartment, Y/N tended to Harry’s bruised knuckles as she felt a hollowness knowing he’d be leaving soon. By the look on her face, Harry knew what she was thinking about, he took the cotton swab from her hands, placing it on the table before he kissed her. 

“I’ll be back soon, it’s only a matter of two months now and by then you’ll  graduate and I’ll be done with tour and we can  have everyday to ourselves” harry told her, wiggling his eyebrows. She lightly smacked his chest, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “I know, It’s just that sometimes I miss you” she commented. “Only sometimes?” Harry pretended to be offended, “Well a bit more than sometimes” she retorted. “Just a bit more? I miss you so much, it hurts” he admitted. Her shoulders slumped a bit as she pulled him in a hug. “I love you Harry” she whispered and heard him softly whisper I love you too sweetheart. 

That evening Y/n drove him to the airport, they knew they couldn’t outside for long so Harry pulled her in a kiss before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Promise me you’ll tell me anything that happens, I don’t care if it’s just a paper cut or not. Just don’t hide things from me, If when you need me I'll be there" he blurted. “I promise” she said firmly, showing him she was serious. She didn’t want him to worry but he’d eventually know something was up and it was better to sort things out. He kissed her again before he went in the airport. She stood there until he was no longer in her sight before she sat in her car and started driving off. 

Her phone chimed, picking it up she saw that Harry had sent her a image. It was a very poorly drawn graphic of a guy lying on the floor with a crooked nose and blood around him that she assumed was Asher and a girl stood over him wearing a superhero cape. He had written, ‘my hero’. She smiled fondly before sending him a picture of her reaction as she increased the volume of her radio and driving off. Soon. 

. 

This is my first time writing a harry fic/blurb. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, I’ve turned on the asks (I didn’t know they were off) so you can send in your requests!! Thank you :))

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 15.5 OR Chapter 16

➜ Words: 5.6k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

“The work you do going forward will not only affect you, but the lives of the people all around you. From your law partners to your clients…” The speaker at the front drones and on and on, his voice booming around the grandiose courtroom. You imagine a wedding ceremony could take place here or a nationwide criminal court case that you often see in the movies.    Jungkook is sitting dead center in the crowd of other articling students, wearing gorgeous black silk robes with a white shirt underneath it. “The most important advice I can gift to you today is to enjoy the journey and not just the destination. You will find in your life that often times—”   His parents are sitting in the front rows, beaming with pride while his older brother is snapping a million photos with his giant Canon camera, embarrassing Jungkook and making him all the more bashful. The entire firm is sitting behind them, watching and proud that the little student was finally being called to the bar.   The judge speaks quietly, calm and composed as he delivers a few jokes here and there while making his own inspirational speech. You listen in before leaning over to Hoseok and lowly whispering, “Is there something on my face?”   “No.” His brows furrow and he takes a glance at you. “Why?”   “I don’t know. You’re the one who keeps looking at me,” you murmur at a barely coherent volume. “Is there something wrong?”   Hoseok sits straight, leaning back on the hard bench and scanning the premise to see if anyone has noticed. “No, no. It’s fine.” The lawyer brushes you off and you have no choice, but to disregard it like it was part of your imagination.   The ceremony continues and everyone watches until the kids stand up together, turning towards the woman who reads the official oath from the open book. Her hand is held in the air and as she reads line by line, the crowd of almost-lawyers repeating after her, being sworn in as they promise to uphold the dignity of the law to the best of their abilities.   As it ends, there’s a massive round of applause and you see Jungkook emerging from the horde to land in his mother’s arms, hugging the older woman while she tells him how proud she is. It’s an endearing sight, especially when his dad gives him a bouquet of flowers to congratulate him and he has tears in his eyes which his brother makes fun of.   “Congratulations, Kook!” Jimin takes five strides outside of the building, walking against the flow of people leaving to smother Jungkook in a hug, even when the younger is larger in built.   “I can’t believe our little Jungkook has finally made it!” Sunyi smiles softly, catching the eye of a few other older lawyers who pass by. She’s wearing a bright yellow sundress that is reminiscent of sunflowers, having gone to a garden party with her grandma before rushing over here and making it on time. Yoongi seems to notice the prying eyes of strangers and stands in the way, blocking her from other people being able to ogle.   “I’m so proud!” Taehyung declares in the meanwhile, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffling dramatically. “I feel like a father who just watched his son grow up.”   Jungkook laughs, his nose scrunched and his cute bunny teeth showing in his grin. “You’re not my dad.”   “Does this mean we can give him the Yoo case file?” Yoongi suggests in a light voice, lifting his volume to be louder than the noise coming from the different crowds.   “I hope you’re ready, Jungkook.” Naul grips the strap of her bag, closed toe heels stepping together. “You’re going to be in court on Monday by yourself arguing for our client.”   Immediately, the boy’s smile falls. His doe eyes widen as large as saucers, features contorting into blatant fear. Jimin nearly falls onto his knees in laughter. “Give him a break! He’ll go on Tuesday.”   But that still does little to comfort the new lawyer. “T-T-...Tuesday?”   “Don’t tease the poor kid!” You step in with a laugh, saving the day before he can have a mental breakdown. “Come on, we can talk about this later. We should get back to the office.”   “Everyone, listen to Y/N. She’s the boss now.” Jimin announces with a smile and the entire firm walks off not to crowd up the entrance and block people from exiting. Jungkook’s parents and brother join as well, but you shift around slightly when you notice that he and Hoseok linger.   “Good job, Jungkook.” Hoseok wraps his arms around the younger’s shoulder, hugging and squeezing him while swaying side to the side.   The boy blinks a few times before melting into a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”   Hoseok plants a fat kiss on his head, on top of his hair, and Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise, moving back to avoid further smooches. Hoseok laughs and you smile before turning away.   //   The party is rather modest and much less chaotic than the end-of-the-year holiday celebration, but there’s still catering and everyone is able to get a nice lunch. Music plays in the back while people mingle together, but the main attraction seems to be the slideshow of Jungkook from when he was a baby until now. You’re glad Jimin insisted on making it and that you contracted his parents to find the photos. It warms your heart and he’s downright adorable. You feel proud that he came such a long way.   “You were so cute as a toddler.”   He’s shy and flustered, scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.”   “I was going to get you a bouquet of flowers too, but I didn’t know what you would do with them.”   “It’s okay. All of this is more than enough.”   “At least let me treat you to a meal some time, okay?” you insist, feeling way too guilty when it seemed like everyone else had some sort of present for him. “It’s my way of saying congratulations.”   Jungkook nods with a bright grin. “Okay.”   It doesn’t take a single second later before Lisa is shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Oh my god!” The both of you whirl your heads over to find the slideshow beginning Jungkook’s puberty years and his face drains of colour all at once. Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Seulgi all burst out into laughter, unable to contain themselves.   “Look at how cute he is!” His mother coos at the photos, a sense of nostalgia overwhelming the older woman.   “Mom! Oh my god. How do we turn this off?!” He groans, walking over and trying to do damage control. But more pictures of Jungkook’s fourteen year old self dressed as Goku and other various characters from Dragon Ball Z comes up.   “This was ingenious.” Hoseok approaches with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of nonalcoholic champagne. He stands side by side with you, looking straight ahead at the projected screen.   “Thanks. It was Jimin’s idea though.”   “Still a good job on your part.” He steals a glance, but never looks you in the eye. “Jimin has a thousand ideas every day. Doesn’t mean they can all be executed.”   “Mhmm…” you hum a note, watching everyone chatting. Jungkook is still the center of attention and scrambling to save face in front of his colleagues and superiors. It’s loud and noisy all around you, but between you and Hoseok, it’s quiet. “You know….you don’t have to tiptoe around me.”   He turns to look at you in surprise and you smile, using his own words against him. “I’m not.”   “You seem uncomfortable. If it’s something I did, then let me know so I can fix it. You don’t suit being nervous and unconfident.”   There’s a beat of silence before he’s scoffing with a laugh. “You didn’t do anything,” he lies easily. “It’s because of work. Things are beginning to pick up and soon enough, we’re going to be busy around here.”   “If it’s stress then you can always come talk to me if you want.” You nudge him playfully. “There are a ton of stress relieving methods I know about and I might be able to give you a stress ball or two. But you should hurry. I have reason to suspect that Jin’s going to claim all of them soon.”   Hoseok laughs. “I’ll pass.”   “Your call.” You shrug. “You’re the one who hired me, so you should use me to your full advantage.”   “If I used you to your full advantage, you wouldn’t last a single day.” There’s a streak of mischief that glimmers in his eyes.   Now you’re the one scoffing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” And to your dismay, the lawyer only shrugs and giggles again. It’s nice to see him relaxed and at ease, able to joke around with you and look you in your eyes. Things have returned back to normal…..at least temporarily.   //   Although you have no clue what is a lie and what is a truth when it comes from his lips, Hoseok isn’t wrong when he told you that things were about to become busy….because things become hectic and out of control. If the phrase ‘shit hits the fan’ could be personified, you suppose this is what it would look like.   “Namjoon, Namjoon.” Yoongi’s walking with his briefcase and coat in tow, a quick pace that the poor legal assistant can barely keep up with. “I need you to come with me. Bring me Mr. Ji’s case file.”   “Okay.” The male’s glasses nearly fall off his face with how quickly he whips himself to the left, grabbing his jacket and belongings.   “We’re meeting with his wife’s attorney. Apparently he took the kids with him and she wants to press kidnapping charges.” The both of them run out of the office like their pants are on fire.   In the meanwhile, on the other side of the floor, Seulgi and tech-savvy Dahyun are on the carpet trying to fix the copier. The photocopier jammed an hour ago while the other copier is failing to connect to any computer whatsoever. It’s an outright disaster with Inyoung taking Dahyun’s place at reception, catching up on all the phone calls, technicians being contacted to fix the machines. Seokjin left to the courthouse to print the necessary documents needed for later files.   At least Taehyung and Jungkook managed to escape the madness that was spiralling wildly. They drove to the next city over, dealing with a case at a different courthouse. Naul is also meeting with a client somewhere outside the office. It leaves only a few of you left at the actual firm, notably Jimin and Sunyi who are in the middle of mediation in the conference room. Half an hour ago, the wife came in and angrily demanded that things be resolved today. The appointment was pushed up, the soon-to-be-ex husband dragged in, and it ruined the schedule completely.   You feel useless. There’s nothing you can do to help. Legal professional privilege doesn’t allow you to assist in matters between a client and a lawyer, and when you tried to help fix the photocopier, you dragged them down with your confusion. You’d bask in the simpleness of your job if it wasn’t for the way guilt worms its way beneath your skin.   The phone rings suddenly and it snaps you out of your trance. Inyoung is on the other line, sounding a little more nervous than usual. “Ummm...Y/N...have you seen Hoseok?”   “No, I haven’t. Did you try calling his cell?”   “He’s not picking up. I didn’t see him exit either.”   “Is there something wrong?”   “No, there’s someone here to see him, that’s all. But I’ll tell her to wait.”   “Okay. Tell me if you need help with anything.”   “Alright.”   You resume working on the staff handbook, completed three quarters way through. You’re finally finished the section about discipline policies and about to begin writing about rules regarding company equipment and computers. But as you stand to stretch your legs and make your way to the kitchen for a coffee refill, on the way there, you run into someone in the waiting area.   “Wendy?”   “Oh! Y/N!” The beautiful woman with her light pink blouse and black pencil skirt stands with a smile. She fixes her honey coloured hair to drape her backside. “It’s been a while!”   “Yeah, it’s been a long time.” You linger for an awkward moment, not sure what to do before you motion down the hall. “Would you like to come into my office instead of waiting out here?”   “Sure.” She grabs her bag and follows your lead.   “I’m sorry. We don’t know where Hoseok is at the moment, but we should be able to reach him soon.”   “It’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do. I’m actually quite free these days and it’s nice to be around other people. Less lonely that way.” As she walks down the corridor, her brown eyes does a sweep of the premise. “You guys must be busy around here.”   “Yeah, it’s been a bit hectic this week.”   “I’m glad Hoseok’s business is doing well.” She has a soft smile while entering your office. “This is so cute!”   “It’s nothing much.” You’re embarrassed at your poor excuse of an office. There are lame posters on the wall, tiny plants at the window sill, but it’s still a closet no matter how hard you try to make it better. “Just making do with what I have.”   “No, it’s cozy.” She takes a seat from across your desk. “Trust me, I once had a massive office and just useless furniture. Made me feel worse since it was so empty and lonely.” Wendy sighs, “I’m so glad it’s over.”   “Over?”   “I’m selling my office and the entire firm actually.” She leans back in the comfortable armchair with her arms crossed. “I owned the firm with my husband, built that business from the ground up. We were partners, but now that we’re getting that divorce, we’re liquidating it all and splitting the money.”   “It’s funny, huh? How you can invest yourself and your future so much into another person, but something just happens and all your plans get ruined.” It’s like a pressurized geyser has exploded the minute you took off the lid and she spills all the beans of her life. “Well...I’m just happy to get away.”   “That’s good then.” You’re not so sure if you should be hearing all this, such private matters that are usually kept hidden from you, but Wendy tells you casually like she doesn’t mind, like she’s reading from the Sunday paper, like you’re a friend.   “You’re giving me that look.”   “What look?”   “That fearful look that tells me you’re scared.” The corner of her red lipstick-stained lips tugs upwards and she flicks a piece of dirt from underneath her fingernail before bringing her attention back to you. “Don’t worry. Not all marriages end like mine. Some end worse. Some end better. A lot don’t end at all.”   Without taking a breath she continues, “They always tell you not to shit where you eat...if that man,” she spits the word out with disdain, “and I were not partners, it probably would’ve made this a lot easier. I would still have a job at least. But you know, my seventeen years of marriage was great. The three after that were alright and then the last two were horrible. If you were to ask me if I would do it all over again….maybe. For seventeen years, I had everything I could’ve wanted, a partner, a husband, a companion.”   A wistful sigh leaves the seams of her mouth and she gestures with her hand tiredly. “I think I’m rambling, but I don’t want to scare you off.”   “What do you mean?” you ask, not sure what she’s implying.   There’s a chance that she doesn’t hear your question and a chance that she straight out ignores you. She never once clarifies herself. Instead, Wendy switches the topic of conversation. “How’s Hoseok?”   “Hoseok? Y-yeah...he’s doing fine. Busy.”   The fifty-one year old lawyer who appears stunningly twenty-five reaches out and takes the stress ball on your desk that looks like Earth. She squeezes and watches it come back to life, relaxing in the chair and fiddling with the toy. “That boy is always busy. He’s very passionate about his work. But outside of it, I swear to god, he’s a clown.”   You burst out laughing. “I would say he’s more like a cheerleader.”   “Yes.” The woman snaps her fingers. “That kid has a handful of good traits, encouraging, cheerful, but his energy can be downright burdensome. Not only that, but he is so meticulous and I’ve seen him run this office enough to know he secretly enjoys tormenting his employees.” Hoseok’s former mentor laughs again and shakes her head. “He keeps your hands full without you even realizing.”   “No one really knows that side of him around here.” You take a brief glance outside of your office door. “Everyone is either scared, intimidated, or they just don’t like him. He thinks being respected and being loved are mutually exclusive.” The timbre of your voice drops down into a whisper. “It makes me sad.”   “But he seems brighter these days,” the woman from across your desk points out while watching you carefully.   “Does he?”   You hope so. Sometimes you worry that he feels too alone. You know that Hoseok is completely aware of the rumours about him and how people actively avoid him. And he doesn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so he leaves this office later or earlier to avoid taking the elevator with his employees. He doesn’t speak freely to people who aren’t Jimin and Yoongi. He eats lunch by himself in the office, pretending he’s too busy to join everyone else. He rarely displays his affection, rarely shows no restraint. He focuses too much on being firm and professional. He doesn’t mind being labeled at the mean and angry one. And it makes you sad.   Jung Hoseok makes you worry too much.   “Yeah.” Wendy’s gaze softens. “And I think it’s because of you.”   “Me?”   “Hoseok is very careful with the people in his life. Despite his good nature, he’s a man of serious commitment and loyalty. I know that much.” She nods as further confirmation of her convictions. “And I can tell that the two of you are very close.”   “We...we aren’t that close,” you deny. “It’s just that we used to go to school together, that’s all.”   But the female’s perception is too sharp for you to fool. “I think you’re underplaying the truth here.” Another smile appears on her visage. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting you care about another human being.”   “I just….” You don’t know how to explain yourself, how to reveal a past that cannot be spelled out in mere words. “We tried. A long time ago. We tried to be something more. And it didn’t work out. At all.”   She hums, setting down the stress ball and looking straight at you. “I think sometimes things aren’t meant to work out...but that doesn’t make the time spent together any less meaningful. Sometimes and only sometimes...I think there are things in the world that are worth trying over and over again.”   Your mouth opens, but before something more can be said, someone else appears at the door. He’s panting a few breaths, black hair made amok, suit slightly wrinkled like he jogged here. “I was in the bathroom.”   “There you are!” Wendy lifts herself from her seat and gives a quick hug to the lawyer.   “Sorry for making you wait.”   “No, I was having a nice chat with Miss. Y/N here. Very pleasant girl.”   “Alright…?” Hoseok glances at you, a bit amused and skeptical. Then he looks at his former mentor and now client. “Should we get going?”   “Of course.” Wendy turns to you. “I’ll speak to you some time, Y/N.”   You smile at her. “My door’s always open.”   //   The woman muses how much darker Hoseok’s office is compared to yours. While he has more space and a much larger window, there are blinds pulled a quarter way down and his furniture is a lot darker, mahogany wood or polished black surfaces, a modern aesthetic. In contrast, your tiny space feels like a sunroom, a lighter colour scheme with plenty of sunshine that makes it a lot more breathable. It’s certainly interesting to compare your spaces and tastes, and how they could potentially complement each other well and strike a good balance.   Hoseok is preoccupied flipping through stacks of papers, writing things down. On the other hand, Wendy is sitting across from his desk, legs crossed over one another, bored.   “That girl is sweet.” There’s silence and she fiddles with the zipper of her expensive purse. “She’s very earnest, I can tell. Her heart’s in the right place.”   “She’s naive and trusts too easily,” he mumbles from the corner of his mouth.   “That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she points out. “I heard you used to know each other back then.”   “Uh-huh.”   “You dated?”   Hoseok finally lifts his head, meeting her eyes. “She told you that?”   “She said it didn’t end up working out.”   “Oh.”   “Do you love her?”   “What?” Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, getting whiplash at how she went in for the kill without beating around the bush. He scoffs and barks out a laugh, returning to his paperwork. “Don’t be ridiculous. Y/N is my employee.”   “It’s not illegal.”   “It’s unethical.”   “She technically doesn’t even work under you or take orders from you,” Wendy says in a curt tone, never one to back down when she knows she’s right. “She runs her own department and does her own thing. I don’t see any problem in it.”   “Can we please stop talking about my business and get back to yours?”   “I’m always talking about my issues and problems. It gets boring when you have to constantly discuss the doom of your love life, alright, kid?”   Hoseok ignores her and clasps his hands together on top of his desk. “So you really decided to liquidate the firm? I thought you were planning to split it.”   “No. We agreed to just sell. There would be too many problems with figuring out who gets what client and which employee we would take with us. It’s better and faster to do it this way. Plus, I don’t think I have an interest in pursuing law anymore.”   “What?” He frowns, jaw becoming slack. “What are you planning to do then?”   “Travel. See the world. Maybe write a book.” Wendy shrugs. “Do all the things I couldn’t do when I was married and working full-time.”   “But will you ever return to practicing law?”   “Probably not. I’m at the age where I can retire early and have enough money to last the rest of my life.”   Hoseok shakes his head, reeling from unadulterated shock. Wendy is a great lawyer, a role model, someone he looked up to, and he can’t understand why she’s throwing it all away. “I just don’t…”   “Get it? Yeah...sometimes I wonder how this all happened.”   “Just…” Hoseok sets his pen down and looks at her. The woman has always looked younger than her actual age, an impressive feat created from hard efforts, genetics, and expensive creams. While many people, men and women alike, have been impressed with how well she takes care of herself, Hoseok never cared much for it. But right now, up close, he can see her wrinkles and the deep set marks of age, exhaustion, how life has taken its toll on her. She looks more tired in the past year than she has her entire life. “Where did things go wrong?”   But at the same time, she appears wiser.   “You know, Hoseok—” Wendy’s legs uncross and she sits straighter. “—I loved Mark very much. I know he was your mentor too and you respected him greatly. You were around us when our marriage was at its highest points, so I understand why you’re surprised when I first came to you about this.”   He can’t hide how hurt he is anymore. It was never his marriage, but they always symbolized his hope. “You were both so in love. I could’ve never expected…”   “This outcome? For us to think it’s easier to just end things? Yeah...” She smiles meekly and gently whispers, “me either. But it happens and it’s okay. We both just fell out of love. We both fought. We lied. We cheated on each other. We merely tolerated one another. It was ugly. And I hated myself.”   He’s heard the same story a million times over. No one ever gets into a relationship believing they’ll break up or get a divorce. It’s unplanned. In every single case he’s worked on, every story he’s read, there were always the high moments. There was always love at some point. There was always happiness. It’s just that no one ever expects for it to crash and burn and become so hideous.   Happiness. Family. Children. Love. Anger. Infidelity. Abuse. Deceit. It happens all with the same people. There are years spent sharing bedrooms, falling in love, creating families, raising kids. And there are years drawn out screaming across the courthouse, cursing each other to death, grabbing any assets, letting pettiness get the better of logic, trying to win as if it’s some kind of game.   “I think being a divorce lawyer has made you jaded, Hoseok,” Wendy comments.   “How could it not?”   “You’re right. It doesn’t always work out, but sometimes it does. And I think the feeling of love, of companionship, is completely worth the risk.”   His mouth lifts into a timid smile. “Since when did you become such a hopeless romantic?”   “Since I saw you and that girl together.”   Hoseok scoffs yet again, brushing her answer off. “You’ve seen us twice together. That’s it.”   “And that’s all I need to see,” Wendy snaps back, unyielding. “If you’re a good mentee then you would just listen to what I have to say. I’ll tell you the same thing I said to her — just because things don’t work out, doesn’t mean the time spent together is meaningless, and sometimes it’s worth trying things over again.”   She stares straight into his eyes, dead center like his pupils are the bullseye of a target. “You will learn from other people’s mistakes, from my mistakes, and you will face what you want rather than running away.”   “Just because you see love fail every single day, doesn’t mean yours will fail too, Jung Hoseok.”   //   The rest of the day simmers down at a better pace. Taehyung and Jungkook return earlier than expected and help Jimin and Sunyi catch up on their schedule that they were behind on. Naul and Seokjin are in good condition while Yoongi and Namjoon call to let everyone know the problems have been resolved.   The copier gets fixed miraculously and Dahyun returns to the phones and Inyoung goes back to her position as well. But by then, the work day is over and everyone bids each other goodbye. You stay a few minutes later, finishing typing up the paragraph for the day before grabbing your belongings and your coat.   You’re about to leave, but you notice Hoseok’s office door is closed with the lights still on. Wendy had left hours ago and the receptionists are gone. He’s not having a meeting with anyone, and it’s this relentless curiosity that causes you to knock on his door three times.   Your knuckles rap on the surface of the wood. But with no sound responding, you carefully crack the door open. The sight of Hoseok’s mouth wide open greets you. His head is knocked back, neck on his chair, slumped, and snoozing away.   You smile, approaching with three strides and calling him quietly. “Hoseok...Hoseok?” Your hand lifts to gently shake his arm. “Hoseok.”   “Hhm? W-what?” He slowly blinks awake, sitting up again and looking around as if he forgot where he was. “What...what happened?”   “You fell asleep. It’s time to go home.”   He stretches his arms up in the air and yawns, glancing at you and becoming embarrassed. Hoseok puts on his coat slowly, arms pulling through the sleeves, and you wait for him. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”   “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” There’s a cheeky grin on your face. “I know things have been hectic around here, so it’s okay if the boss gets a little nap time.”   Hoseok scoffs lightly and turns to look at you. You’re ready for this cue to leave this office, but when he simply stares, you’re forced at a standstill, feet rooted in the ground, swallowing hard as your heart rate begins to pick up speed. “Y/N, can I ask you a question?”   Your head tips. “Sure. What is it?”   “I know this is inappropriate and unethical. It might be deemed as sexual harassment too. I don’t want to impose on you in any way. Just tell me if you’re uncomfortable and we can pretend this never happened—”   “What is it?” you interrupt, unable to contain your amusement when he’s acting so oddly frantic.   “Can I...can I have..a hug?”   There’s a pause before you answer.   “Okay.” A slow grin spreads across his face, giving him permission by opening your arms up and motioning him over. When Hoseok stays hesitant, you take a step closer and casually wrap your arms around him. He embraces you back after a delayed moment and it goes quiet.   “I’m sorry.”   “For what?”   “I’m your boss. I shouldn’t be doing this.”   “It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just a hug. I thought it was something much worse.” You giggle quietly, trying to ease his tense muscles that seem to be shriveling up in your embrace. “Did you know hugs can be part of stress relief? I’m just doing my job.”   Hoseok smiles, reminding you of the sun as he leans down, pulling you closer to accommodate for the slight height difference. “This is definitely not part of your job description.”   “I like giving out hugs, so I definitely wouldn’t mind if it was.”   “You’re beginning to sound like Jimin.”   “Why didn’t you ask him to hug you instead?”   He snorts, laughter bubbling from his throat boyishly, voice moving in a childish pitch and you can practically hear his pout. “I’d rather hug you for a million years than hug him for one second.”   You have to remind yourself over and over again that this means nothing. Hoseok just needs emotional support. He just craves platonic physical contact. He’s friendly. This means nothing more. It means nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.   “I don’t know about that. A birdy told me you kissed Jimin a lot,” you tease, keeping your mind off of unnecessary thoughts that are beginning to plague you.   “On the forehead.” Hoseok melts into your arms, smiling harder. “It means nothing.”   “Yeah...I know. I know.”   It’s quiet. There’s an absence of all sounds, of white noise, of the busy concrete jungle that surrounds the building you’re in. In Hoseok’s office, you can’t even hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you. All you take in is the sound of his soft breathing, the noise of your running pulse playing in your ears, the scent of fresh linen coming from his crisp clothes, the slight tinge of expensive cologne, how firm yet soft he is wrapping himself around your frame.   It’s an invasion of privacy, how easily he can sneak himself and affect your deepest emotions. And yet, you have no nagging doubts, merely savouring his warmth and finding peace and comfort in his touch.   “I help end marriages every day. I see the end of relationships all the time,” he murmurs, barely coherent as if afraid to ruin this moment. “I...don’t think I believe in love, Y/N.”   “Me either,” you admit.   “Why?”   “Because...my love wasn’t enough.” It hurts. You shut your eyes tight as if you can stop the barrage of memories, prevent tears from soaking down your cheeks. “And I think I lost my chance.”   He swallows hard and holds you closer, tighter, without any regard for where you are or who the both of you are. “Whoever hurt you was an asshole.”   “Yeah.” Your hands curl around the fabric of his coat, bunching it in your palm, grasping onto him. “He was.”   The man becomes sleepy, blinks heavy as his heart feels. He should let go of you, but he doesn’t want to. It’s like his senses have told him he once let go of you before when he never should’ve. But eventually, enough time passes that you stir. “Hobi, are you okay? Is there something you want to talk about?”   His entire body freezes up, muscles becoming rigid, and he pulls away, brows knitted together. “What did you just call me?”   “What?” You blink. “I said Hoseok.”   “No, you didn’t.” He hasn’t heard that nickname in years. His parents don’t even call him that and he knows for a fact that he isn’t going crazy, that his ears aren’t deceiving him.   You step back and pull him away. In one breath, you’ve closed yourself off, drawing into your own body, uncomfortable. “I said Hoseok,” you insist with a sigh. “But can we go now? I’m going to miss my train.”   He nods and you walk ahead of him, going straight towards the elevators. Hoseok is left staring at your lonely backside and he wonders how he could’ve been such an asshole, what he exactly did to hurt you so much, who you exactly mean to him.

[therealjambery]

Long fics rec post is long

What better way to while away the time than fanfiction? Long fanfiction! And when I say long, I mean long, like so long it is three novels put together, how on earth did you find time to write this, so long it takes even me more than one day to read long. I'm irrationally jealous of all of these writers, as I am the type of writer who has a hard time dashing off 10,000 words in a timely fashion, let alone writing anything longer.

I'm using the SFWA's definition of a novel here, which is anythiing over 40,000 words.

These are all stories I've loved, and most of them I've actually got saved as PDFs so I can re-read them wherever I want. I'm digging pretty deep into the archives for this one, kids, so hold onto your hats.

Fandoms: Avengers/Marvel, Firefly, Inception, Leverage, Merlin, Stargate Atlantis, Star Trek AOS, Supernatural, Torchwood

Fandom: Avengers/MCU/Marvel/Whatever we're calling it these days

in deep with you darling by topaz Author's Summary: Darcy could have, under normal circumstances, resisted the aesthetics (however awesome they are, and holy crap are they awesome), but there's an itch under her skin—apparently, nearly dying by giant, fire-breathing robots from space in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico will start you questioning your life choices. Who knew? Main Pairing: Clint/Darcy Words: 48024

runaways are running the night by anothercover Author's Summary: Clint did like that the photo stayed private. He’s shit at social media, only on it because, you know, he has to be, but even Clint knew it was the kind of candid that was Instagrammable - #queen, #legend, #rawmemama, etcetera, ad nauseam, he’s pretty sure he could predict the comments before anyone actually typed them. (Bucky once said “raw me, mama?” to her with a goddamn straight face and Natasha’s expression of abject horror while she tried to work out if he meant it had made Clint laugh so fucking hard he was certain he’d ripped an organ in half. He still wants to find a way to work that story into his act, because on the one hand, people love it when he talks about his marriage, but it’s hard to find a way into it that doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of their fans, and that’s a big no-go.) AU: Natasha's in a band, Clint is basically John Mulaney, it's great Main Pairing: Clint/Natasha/Bucky Words: 53873

Ready, Fire, Aim 'Verse by gyzym Author's Summary: There's no "I" in "Avenger." Main Pairing: Steve/Tony Words: 63019

Ain't No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) by spitandvinegar Author's Summary: It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.

For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.

I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.

Steve sits down hard on the steps. Main Pairing: Steve/Bucky Words: 107076

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series by owlet Author's Summary: The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect Main Pairing: Steve/Bucky Words: 264438

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes Author's Summary: Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."

Boyfriends, compromises and learning to like oneself. Main Pairing: Clint/Bucky Words: 67059

Nobody Lost, Nobody Found by ClaraxBarton Author's Summary: "Look, dude, I get it. You’re fucked-up. HYDRA fucked you up. I’ve been there. But you’re my fucking Soul Mate!"

“I can kill you. I could kill you without even realizing what I was doing. I’m not fucked-up, I’m a monster. I’m a nightmare. You can’t be here. You can’t- All the people I’ve killed- I will not murder my Soul Mate too. Not after everything else I’ve-”

Clint worked his left hand between their bodies and managed to land a punch to the man’s right side, forcing him to shift his weight, and Clint brought his right hand down on the place where the man’s metal arm met his torso - hidden by the shirt he wore, but on full display in the video Clint had watched.

The man released Clint with a grunt of pain, and Clint pressed his advantage, landing another punch to his abdomen, backing him up against the opposite side of the RV and then pressing the kitchen knife he had pocketed while cleaning up earlier to the man’s throat.

“Like I said, I’m not a Boy Scout. I’m plenty dangerous myself. We clear on that?”

OR:

This looks bad, because it is.

OR:

How Clint Barton met his Soul Mate AU: soulmates! Main Pairing: Clint/Bucky Words: 108331

Ronin!Clint 'verse by shatteredhourglass Author's Summary: “Who the fuck are you and how did you get this line?”

“I have my ways,” the voice says, amused. “Don’t worry, I’m just enjoying the view, Captain America.” Main Pairing: Clint/Bucky Words: 63266

Fandom: Firefly/Supernatural

Weight and Motion by sevenfists [note: the podfic by dodificus is excellent] Author's Summary: The pears were ripe, Kaylee told him, but Mal wouldn't eat any of them. They were a present, nestled all sweet and green in a wooden crate that a grateful passenger gave them right before they left her on Greenleaf. AU: Crossover, Dean ends up on Serenity, just roll with it Main Pairing: Mal/Dean Words: 43117

Fandom: Inception

All the World is Bullet Shaped by pushdragon Author's Summary: If Arthur thinks that, just by waving enough money around, he can get Eames to risk his life and reputation to rescue him from a death sentence, he's got another thing coming. So Eames sets a malicious, undignified price on his services, one he can be certain that a man like Arthur would never condescend to pay. It turns out to be the first of many mistakes. Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames Words: 76656

I Seem to Be a Verb by Aja Author's Summary: Arthur owns a quirky hipster science bookstore. Eames is a world-famous mega-celebrity.

Clearly this calls for a meet-cute. AU: Notting Hill AU Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames Words: 93837

In Medias Res by starlingthefool Author's Summary: What's the most resilient infection? What's more infectious than a cold, deadlier than cholera? What lingers in your blood forever?

Love, of course. Mal has always known that. Her pointman Eames may dismiss her for a romantic, but for better or worse, love has gotten her this far. AU: Mirror-verse Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames, Mal/Dom Words: 52662

The Music Makers by mami_san Author's Summary: A. Graham Cole was twenty-one years old when he was killed in action in Iraq. This is the official story. The truth is, of course, somewhat different. Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames Words: I dunno, because it's not on AO3. But my PDF is 451KB so it's over 50k, most likely.

Presque Vu by rageprufrock Author's Summary: Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him. Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames Words: 69588

Wherever You Will Be (That's Where I'll Call Home) [The DomesticVerse] by gyzym Author's Summary: People you kiss in an airport baggage claim and then don't talk to for thirteen months shouldn't be able to exist, let alone make your chest do the things Arthur's chest is doing. There are rules. Main Pairing: Arthur/Eames Words: 74828

Fandom: Leverage

Psychic AU series by Laughtsalot3412 Author's Summary: He had a sniper rifle scoping the girl’s bright eyes and the guy’s smile. AU: They all have psychic powers Main Pairing: OT3 Eliot/Parker/Alec Words: 89955

Fandom: Merlin

[note: look, I don't even go here. I've never watched the show. But.]

Drastically Redefining Protocol by rageprufrock Author's Summary: In which Prince Arthur meets Merlin and all hell promptly breaks loose. AU: Modern AU Main Pairing: Arthur/Merlin Words: 46,059

The Student Prince by FayJay Author's Summary: A Modern day Merlin AU set at the University of St Andrews, featuring teetotal kickboxers, secret wizards, magnificent bodyguards of various genders, irate fairies, imprisoned dragons, crumbling gothic architecture, arrogant princes, adorable engineering students, stolen gold, magical doorways, attempted assassination, drunken students, shaving foam fights, embarrassing mornings after, The Hammer Dance, duty, responsibility, friendship and true love... AU: Modern AU Main Pairing: Arthur/Merlin Words: 145222

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves by auburn Author's Summary: Vala Mal Doran and her partners, renegades Jehan abd-Ba'al and Meredith McKay, hijack the Tau'ri ship Prometheus and leave the Milky Way behind in search of the Lost City of the Ancients, Atlantis. AU: Space pirates! Main Pairing: John/Rodney Words: 180299

The Price That Life Exacts by cathalin Author's Summary:When John disappears without a trace during a routine mission, people in a beleaguered Atlantis eventually have to try to move on. Rodney never completely gives up hope of finding John, and though he soldiers on to help Atlantis, a year later he still lives every day with his grief. Main Pairing: John/Rodney Words: 63369

Written By the Victors by Spreranza Author's Summary: Caroll, Franklin R. Atlantis Revisited. New York and London, Routledge, 2011. Chapman, Denise. Several Kinds of Genius: The Life of Rodney McKay. NY: Harper Perennial, 2015. Croft, Rosalind. City of Spires: A Memoir. Toronto: The Mercury Press, 2009. Dugan, Paul. A Political History of Atlantis. Oxford: OUP, 2012. Main Pairing: John/Rodney Words: 52843

Tongues of Men and Angels by Mad_Maudlin Author's Summary: When SG-4 is ambushed offworld, an injured Major John Sheppard must put his trust in a Tok'ra agent named McKay to survive. But what secrets is McKay keeping about his mission, the planet, and his own motives for helping John? AU: They didn't go to Atlantis Main Pairing: John/Rodney Words: 58523

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

The Least of All Possible Mistakes by rageprufrock Author's Summary: If ever a people deserved tasering, it’s Holmeses. Main Pairing: Lestrade/Mycroft AU: Genderbent Lestrade Words: 118096

Fandom: Supernatural

Red by Big Pink [note: seriously, this is one of my favorite fics/series ever and I have the ebooks if you want to not read this on LJ or FF.net] Author's Summary: Something evil is killing treeplanters in the forests of the Pacific Northwest, possibly the same predator that Dean narrowly escaped years before. How Grimm will things get before the brothers figure it out? Main Pairing: none Words: 81839

Fandom: Supernatural/Stargate Atlantis

And All the World Beneath by seperis Author's Summary: Dean remembers Texas as blackland stretching in marker-thick strips of vivid brown and black, broken with the sprawling metroplexes of Dallas and San Antonio and Houston; farms spread with the yellow tops of maize waving in pre-autumn winds, threshers moving complacently through the fields with drowsy men in hats waving at the road. He remembers green and gold fields dotted with cows, half-year calves running on the outskirts of the herds. He remembers these were what he saw between jobs, lives being lived that had nothing to do with creeping twilight and sleeping only behind salt circles and ritual wards. AU: Cthulhu mythos Main Pairing: Dean/John, John/Rodney Words: 67279

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Leave No Soul Behind by whochick Author's Summary: If you're Starfleet, you spend your whole life wishing you never see an EPAS uniform right up until the moment they become your only hope. Whether you're dying a slow, cold death in space, or a long painful one on some godforsaken planet, they're going to come for you. So count your last breaths, son, and hold on tight. They leave no soul behind. AU: Spock did not join Starfleet, he joined the Emergency Personnel Ambulance Service (EPAS) Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock Words: 258951

The Lotus Eaters by aldora89 Author's Summary: Stranded on the planet Sigma Nox while searching for a missing away team, Spock and Kirk find themselves pitted against a disturbing native life form. With the captain out of commission on a regular basis and Spock struggling to preserve his stoicism, staying alive is difficult enough – but when a slim chance for escape surfaces, their resolve is truly put to the test. Together they must fight for survival in the heart of an alien jungle, and in the process, uncover the mystery of the planet’s past. Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock Words: 93594

Only Good for Legends by leupagus Author's Summary: Detective Spock, born on Vulcan and resident of San Francisco, is assigned to the Midwest police bureau. I think everyone can guess what happens next. AU: Spock is a Detective. Otherwise it's pretty much the same, including Kirk's petty criminal tendencies. Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock Words: 149640

So Wise We Grow by Deastar Author's Summary: "Commander Spock, we have located your son," the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock's face that he's never heard of this kid before in his life. "If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week." AU: kidfic Main Pairing: Kirk/Spock Words: 81248

Switch by Ceres_Libera Author's Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense. Main Pairing: Kirk/McCoy Words: 230867

Fandom: Torchwood

The Rose of Jericho by kaydeefalls Author's Summary: Post-CoE. When Martha Jones encounters a dark UNIT cover-up in the wake of the 456, it's up to Gwen's new Torchwood team to bring the truth to light -- and save Ianto. AU: alternate ending post Children of Earth Main Pairing: Jack/Ianto Words: 62606

That should keep you busy for a while, right? If you have other long fic recs, let me know in the comments/with a reblog!

[wintaer-bear]

Tulips (M) Ch. 1

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader x Jeon Jungkook Genre/ Rating: smut, mature (18+) Word Count: 6.3k ***WARNING: mature themes, strip/bar/club!AU, mentions of cheating/infidelity, explicit content, slight alcoholism and a flirty Jungkook Summary: Jung Hoseok is over you. He’s been over you. So when he sees you drinking up the bar with Jungkook, he has every intention of leaving it alone - until he doesn’t.

inspired by: Cheat Codes and Nickey Romero’s ‘Sober’

The best cure for a hangover is to keep on drinking. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past two weeks. The boggling head pain disappears with another sip of wine. Two more and the empty feeling in your chest becomes so full with fluids you can’t remember a time is was anything but.

2:33 AM

You pick up your phone, not even bothering to see who’s number you’re dialing. At this point, it doesn’t even matter. You could care less about the company so long as it’s someone willing to drive over in the middle of the night with another bottle of wine.

“Hello?” The voice is bleak and shy, one you don’t immediately recognize.

“Come over,” you stay, focused on your articulation. “Let’s drink. Bring your own beer. And I'll take whatever white they have left on the shelf.” You eye into the opening of the bottle to make sure it’s empty. Every drop counts.

“Y/N?”

“No, you bozo. It’s me, Y/N,” you say pitifully. Despite your attempt to sound as sober as the next, you’re a slurring mess and it becomes evident that the person on the line doesn’t find you amusing by the pause. “Look, are you coming or not? I’ve got a whole contact list of people to go through if you’re not.” The phone is brighter than you remember and it hurts to look at it directly. It’s all a blur of colors through your wet eyes.

“I’ll be there in a few. Hang on. Same address?”

“He got the vacation home and I got the condo. That’s just how a divorce works, I guess.”

The other line of the phone goes quiet, side for the rustling against the speaker. You can hear a voice in the background asking where the recipient of the call is going but you can’t make out a response. Your eyes sting. The desperation in the question evident even through the phone. A shaking tone you resonate with all too well.

“Okay, I’m heading over. Try not to die, or whatever.”

“Don’t forget the alcohol.”

You end the call. The conversation already forgotten as you push yourself off the floor. The room is spinning, shaking your steps as you make it into your kitchen in search of more alcohol. You look in the cupboard. The wine rack. Twice. The freezer for some hard liquor. Nothing. A dry house it would seem if there wasn't a display of empty glasses all over the counter tops. A heavy breath of disappointment escapes you as you make way towards your bed. Your bed. The thought brings a sickening thought to your stomach and manifests in a liquid hurl from your mouth. There’s nothing left in your stomach to regurgitate. Nothing but the acidic sludge from the past week and a half. You don’t bother cleaning it up. Not now at least. You leave it for your sober, functioning self to deal with - whenever that’ll be. Sobriety, who is she? You don’t know her.

The room turns dim. You want to fight it. How foolish you must  look, fighting your heavy eyelids beside the puddle of alcohol. If only he could see you now - the miserable state you knew to be inevitable. Your mind blanks at the thought.

11:11 AM. I wish this hangover would just end.

You wake in your own bed, sunk in on the softness of the sheets. You haven’t the slightest clue how you got here but it’s only assumed that you’re a higher functioning drunk than you give yourself credit for.

“Nice,” you give yourself a mental pat on the back. It’d be a real one if you could manage to roll off your back. But the covers keep you snug, comfortable with their weight on top of you - until you realize it isn’t.

You jump out of bed. The bed you used to share with your husband. Ex-husband? The term is still new. It’ll take some getting used to.

You haven’t slept in it in weeks. Not since the day you came home to Jason tangled up in the sheets with someone else. Someone thinner than you. Younger than you. Perhaps even prettier than you. You don’t know. You didn’t get a good look before slamming the door back in and heading downtown to your attorney.

You hate this condo. You always have. It’s never been comfortable enough to be a home - your home? No matter how many personal additions you add to the vast space, it reflects twice as empty and is just as unfamiliar walking through. The pillared wedding photo that hangs at the end of the hall. The arrangement of fake bouquets that decorate the end tables of the living room. Even down to the collection of keys and heels that hide at the entrance of the foyer. All these things seem out of place, misplaced and forced to fit in some geometrical shape when in fact, you are an oval. An odd shape of curves and bends - one that really knows no ending or beginning; one that simply just is.

The days get longer and progressively easier. You throw out one remnant of you Jason at a time. His toothbrush, his console, his chair. Though your marriage was rocky at best, you had still grown fond of the idea of falling in love after the fact - the idea of welcoming home a loving husband who thought about you during his day, evident by the bouquet of flowers he picked up on the way home. The fairytale quickly turned sour upon receiving adequate documentation. Documentation stating you legally husband and wife by the state and the ticket to his inheritance.

Then you begin to throw out things that remind you of him, things that make you queasy. Items like the plastic petunias by the door and the spices he uses to flavor his steak. Eventually, you’re able to throw out items belonging to the both of you. You get a new bed. New sheets. New end tables. The wedding picture is replaced with an abstract shelf and even though the shelves are empty, it still feels more alive than the masked smile on your face in the removed portrait.

You rebuild the condo into something warmer. A dwelling place rather than an empty space to rest. A place of living plants and fresh scents of flowers from the Sunday market. You replace the barren walls with wallpaper of red bricks of and grey stone, something you’ve always found homey but the previous thought to be distracting and a waste of his money. His money. Funny how much of his money is now yours and how much more easily accessible it is than when the two of you were together.

You even start rekindling friendships, reaching out to those you’ve lost contact with over the volatile years of your marriage. Friends from college, some from high school. Dancer friends. Friends who have forgotten you all together.

You should feel ashamed, embarrassed for dropping your friends to climb up the social ladder only to return three years later, but if there’s anything you’ve learned through your shit show of a marriage, it’s that pride and ego get you nowhere.

At first the conversations are light. A few “Y/N, how are you” and “I’m so glad you called.” But, as conversations go, the talks get progressively more intimate and dark. Questions concerning your divorce spring up. Subtle jabs to your character are thrown. Some conversations even go as far as angry feuds and impulsive hang ups. It’s not to say you don’t deserve it. Once you got hitched to Jason, you dropped your entire life all together to assume the role of an aristocratic home wife/bitch, arrogance you assumed with the last name.

By the time autumn ends you feel yourself caught up. You’ve hosted a number of brunches for the girls and spa nights for whoever was willing. Jessica has two kids now. A 2 year old boy and infant daughter. Her husband works in construction. Jonathan, is it? Nadi is working on getting into nursing nursing school, a newfound passion she picked up after graduation. Kimmy teaches middle school dance and volunteers at a studio on weekends. All the information is overwhelming. Heartwarming, but overwhelming. You can only feel yourself as someone unaccomplished as you stare into the mirror. It’s just you. No children. No husband. No profound calling. Not even a stable job. All you have is this condo and the alimony. Which sounds great at the forefront, but is isolating and lonesome come seven o’clock when everyone has to return home for familial and occupational duties.

No one mentions it. No one dares too. Not even Jessica who, unsurprisingly, is still into afternoon gossip despite her motherhood. There’s no news of how he’s doing. What he’s doing. You don’t know the slightest thing about him and it honestly feels like he just dropped off the face of the earth since your split.

It would be inaccurate to say you’re not interested, that you’re not the least bit curious of the details. You want to know. You want to satisfy some of the darkest parts of you that still believe in youthful promises and romanticism. But there is not so much as a whisper of his state of living. What did you expect, after all?

“I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m almost there. Give me three more minutes and I’m there,” you speak into your phone as you weave through groups of people. The voice shouts back at you to ‘hurry it up, or so help me God.’ But try as you might, the bustling foot traffic this evening leaves little to no room for a single person to squirm through. You’re caught at each stop light, staring at the traffic signs as if it’ll make the fluorescent walking man appear any faster. You’re late. You’re always late. It could be your own party and you would still be late.

By the time you reach the front doors of 148 Nadi and Kimmy are nowhere in sight. You can only assume Nadi couldn’t wait to get her birthday celebration started and is lost in the labyrinth inside. You enter, expecting the venue to be no different than the clubs Jason used to take you to on the rare occasion he took you anywhere. The bouncer scans your ID, then scans you, giving you the up down before he steps aside to let you enter. His smirk is mischievous, flirtatious if you didn’t know any better. Upon entry to it’s foyer and coatroom, you automatically notice the gold trim of the venue. It adds a subtle elegance to the otherwise occult atmosphere. There’s no wonder Nadi asked you to book a party here for her birthday.

You’ve heard of 148’s exclusive and strict entry policy. As many times as Nadi has tried to get on the list to check out the dance club she just didn’t have connections to the ‘right’ kinds of people for entry before it reached max capacity. People who weren’t on the list with reservations and VIP perks had to wait in the endless line, hoping parties would leave the club early - they usually didn’t.

It takes you longer than you expect to find them, in the middle of the dance floor no less. Nadi has two cups of mixed drinks in her hands. Why does that not surprise you? Kimmy, the teacher, you have to remind yourself, is hidden between two adoring men who look like they want to eat her. You pull both of them to the side, both to save them from themselves and the hounds around them.

“Shots?” You offer, dragging them to the barside. It’s packed, full with buzzed entailed fun and a whole lot of shoving. By the time you escape the hell hole and return for birthday shots, Kimmy has her tongue down some rando’s throat and Nadi is chatting up a group of girls who are obviously as drunk as she is. Sighing, you take the shots by yourself and leave the empty plastic on a high table. You forget how particularly unfond you are of clubs and the amount of alcohol it takes for you to ease up - or maybe that was just you in general. Bitchy, uncomfortable and alcohol dependent.

You allow Nadi and Kimmy to have their fun. It’s not every day they get to live a life of grandeur and aristocratic demolition. Though, you must note, the frequency has increased since your return. Shaking the thought, you try not to think about it. You try not to ponder the idea that you may not actually be the worst type of female out there. Your friends wouldn’t use you for social ties. No, that’s strictly a Jason thing to do - a sort of evil reserved for the privileged, petty and jealous.

You make your way to an empty booth, one by the edge where you can keep an eye on Nadi and Kimmy in the event they bite off more than they can chew. It’s dark on the dance floor, but Nadi’s sparkly sequin dress makes for a terrific tracking system. You order yourself another drink with the server, this time taking it slow as you sip it for content rather than falsified fun.

“Mind if I join you?” The owner of the voice slides himself in the seat opposite of you, now face to face as he speaks. You recognize him as the bouncer from earlier, the one with the over friendly smile. The same smile stretched out on his lips now as he runs his tongue over its outline - not that it’s where you’re looking.

“Not that you actually meant it, but yes, actually. I do mind. Those seats are reserved for my friends.”

“I could be a friend. Jungkook,” he introduces. His voice is flirty, a tone that reminds you of Jason when he speaks to his secretary - and any other able female. It automatically makes you defensive, no harm to him.

You roll your eyes but stretch out your hand to greet his anyway. “Y/N. Recently divorced.” You play his game and try to make this exchange as awkward as possible.

“Nice.”Jungkook shrugs at your statement and points to himself.  “On-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now we’re off. Might be permanent depending on how this goes.”

“She found someone better?”

“Worse. But I was talking about us.”

“Unforntunate.”

“At least we weren’t married.”

You pause. Then laugh when you register the lightness of his words. You’ve never joked about your divorce before. Just a whole lot of unnecessary sympathy and curious questions.

“And the resting bitch face ceases,” he smiles back.

“On the occasion.”

“Glad I’m here to witness such rarity. Can I get you another?” He stretches his gaze to your drink. You hadn’t even noticed you had emptied all its contents into your system. Jungkook waves down the same server from before. She looks at you quizzically as if she knows what’s going on here and proceeds to whisper something in Jungkook’s ear before disappearing behind the bar.

“Work,” he assures you. “Nothing important.”

“Obviously,” you can't help will roll your eyes again. “I can’t imagine what would be more important than sabotaging what’s left of your relationship.”

“I appreciate your sarcasm, but rest assured, if my girlfriend and I break up, again,” he stresses, “it has little to nothing to do with what goes on between us tonight.”

“Did I mention the reason behind divorce was adultery?” He dodges your blows well and you’re finding his responses mildly entertaining.

“So you’re experienced, then?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you scoff.

“He,” you clarify. “He cheated.”

“Unfortunate,” he mocks. The drinks are delivered twice as fast as yours and is twice as full. “Cheers to failed relationships.” You clink your glass with the bouncer’s, unstopping and relentless until its contents are finished.

You don’t know how long you stay in the booth drinking and mocking the bouncer that should probably have already returned to his post, but it’s enough to get you feeling light headed and free.

“Here’s a question,” you stammer. “A rich spouse who cheats or a faithful but poor spouse who does what he can? And I mean, poor. Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory poor.”

“Cabbage soup for dinner? Why is that even a question? The rich spouse.” Jungkook spits up a little in his mouth. “But keep the poor guy on side. You know,  just in case.”

“Is that who you are? The ‘just-in-case-guy’?”

“That,” Jungkook slurs, “implies I’m a good man. I’m just the poor guy on the side.” He winks.

“Noted.”

You get up to use the bathroom.

“Hey, where you going? Are we moving this party elsewhere?” He calls after you, scooting out of the booth to follow.

“Bathroom,” you whisper, pushing the rising man back down in his seat. “Who knows if I’ll come back.” You didn’t notice from across the table, but his eyes are wet with sparkles. They’re as reflective as the leather jacket he has on - the one perfectly outlining the curvature of his long arms and broad shoulders.

“Or, we’ll see if I’ll still be here.” He pulls you down into the booth with him as he falls, the silhouette of your face inches away from his as you nearly fall on top of him.

“Odds are you will be.” You don’t break eye contact as he further lessens the space between you.

“Go home with me if you’re right?”

You shouldn’t let a smile slip from your lips, but it escapes you anyway. “Doubtful,” you say, bopping his nose with your pointer finger and breaking the intensity of his gaze. You rise yourself off him and head towards the lady’s room, quickly turning your stance in order to hide the blush bestowing on your cheeks. It’s the alcohol. It has to be the alcohol.

As you walk back, you take notice of the multitude of stages. You must not have noticed them before, full of dancers and entertainers blending in with the dance floor. But now, in their ending glory, the stages are empty and resemble something of a trampoline - a short lived fun followed by immediate revelation that you can’t actually fly, or do backflips, or toe-touches. Why you mind functions like this, you have no idea. You’ve worked on being more positive, promise, although it doesn’t show.

You stop by the bar. Again. You figure another drink or two won’t hurt. You’ve still got enough self control to tell bouncer boy Jung… Jung… what was his name again? Whatever. You’re in total control. “You’re not going home with him. You’re not,” a play by play you have to repeat to yourself.

Your analytical interpretation marks a halt when you catch an ambiguous, but oddly familiar silhouette by the corner. A silhouette that is quickly growing larger as you blink to make sense of it.

It’s odd. The presence. The sharp motion. The stranger almost reminds you of something you can’t pinpoint. Something you’ve felt before. Like a favored winter morning, or early sunset. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The familiarity, the brute movements. Then it hits you. Caught in the sudden flashes of the ceiling strobe lights and brought to focus by the Jack and Coke, the figure almost looks like him in the dark.

A sudden pang burns in the hole of your chest and you panic - a panic different from what you’ve been feeling. A panic different from walking in on Jason. A panic different from being alone through the empty nights. This unrelenting feeling burns cold. Burns an icy blue and stupefies your entire being. There is no anger laced at the source of this sentiment, no resentment. It’s just absolute wrecked longing accompanied by an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Hoseok.

You eyes dampen the second you catch his stare glaring back at you. There’s no mistake it’s him. Four years later, and here you are, still a puddle at his feet and he knows exactly what he’s walking into - who he’s walking towards.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight,” he says with authority. You don’t even try to fight him as his hand grabs the plastic from yours. Hoseok finishes it in a single gulp. You know this because you can see the outline of his Adam’s Apple move just once, in a slick and defined motion. When he finishes, he crumbles the plastic in his fist and swings it to the side, gaze still intent on yours.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” The man you haven’t seen in half a decade drags you out of the club. You don’t even think about the friends you’re leaving behind. Or the boy still waiting at the booth. You don’t think at all. No questions. You just let it happen, afraid if you think about it too hard, the fingers between yours might disappear in some kind of torturous, luminous dream.

It’s your greatest fear - both loving and hating the same thing. It’s something more potent than a guilty pleasure, more rudimentary than a complex emotion of lust. Hoseok is that. The taste you can’t get enough of, but the touch that kills you - something you’re reminded of during the silent drive home as he shifts gears between stop lights. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t have to. His clenched jaws structures enough conversation for you to understand what isn’t said.

He still hates you. He still cares about you. He still -

“Don’t ever come back to 148. I’m putting you on my blacklist. They won’t let you in.” His words are cold, harsh and rigid. His eyes are still glued to the road but somehow you feel as though they are focused on you instead as you shrink beside him. You want to say something, but you vocal chords betray you, frozen in his presence.

“Hoseok... I…” you finally manage to murmur as he stops outside your complex. Hoseok doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. Instead he rushes out his door in a fury you’ve only seen once or twice and opens your door with enough force to jerk the entire car in his direction.

“Get out. Go home. I’ve got to get back to work.”

As if his threat of disappearance are the magic words your throat has been waiting for all night, you voice solidifies in the air. “Blacklist? Work? You work at 148? Since when? Why?”

“Get your head out of your ass, Y/N. Go inside.” He pauses to look at you through the doorway. “It’s cold out.”

For a second you finally find his eyes familiar, warm. But they soon disappear when he realizes you’re not budging from the passenger seat.

“I’m not here to play games with you, Y/N. Get out.”

You don’t want to leave. Not like this. Not when he’s so close. Not when he can disappear for another half decade.

“Come inside,” you say, soft and vulnerable. You bite the inner side of your cheeks to prevent the stream of tears threatening your stability. You’re not sure you have it in you to beg him to stay.

The grip he has on the top of the car door tightens and he takes a moment to maul over the offer while jaws lock in place. “I can’t.”

Two words never hurt so much. You don’t want to come of like a spoiled brat, crying at the first sign of rejection. But it more than that. His words run deeper than you would like to admit. You know the weight that the few words he has for you carry, the effort it takes him to roll them off his tongue.

“I’m not,” you assure him. “We’re not-”

“I know,” Hoseok interrupts. “But that doesn't change anything between us.”

“You know?” You stand, curious. You hadn’t thought he would keep tabs on you. If anything, it should be the opposite. Hoseok should be trying to completely obliviate every trace of you, removing you from even the deepest parts of him.

You feet drag you closer to him, a magnetic effect that occurs on its own accord. It takes a moment to adjust, to silently ask for his permission to rest your hands on his chest.

The moment your fingers make contact, you can feel all your atoms rush to the tips of your palms. Every piece of you wants to touch him, to be touched by him. It’s a feeling you haven’t forgotten. Misplaced, but not forgotten.

Hoseok must feel the same exhilarating rush because he pulls your waist in closer to his own, a gesticulation you’re sure he’ll regret in the morning, but right now could care little to nothing of. A sigh of content escapes your mouth. The night could end here and you would be okay with it.

But you’re greedy and you want more. You want him.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt and pull the final gap of your upper bodies to a minimum as your lips splay on his, asking for entry. The cold, rigid stunnation of his first gaze immediately set on fire by the sheer intensity shared between your longing lips.

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t pull away. He never does. Hoseok has always loved you in immoderation. He’s either 110% or none at all. And right now, he’s the former, the years caught up on his tongue.

There’s not a moment to breathe between the hungry kisses you share. Whether it’s your air or his air you’re breathing, you’re unsure. The kisses are wet and sloppy, but you can’t bring yourself to take your time with him. It isn’t until he moves his hands up the spine of your back and lips down the side of your neck that you’re able to get words out.

“Come inside,” you repeat, this time more daunting than anything.

“I shouldn’t,” he breaks his kiss as he breathes out into the cold night air.

Shouldn’t. That doesn’t mean he can’t. His words excite you. You’re one step closer to having him bending you over the dining table and taking what’s rightfully his. Your twat clenches at the thought of him back inside you, filling you in ways only he knows how.

“Please,” you speak into his ear, lips running down his neck in return. “I want you, Hoseok. I need you.” He groans underneath your touch, bites his lower lip as you begin to suckle on his exposed collarbone and run your hand against his covered groin.

You weren’t lying. In this moment, you did want him; you did need him. Whether or not he needed or wanted you was unclear and was what was keeping you from leading him up the steps of your condo in the first place.

“Come inside and let me feel you.” You’re now at a standstill, unsure if your begging is coming off as desperate and annoying or a sort of foreplay he’s developed over the years of your absence. You nuzzle your forehead against his hard chest, eyes shut tight to refrain from breaking the last of your resolve, from damaging the dam of tears you’ve so mercilessly held onto these past few months. “I’ve missed you.”

Hearing the tremble in your voice, Hoseok lifts your face from his chest, traces your lips with his thumb and slams the car door behind you.

“I swear,” he breathes, “you’ll be the death of me.”

The rush to your door is frantic, drawn out with extended kisses every other step and light fondling in the next. It’s a wonder no one hears you moan Hoseok’s name into the night as he pulls at your bare skin, impatiently guiding him to your bed. He grabs your ass in the elevator, slides his hands between your thighs as he pulls your backside into him.

“How much did you miss me?” he asks into your ear. It brings a tingling sensation to your knees, a high a girl can only reach from pleasures of the flesh. His fingers dance on your thigh as you’re a whimpering mess before him. “Tell me,” he commands, this time rough as he bites your shoulder. You shiver in excitement as he replaces his hands with his thigh and spread your legs up from behind. The heat lost from his hand elicits a utterral groan before you realize the return at the band of your skirt. “How much you missed my fingers,” he slides his slender fingers down your slit, teasing until you’re a begging mess.

“Hoseok,” you moan.

“How much,” he inserts his middle finger. “Did you miss my fingers inside your tight pussy?”

You hiss at the tease, the frolicking of his fingers outlining your core with your own juices. You want him. You’re ready for him. Even without his incessant teasing, you’re wet enough to take the entirety of his cock. You turn around to tell him, to dive into his mouth and let him know how excited he makes you but just as you do the elevator bings and comes to a halt, finally indicating your arrival.

You wet his lips with a quick kiss and grab hold of the bottom of his lips with your teeth, sucking just enough to get him riled and irritated. Smirking, you give him one final look before whispering in the lobe of his ear. You press your body to him, holding the jawline that moments ago were clenched in your presence. “Almost as much as I miss your thick cock filling me -”

You don’t get the chance to finish. Hoseok’s hold is tight as he grabs you by the curve of your buttocks and wraps your legs around his waist, smothering you once again with desperate laid out kisses.

“You’re so fucking greedy,”  he says. “Thinking about my cock while my finger is already inside you.”

There’s no stumbling over passcodes, Hoseok doesn’t ask for or directions to your bedroom. Odd, seeing how he’s never been in your condo before tonight.

“Condom?” He asks, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. They’re more masculine than you remember. The sharp protrusions of his acromion now hidden behind the firm roundness of his muscles.

“Third drawer on the left.”

You’re in a hurry to catch up to him and undress, tearing off the pantyhose beneath your skirt.

“Hey,” he fumbles back onto the bed, kissing the bareness of your inner thigh. “That’s my job.”

“Your job,” you pull his jawline up to you, kissing him once again to let him know how much you want him. “Is to fuck me senseless into these sheets. Can you do that for me?” A smile thins his lips mid-kiss.

“I think I can manage.”

And manage he does.

Hoseok drives his teasing fingers from the sides of your hips towards your breasts, latching onto them as he traces the midline of your body with his tongue, only stopping when he gets to the tip of your clit. He pauses to kiss it, the tiny spot of stimulation. The coolness of his breath elicits a sigh from your choked mouth as you press him deeper in your cunt. His tongue does a rude dance along your slit, but refuses to enter.

“Unghhh,” you beg. “Please Hoseok, don’t tease me anymore. Just fuck me. I’m ready for you. Feel.” Your command is backed by the efforts of your hands as you use them to guide his own from your breast to your core. He lets you guide his fingers around you wet pussy, inserting them at will. The stretch of both your fingers in your unused cunt elicits more pants from your shortened breath. He chuckles in amusement, enjoying the desperation of your dripping cunt.

“Mmm,” he hums, rubbing circles around your swollen clitoris. “Stay still for me baby, let me finger fuck you.” Hoseok takes his thumb and index finger of his left hand to hold your clit open as he inserts two fingers from his right inside you, pumping in and out at an uncontrolled rate. His tongue drags along your inner thigh until they replace his fingers.

“FUCK,” you gasp. “Just like that Hoseok. God, your tongue is the best little fuck.”

At that, he indulges his tongue deeper in your cunt, tasting your thick juices as he struggles to refrain himself from using his teeth to trace your insides. He’s missed you. He’s missed your taste.

Your pussy twitches at the sound of him unzipping his jeans and your mixed juices begin to soak down your slit as you stare at him, replaying all the dirty things he’s done to you in the past. Fucking in the high school gym, fingering you on the bleachers of the football stadium, eating you out in his car the first night he got it, pounding into you the study rooms of the university library. There was nowhere the two of you haven’t fucked. Nowhere but here. The home of you and your ex-husband - the man who ultimately stole you away from Hoseok.

You watch him roll the condom onto himself as he lays back, back resting perpendicularly against your headboard. The same headboard, you imagine, that will be knocking against the wall by the end of this session.

“My turn,” he commands. “Ride me. Show me how much you missed by dick stretching your tight pussy.”

You immediately crawl over to him, allowing your tongue and breast to kiss the tip of his dick before you run it along your entrance. He shivers at the wetness of your mouth.

“Shit,” Hoseok hisses. “Just like that. Suck me just like that. Fuck me just like that.”

You hum in response, taking as much of his thick cock as you can.

His cock twitches in the back of your throat, activating you gag reflex. You can’t help but cough from his precum caught in the back.

“Why don’t you use your other entrance, dollface,” he murmurs, tapping the high end of your ass. You do as he asks, running his tip along the entrance of your slit. Unable to hold himself back like before, Hoseok lifts his hips in order to penetrate you.

“Ah, ah, ungh, ho- hold on,” you chant. He’s relentless, unceasing in his thrusts and doesn’t allow you to adjust to his width. A sadistic pleasure flows through your body. You love this, the pounding of his helps below you. Although he was the one to suggest you on top, he can’t help but control the tempo of his pleasure. You feel too good, your pussy too tight from the lack of use.

Hoseok flips you over on to your back, towering over you and hitting your clit as he continues to pound. “Take it. Fucking take it,” he groans in between his shoves. “Your pussy.” Thrust. “Is so fucking.” Thrust. “Unghhh - tight.” Thrust. “Did he even fuck you right?” Hard thrust.

The question is meant to be redundant, demeaning to Jason’s masculinity and praising your cunt, but you can’t help but catch the despair hidden in his tone.

“No,” you say, soft beneath him and grabbing whatever parts of his back you can as he jackhammers into you. “Never. He could never make me feel as good as you do.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok moans, burying his face in between the crevice of your neck. “I’m going to come. Your pussy’s too tight, I’m gon-”

You interrupt his speech with a formal kiss, running your fingers through his hair as he pulsates inside you, indicating his release. You pussy clenches around him as he does, milking his seed for all it’s worth. Even with the condom catching all his ejaculation, it excites you to have him come inside you, a sort of taboo that speaks a undetermined connection.

When his breath steadies, Hoseok rolls off on top of you and heads for the bathroom, disposing of the used rubber in the wastebasket by your bedside.

It takes him awhile to return, but when he does it’s with a fresh towel in hand. He wipes you clean, taking his time as he views the aftereffect of orgasm. He didn’t even think about your pleasure, about your orgasm - a new concept to you entirely.

Your hands catch his mid-thigh and there’s a second of stillness.

“Stay?” You whisper, hopeful and unravelled. He clenches his jaw again, a new habit he must started when he’s deep in thought. The second of hesitation is enough for you to ask for more. “Please.”

He nods, gently as he crawls back in bed with you, wrapping his familiar arms around your waist. You bare bodies feed off each other, heat being the only form of communication between two close-but-distant vessels. You fall asleep to the rhythmic sound of his strong breathing, counting as the moments between you are fleeting.

“Hoseok?” You want to shout, but the sound comes out as a mere whisper beneath your breath. You repeat his name like a mantra, like a child making a wish in the last determining seconds before she blows out the candles. It takes all your restraint to refrain from charging over there yourself to turn the stranger around in order to confirm or disconfirm his identity, which makes it all the more upsetting when the stranger turns around with the wrong nose. With the wrong lips. With the wrong eyes. It’s not him. It’s not Hoseok.

You wake with a jerk.

5:22 AM

The red digits stare at you. The sun’s not yet up. But Hoseok is. And you hear him shut the door behind him.

A/N: this is part of the Appease (strip/bar/club!AU) Series. 

ps. i know. i hate OC too. she’s a indecisive, self-loathing, drunk, unreliable, piece of poo (aka me). stay tuned to see how much more fucked up homegirl is.

pps: lol @ me, no editing, whut whut.