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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Find a Way Chapter 6

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Rating: M (mature; mdni)

Count: ~7.4k

Tags/Warnings: alcohol, ruthless teasing, daddy, awkward interactions, Erwin (is his own warning), general shyness and vulnerability

A/N: buckle up, it’s about to get heated. thanks for waiting, and don’t worry; there’s still much more to come. enjoy~

It feels like headway is being made in terms of spending time outside of the sandwich shop and bar you work at, but Miche can't help but think these are still the settings in which he gets to know you best, either having the excuse to fire questions back and forth or able to watch you work and interact with the people at Marley’s.

Tonight finds the two of you at the bar once again, only it’s a little different than usual. For one, you’re not actually on the schedule, free to mill about the establishment as you please. Two, you are free to drink. Quite literally.

Reiner (Miche is pretty sure now that's his name) makes you whatever you want whenever you want it, and Miche has to hand it to you, you pace yourself better than most twenty-somethings (definitely better than he ever did). You down water between mixed drinks, eat a little bit here and there, and even turn down some of the shots customers offer to buy you.

That doesn't mean you're sober, though. Miche is willing to bet you're at least tipsy as you lean over the bartop, saying something to your co-worker, the tall brunet—Bert?—that makes him splutter and quickly turn away.

Reiner slides you another drink, you blow him a kiss, and then you make your way back over to the little table Miche secured some time ago, straw between your lips, eyes locked on his the entire time it takes you to get from the counter to your chair.

You're a little off tonight, though not in a bad way. It's your attitude, your energy. Miche is used to your teasing and overall playful nature, but tonight, your eyes are brighter and your tongue is looser.

"Love those dudes so much," you announce, glancing over your shoulder at your coworkers, Bert dancing back and forth as Reiner tries to swat him with his towel.

"Yeah, they seem nice," Miche comments.

He isn't especially familiar with any of your friends, but what he knows of them, he appreciates. Reiner and his boyfriend watch out for your safety, and Bert and Annie pick up your shifts when you're too drained from school. They all seem like a good support system which is necessary for someone with an extraordinary amount of pressure sitting on their shoulders. Miche wouldn't have made it through med school if it weren't for Erwin, Nile, and Hange, would have probably flunked out first semester if he's being honest.

"One day you'll meet everyone else," you tell him. "I want you to meet everyone else—Sasha and Hitch and Jean and Marco. The whole crew."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do if they don't like me?" He's kidding, fairly confident in his ability to charm a group of students, but he's still curious about your answer.

You make a noise that sounds a lot like blowing raspberries, waving a hand as you do. "Impossible. You're very likeable, Miche. Too likeable, I daresay."

"That so?"

"Mhmmm. I mean, I like you, and I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. Most of the time."

He chuckles, not much else he can do. "I'm glad to hear it."

You rest your cheek in your hand, searching for the straw underneath your mouth and having just enough trouble finding it to make Miche snort into his soda. After pouting for a couple seconds, though, you move on.

"Tell me about your day."

He takes a sip from his glass then leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Nothing too interesting, just consults all day. Expectant mothers and a couple newborn checkups."

You hum, blinking slowly from across the table, and Miche has a feeling you want him to elaborate.

"One of the babies that came in today has a cleft palate, so we ended up scheduling his surgery."

"Oh, good!"

"Yeah, he's already a handsome little guy, but getting it repaired early on will lessen the likelihood of a big scar."

"He'll appreciate that when he's older."

You tell him about Jean wanting to specialize in plastic surgery, so, "He'll probably do a lot of those. That and boob jobs."

"Oh, most definitely. That's what Nile wanted to go into, but it was for all the wrong reasons." Miche has to laugh again. "It's a good thing he went into teaching instead. I have no doubt he'd have at least one malpractice suit lodged against him by now. At least."

Your face twists into a sour expression as you realize just what Miche is insinuating.

"Okay, ew. Did not wanna know that about my fucking professor, so thanks."

"I'm just saying. He can be a smarmy guy. He's probably stared at your—"

He stops himself right there, alarmed that he let himself even start that thought. Implying Nile has looked at your chest indirectly implies that Miche has too, and he can't have that, can't have you thinking he's some kind of pervert checking you out all the time. He has before—of course he has—but that doesn't mean he wants you to know about it because he's already ashamed as it is, and—

"Miche."

His wide eyes refocus to find you still sipping your drink, looking at him in question.

"You okay there? Look like you're about to stroke out or something."

"I'm fine. Just—"

"Thinkin' about my boobs?"

He nearly falls out of his chair, having to lean forward again and plant both feet on the ground, suddenly lightheaded as all his blood gathers in his cheeks rather than doing its job and oxygenating his whole body.

"Christ, no."

"I mean, they're nice boobs, it's okay," you giggle, glancing down at your own chest, covered by a tight little t-shirt, and fuck, now you're making him look. "I'm pretty fond of them myself, so like, can't really blame you."

Dragging a hand down his face, Miche tells you plainly, "You're killin' me here."

Sticking your tongue out between your teeth, you wink, then polish off your glass and stand up.

He assumes you'll wander back to the bar, order another fruity cocktail or maybe a water.

But no. You round the table, fingers gliding over the laminated wood as you go, and all Miche can do is watch until you stop right next to him and seat yourself right in his fucking lap.

His jaw drops, breath catching in his throat, and fuck, your hands are on his shoulders, and you're licking your lips, and uttering just loud enough to hear, "So, I've been meaning to talk to you about somethin' these past couple days?"

Miche's voice cracks when he replies, "What is it?" like he's suddenly going through puberty again. He doesn't quite know what to do with his arms and legs, scared that if he resituates himself in his chair, it'll cause you to rub against him, and that'll just be too much for him to handle right now.

Years ago, something like this wouldn't have fazed him much. He's had girlfriends, had flings, got used to women hitting on him in college which is good because now he knows how to keep a straight face when they do it in the workplace.

But, something about you, all flirty and bold, it's making Miche feel things he hasn't in a long time.

Then again, that's really how this all started, you sparking something inside of him that very first night and then stoking tiny flames when he had run into you again here.

So far, it's all been about remembering what it's like to develop feelings—real feelings—for someone, getting used to that fluttery sensation in his stomach and not being able to keep from smiling when he sees your name on his phone. That's what he's been focused on.

But right now, in this moment, he's trying very hard to focus on what is happening in his pants. Trying to keep it from happening.

"Mhm," you nod, your fingers sliding to the back of his neck and stroking just under his hairline.

If you're not careful…

No. No. He is an adult. He can handle this. He's not some little college boy with no self control.

Taking a deep breath, Miche sets his jaw. He does give himself the grace to set his hands on your hips, but once there, he doesn't move them, not so much as a twitch that could be construed as sensual.

"Go on, then."

So close to him, he can see the way your eyelashes fan over your cheeks every time you blink, how your lips part and your nostrils flare ever so slightly.

"So, um," you swallow, and for the first time tonight, the boldness fades quickly into shyness. "You've been great these last few months. Like, incredible. In so many different ways, and um…"

Miche waits patiently, not wanting to interrupt and ruin whatever little speech your beautiful, intoxicated brain has stewing in it.

"Well, you know, you've been helping so much—buying me things and helping me study, keeping me fed," you emphasize the last part, and Miche has to laugh.

"Couldn't just let you starve."

"No, I know, I know, just um…" You shift in his lap, getting impossibly closer, almost conspiratorial, and it has Miche biting back a groan. "Anyway, what I'm tryin' to say is that it's all kinda one-sided, don't ya' think?"

Frowning, Miche begins to shake his head, but the fingertips pressing into the back of his neck stop him.

"I wanna make it up to you somehow."

He has a pretty good idea of where this is going, and the thought alone makes his entire body heat up, but—

"You don't have to do anything," he sighs. "Just keep studying and pass your classes, and I'll be happy."

The noise of dissatisfaction that's pushed from your throat is adorable, but Miche knows better than to say so.

"Okay, but maybe I'm not happy," you pout. "Maybe I wanna change our arrangement."

"Arrangement, huh?"

"Is'at not what it is? Some unspoken agreement to let you take care of me?"

Mouth starting to run dry, Miche does his best to shrug, his grip on your waist tightening against his will.

"If that's what you want to call it—"

"I don't know what else to call it. Unless—" You're eyes flash, and Miche's stomach sinks and flips at the same time because that look, the way your lips are curling, you're about to do or say something that's going to unravel him.

"Unless what?"

Your sing-song giggle sounds anything but innocent, and Miche finds out why when you lean in closer to talk into his ear, secretive and sultry when you finish, "Unless you want me to start telling people you're my sugar daddy."

There's no tickle in his throat, but Miche still finds himself coughing, lungs tight, pants tighter, and he knows you can see his blush. Fuck, you can probably feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Is'at what you want me to call you?" You tease, tacking on another, "Daddy?" and this time Miche does groan, aroused and surprised by it because that's never been a thing for him, but coming from you, doe-eyed and devious, the weight of you in his lap, the press of you against his body…

It seems he's discovered something new about himself tonight.

He is a grown man, though. He recognizes what's happening, can acknowledge the fact that his control is slipping, and knows he needs to remedy that. Quickly.

Red faced and undeniably hard at this point, Miche sighs. It's still difficult to get his thoughts straight, but as he takes in your face, the hopeful look on it, the desperation to please, he knows what he has to do.

"You're drunk."

Leaning back, your hands fall lightly to his collarbones, and Miche thinks he sees a little bit of the heady fog in your gaze evaporate.

"I'm… flattered," he continues. "And, I don't want you to take this as a—a rejection, but I can't in good conscience let you make this offer and let myself enjoy—" he vaguely gesticulates at your body and his, "—this, enjoy you, while knowing you're not sober."

"But…"

Miche smiles, takes your face in his hands and brings it forward so that he can brush his lips over your forehead.

"How about we just revisit the conversation when you're not five drinks in, okay?"

Your chest heaves with a deep breath, and for a moment, he thinks you're going to try to argue with him, but all you do is nod and fall forward, resting your face in the crook of his neck and giving him goosebumps.

"Hey, Miche?" You mumble, and he can feel all three syllables against his skin.

"Hm?"

"Can we go back to your loft?"

It makes him pause for a second, Miche wondering if you're deciding to ignore everything he's just said to you, but he understands once you elaborate.

"Wanna sleep in your bed again."

He chuckles, rubbing your back. "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks," you sigh against him. "Daddy."

Miche's head falls to your shoulder, nothing left to defend himself other than an exasperated, "Fucking tease," that makes you laugh.

There's a weight spanning the length of your back, warm but not overwhelming. Still, it makes you stiffen, eyes suddenly wide open until you realize where you are—green blankets, brick walls, sun shining through the window—and recognize the weight over you as a very large dog.

Minnie.

A rustling further up makes you turn your head and, to your surprise, you find Remy curled up on one of Miche’s pillows, yawning and blinking dark sleepy eyes at you.

“And, just where did you come from?” You ask like he can reply.

Miche must have gone and picked him up which is just… so, incredibly heartwarming, even if it does mean he was in your apartment without you there. The fact that he not only thought of your little boy but put forth the effort to go get him—he’s just so good, taking care of Remy and taking care of you—

Sitting upright, you swear under your breath, everything from the night before rushing back, some good, most bad, and Jesus Christ, why couldn’t you have gotten drunk enough to have just blacked out? At least then if you’d made a fool of yourself, you wouldn’t be able to recall any of it.

Pressing your palms against your eyes, you try to steady your breathing, not that it works.

You came onto him. Strongly. You—oh, god, you called him daddy, what in the actual fuck is wrong with you?

The pressure in your chest feels like it could be either a laugh or a sob, little pinpricks of heat dancing up your neck as you experience the embarrassment you apparently failed to the night before.

How are you supposed to face him? How are you supposed to look him in the eye? There’s no question; you have to find a way because you need to fucking apologize after putting him in such an awkward position. You can’t even begin to imagine what must have been going through his head, how desperate you must have looked.

If you could just go back in time, shake yourself out of it, tell yourself, ‘hm, maybe getting drunk around this guy you have a massive crush on isn’t the best idea’.

Too late now.

Falling back into the bedding, you stare at the ceiling as you sift through the memories, how nice Miche had been about it, gentle even as he turned you down, probably feeling sorry for you.

He did say you could revisit the conversation, you muse, but you don’t think you have the lady balls for that, hence being drunk while bringing it up in the first place.

And again, your mind supplies another argument. Miche wasn’t exactly unaffected by what you had to say, or maybe it was how you said it, in his lap, speaking in his ear. If you think about it enough, you can still remember the heat that coursed through you when you felt his cock grow hard beneath you.

A natural bodily reaction. Of course he’d get aroused. The problem here is that he didn’t want to be, just wanted to hang out and talk, and you just had to go and throw yourself at him.

You go back and forth like this for a while, the dogs trying to snooze but obviously unable to as you keep them awake with all the nervous energy pouring from you, and when you hear the door open and close downstairs, your stomach sinks even further.

Voices carry upward, one you easily recognize as Miche’s, the other unfamiliar. It’s deep, rich with a sort of refined accent, sounds like someone who spent much of their life in country clubs or something of the like. It’s obviously one of Miche’s friends. The question is which one. Also, if they’re going to leave soon or if you’re gonna have to meet them right in the middle of your existential crisis.

A loud laugh rings out, startling both you and the dogs, and you hear Miche shush whoever it is through his own chuckle, “Dude, quiet, she’s still sleeping.”

With a deep sigh, you throw an arm over your face then call out a muffled, “No’m not.”

“Oh,” Miche hums, then, “Sorry.”

After a three second pep talk (come on, you can do this, get up and do this, you got this), you swing your legs over the side of the bed, noting your attire—plaid boxers and a large orange t-shirt, the image of what you’re pretty sure is a wizard faded almost beyond real recognition. You can barely make out the upside down lettering underneath—Dungeons & Dragons—but once translated, you shake your head. Fucking nerd.

For a while, you just sit at the edge of the bed, contemplating if it’s even worth changing to go downstairs. Miche has probably filled in whoever it is down there with him, so their expectations of you can’t be that high, but at the very least, you should tame your hair and brush your teeth. At the very least.

The ensuite bathroom is open, and when you turn the light on and glance at the counter, you break into a grin at the sight of your own hairbrush, toothbrush, deodorant, and perfume. He didn’t just grab Remy from your apartment, it seems. Everything here in front of you was in plain view of anyone who peeked into your bathroom, and boy, are you glad Miche did.

After making yourself somewhat presentable, you change back into your shorts from the night before but refuse to ditch the insanely comfortable, insanely geeky shirt, and pad down the staircase, Remy and Minnie hot on your heels.

They’re on the couch, two heads swiveling toward you and making you stop in your tracks. Miche grins immediately, something you do not understand because he really should be upset with you, definitely should not be caring for you as he apparently has been over the course of the night.

A couple cushions over, a man you do, in fact, recognize stands up and makes his way over to you. Golden hair, deep blue eyes, perfect smile. Yeah, you’ve seen pictures of this one.

“Hello, I’m—”

“Erwin,” you finish with a nod, holding your hand out. “Miche’s told me about you some.”

“All good things, I hope,” he says, that smile only widening.

It truly has been all good things, even the silly stories from med school and intern year. Apparently, Erwin used to be a lampshade drunk, and knowing that makes him slightly less intimidating as you shake his hand.

Because he's still impressive, a cardiothoracic surgeon, if you're not mistaken, and you—you are a baby in comparison.

"Not a bad bone in your body, the way he talks about you," you say, causing both Erwin and Miche to chuckle.

After a short introduction of your own, you let your eyes flick to the couch where Miche is sitting, Remy in his lap now, enjoying the fingers scratching behind his floppy ears.

"Hey, thanks for getting him last night. I didn't even hear you."

"Yeah, probably 'cause you were dead to the world as soon as you laid down."

A good thing, you think. Being asleep means you weren't able to humiliate yourself any more than you already had. Being asleep means being safe. In this instance, anyway.

“Was I snoring?”

Miche smirks. “You really want me to answer that?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, remind yourself that snoring is still better than humping his god damn leg, then shuffle into the kitchen for a glass of water. It takes you a second to find the right cabinet, and when you do, you have to stand on your tiptoes to actually reach a cup, but you manage to retrieve one.

“Tylenol is in the cabinet over the stove and to the right,” Miche calls out.

“I’m not hungover,” you laugh, pacing back out to join the two men. “Just thirsty.”

Erwin mumbles something suspiciously close to, “I bet you are,” but you’re okay with brushing it off, surely your ears deceive you. Miche, however, decides to kick his friend hard in the shin, only confirming the fact that yes—yes, that is exactly what just came out of this near stranger’s mouth, and yes, he meant it exactly the way you’re taking it.

You’re not gonna falter, though, not gonna let it get to you. Channel the bad bitch. Be the bad bitch. Don’t let him scare you away.

Locking eyes with Erwin, you remain straight faced as you take a long sip from your cup, letting out a satisfied, “Ah,” once you swallow. You won’t be the first to break, won’t be the first to look away, don’t even want to blink until Erwin finally starts laughing.

Turning to look at Miche, he mumbles something much quieter this time, making the other scoff before Miche levels his gaze at you, green and bright and just barely shining with something like irritation.

“Please just ignore him.”

Erwin snorts. “Good luck trying.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s—Anyway, um, you guys look like you’re about to do something or… something—”

“Game’s coming on in a little bit,” Miche supplies.

“Okay yeah, so I can just, like, get outta your hair.” Please, please let me get out of your hair. You are more than ready to disappear, only able to keep up the tough girl facade for maybe two minutes max.

Miche pushes himself off the couch after depositing Remy into Erwin’s lap, taking one long stride over to you, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning back just a little because he’s so tall and so gorgeous as he tilts his head down to look at you—you cannot believe you did what you did last night, your inner monologue turning to utter nonsense the longer you stare at him.

“Okay, so I can definitely drop you back off if you want,” he opens, and when his hands land on your shoulders, you gaze up at him in what just might be awe, fixating on the way his lips pull up on one side. Then, he’s turning you around and leading you closer to the front door where you see your backpack carefully perched on a low shelf. “Or, you can stay here for a while longer and let Erwin and me bother you until you can’t stand it anymore.”

“Fuck, what all did you grab from my apartment?” You laugh, focusing on that, otherwise you might scream because he is so cute, how can he be so fucking cute?

“Just what I thought you might need to spend the day here.”

You click your tongue, thinking for a moment. You don’t have class due to a professor being out sick (how dare he, if he had just not fallen ill, you wouldn’t have been drinking last night in the first place), but you do have a study session with your friends later this evening, probably at the usual coffee shop where you push two tables together and cover them with laptops and print-outs and spiral notebooks, ordering one tea after another or, if you’re feeling particularly tired, one espresso shot after another.

But oh, it’s so hard to say no to Miche when he’s looking at you the way he is, eyes the color of bubbling seafoam, hopeful, dancing with something you can’t place, and why—why does he want to keep you around? How is he not offended or disgusted with you? Why hadn’t he just left you at your own home instead of bringing you here last night?

“Okay, yeah,” you sigh, having to look away before you get completely lost in him. “But, I have to meet Jean and Marco and them at six tonight.”

“That’s fine. I can get you back by then.”

You grab your backpack, hauling it over to the couch but dropping to the ground right behind the little coffee table. You feel Miche sit behind you, to the side but still close enough that his calf brushes your arm. It’s stupid to try to study. You know you won’t get anywhere, but maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to retain something you haven’t yet.

Laptop open with a PowerPoint pulled up, blank notecards in front of you, you start scribbling away. You’re maybe four minutes in when you hear Erwin question, “Etiology, huh?”

You only respond with a short, “Yep,” intent on staying at least halfway focused.

“I remember those days,” he continues to muse.

Thankfully, Miche seems to either read your mind or body language and picks up where you can’t. “You want to help her out then?”

“Didn’t say that,” the other man laughs.

“Then let her study.”

Craning your neck, you look just far enough over your shoulder to see Miche wink at you and feel your entire body grow lighter. So, that’s what swooning feels like.

“Okay, okay, sorry, my god.”

And, you’re left alone for a while, unperturbed until the game they’ve been waiting for comes on. They don’t do anything on purpose, but anytime a team scores (which is not often), they both move and make noise. You’re too aware of the way Miche’s body tenses and relaxes, and somewhere along the way you start to lean against his leg more than simply sit beside it.

Erwin orders takeout for the three of you, and when it arrives, Miche gets up from the couch, fingers brushing the crown of your head as he does, and that shouldn’t make you shiver, but it does, makes you stare after him and release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding this whole time. Somewhere off to your left, Erwin snickers, but he doesn’t say anything, and that’s really all you can ask for at this point.

Another PowerPoint and a belly full of Chinese food later, you start packing your things up. Time went by surprisingly quickly, either because you actually managed to get caught up in the material or because time always seems to move faster when you’re around Miche.

After sliding your notes and laptop into your backpack, you go back upstairs to gather the other things Miche had brought to the loft for you, remembering at the last second to change back into your own shirt. It all worked out well considering when you get back to the den, the game seems to be over, Miche and Erwin both with smiles on their faces.

“Did we win at sportsball?” You joke, laughing in your throat when Erwin gawks at you. “Just kidding. I know it was Soccer.”

“Yes, we won,” Miche answers. “And, by we, I mean Liverpool.”

“Well, good for… Us. I guess.”

The three of you actually walk out together, Remy hopping in his harness as he goes. Erwin stops at the side of the road right next to a vintage Shelby Mustang, unlocking the door but only leaning against it. Before he can say whatever he’s about to, you turn to Miche, motioning toward the car and asking, “Okay, why can’t you have a car like that?”

Both of them laugh, Miche not missing a beat as he shoots, “Because I don’t like getting roadrash on my ass. You see how low that thing sits to the ground?”

“Okay, fair but… Look how pretty it is.”

Erwin is absolutely beaming, gently raps his knuckles just under the window as he thanks you. “She handles like a dream.”

“Yeah, how’s the gas mileage on it?” Miche challenges with a knowing grin.

“We don’t talk about that.”

The parting handshake with Erwin isn’t nearly as awkward as the first, polite as he tells you, “Lovely meeting you,” then, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe.”

He waves at Miche, bends to give Remy a little chin scratch, then slides into his beautiful car and drives away.

Which leaves you alone with Miche for the first time since last night, and wow, you kind of wish Erwin would turn around and come back.

“I promise he wasn’t always so annoying,” Miche says, and that at least makes you smile, but it does not get rid of the pit that’s opened up in your stomach.

“He really didn’t bother me,” you shrug. You start to walk toward the little lot behind the building where you know Miche parks, adding, “Besides, he’s friends with you, so he can’t be that bad.”

Miche makes an unsure noise, all high-pitched and non-committal. “I’ve been known to make questionable decisions before, and he might be one of them.”

“Questionable decisions,” you titter. “Yeah, same.”

Obviously.

You lapse into silence as you pile your things into the back of the car. Miche opens your door for you, checking, “You good?” and waiting for your nod before closing it. Then, he’s right next to you, starting the car with the push of a button and backing out of the lot.

The quiet remains, enveloping you both until Miche turns on the radio, and you’re able to breathe easier for a few minutes.

“Make any headway studying today?”

“Some. Probably get more done this evening with everyone else.”

“Yeah, won’t have two assholes right behind you clapping at a soccer game.”

“I promise y’all were not that bad.” Sitting that close to him is what really had you distracted.

Another pause in already stunted conversation has you itching to get out of your own skin. Even with your apartment being as close as it is, you don’t think you can spend the whole ride there doing this, so—

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it before I literally explode.”

“Ah, been waiting for this,” Miche grins, and you almost reach out to smack him, but your brain is already too busy with what you want to say to him, jumbled thoughts with no organization in sight, probably nothing more than word vomit, but god dammit, you’ve gotta try to let him know.

“I am so sorry about last night—”

“Don’t be.”

“I don’t even know why—I mean, no, I know why—I just don’t know what I was thinking—”

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten that sloppy around you, and I’m so, so—I’m fucking mortified, and I know you probably are too so—”

“Hey.”

You pause, only just realizing he’s been trying to get you to stop since you started. Looking at you from the corner of his eyes, Miche shows one of his soft smiles, the kind that makes your knees weak.

“I’m not about to hold it against you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m the one who fucking assaulted you.”

Miche laughs, looking genuinely amused. “You did not assault me, and even if you had, I’m pretty sure I could have handled myself.” He flexes the arm closest to you just to prove his point, showing off the way his shirt sleeve pulls tight around his bicep.

“Okay,” you squint at him. “No need for that.” Really just because the urge to reach out and squeeze the muscle is much too strong.

“I’m just saying. If I felt threatened or whatever you think I felt, I could have removed myself from the situation with ease.”

“I’m just sorry I made you uncomfortable, and don’t even try to tell me I didn’t because we both know that’s a lie.”

“You didn’t—”

“Miche, I will harm you.”

“Well, now I do feel a little threatened,” he mumbles.

You huff, he chuckles, then goes on to explain, “I’m not gonna say I wasn’t a little taken off guard, but it wasn’t something I—” Miche stops, seems to have to think for a moment as he makes a turn. “I didn’t dislike it. I stopped you because you were drunk, not because… Not because… Jesus, why is this so much harder now?” He chuckles quietly. “It’s not because I didn’t want it. Because I—I do. There. Fuck.”

Somewhere in the middle of all that, your heart started to beat too fast and too hard, and he has to be able to hear it. You surely do, louder than the music playing, louder than his voice, pounding in your ears, picking up pace with every second because, “You do?”

“Well, yeah, how could I not?”

There are many ways he could not, many reasons: you’re twenty-five, you’ve still got years of school left, you work at a dingy bar and don’t even make enough for a halfway decent living, you’re a sloppy drunk and a little bit of a brat, the list goes on and on.

Remy gets antsy as Miche pulls into a covered parking place, looks at you seriously and says, “Hold that thought,” before turning the car off and stepping outside.

He grabs your bag while you carry Remy, out of breath as you make your way up to your apartment, though it’s not from the stairs. You unlock the door, set Remy down as Miche walks to the couch where he places your backpack.

Then, you’re both looking at each other, full on, no road to distract you, just staring as you try to keep your body from shaking with the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Okay,” you exhale, hands beginning to tremble with nerves. “So, what… what exactly were you saying in the car?”

Bracing himself on the back of the couch, Miche rests against it and sucks his teeth in a thoughtful manner.

“I—look, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, or really—” he blows hair out of his face, lips forming a little grin afterward, but it looks about as confident as you feel. “—I guess a long time since I’ve been nervous about it.”

If this is what you think it is, it’s been a long time for you too. There was no confessing in your last relationship, only falling into bed with a boy at a party and going from there. This, with Miche, is about as opposite from that as you can get. This has been a growing thing from the start. This has a foundation, but is it stable enough to build on top of?

He must see the question in your eyes, the uncertainty and confusion, because his expression turns to one so tender, and the muscles in his forearms relax as does the rest of his body.

“Come here,” he nods at you, and your feet move on their own accord, carrying you over to him, closer and closer. Miche’s legs, previously crossed at the ankle where he’s leaning—sitting, you realize now—spread enough to allow you to stand between them, and with such little space between the two of you, both your brain and lungs seem to stop working at the same time.

The light green of his eyes is mesmerizing and comforting, lulling you into a state of security despite your alarming pulse. You admire the soft lines of his face, all etched there from happy times. The gray at his temples interweaves and blends well with the rest of his dark blond hair, a hint of silver in his beard as well, and everything about him is so handsome—sophisticated and rugged at the same time, like he doesn’t even have to try, and it leaves your stomach in knots.

“I am in new territory right now,” he admits, but as he does, he raises a hand to brush hair behind your ear, and you swear to god, you can feel your pupils dilate. “And, I think you might be too.” You nod but find yourself incapable of speaking, hands seeking purchase and finding it in the soft material of his t-shirt.

“For the record, I didn’t—I didn’t start talking to you because I wanted—In the grocery store, it wasn’t like I targeted you or anything.”

Finally, a laugh is pushed from your chest. “I know.”

“Okay, just making sure. Just know I didn’t plan any of this to happen. I didn’t plan… feelings.”

His face is red now, both of his cheeks as well as what you can see of his neck, and that brings you some relief because at least you’re not the only one freaking out a little.

“I…” You swallow, trying to get your mouth to work again and eventually succeeding. “I had an inkling I would probably catch them, I won’t even lie, but I didn’t ever think you... might… too.”

“You’re a lot more charming than you give yourself credit for.”

“Aw, shucks,” you giggle, and suddenly, Miche is pressing your face into his chest, which you can’t say you mind all that much. “Can’t look at me anymore?” You question, words muffled against t-shirt and pectoral. “‘m I that charming you can’t handle it?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles, and you loop your arms around his waist, squeezing as you hum. “I need to ask you something, though. For… clarification purposes.”

“Mkay.”

“Last night—”

“Oh, boy.”

You feel the rumble of laughter in his chest more than hear it.

“Last night the, uh… Offer you… Presented me with,” he starts, and you’re already long gone, trapped in a fit of embarrassed giggles—a panic response—and well on your way to perishing due to the amount of blood that’s pooling in your face. “I don’t know exactly what to make of it.”

“If I’m—oh man,” you have to wipe tears from your eyes, panting for a moment to catch your breath. “If I’m remembering correctly, I’m pretty—pretty sure I said I’d fuck you in return for you taking care of me.”

“Right, yes,” Miche’s voice comes out strained, and you begin to feel like you're coming back to yourself. “Is that—”

“Offer still on the table? Absolutely.”

“Jesus, shut—” Hand on the back of the head again, face smushed into pecs again. “Good to know, but not what I was about to ask.”

“Oh, okay,” you grin. “Carry on.”

“Thank you. Is that all you want out of this… What’d you call it last night?” He questions, but he remembers before you can speak up. “Oh, arrangement. Is that all you want out of our arrangement?”

“To be taken care of financially and in the bedroom?” Honestly, you surprise even yourself sometimes.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Is that all you’re looking for?”

“Well…” You push yourself away from his chest enough to stand a little straighter and look him in the eye, not that you can hold his gaze for long. He’s chewing on his lip, and you’re trying not to squirm too much, but it is difficult. “I mean, I—” Dropping your hands from behind his back, you instead start to toy with the hem of his shirt, timid all over again when you tell him, “I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask for.”

“I don’t either.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face, so open and honest. What could he possibly ask you for? What could he possibly want from you?

Part of you wishes you could be a little more poetic, have something romantic or flowery prepared for an occasion like this.

But, you aren’t, and you don’t, so you settle for raising to your tiptoes and tilting your head back, hoping Miche will get the idea and fill in the rest of the gap.

You’ve always known his hands are big, but when they cover your cheeks and curl to the back of your head, they feel especially huge. Miche has to stoop, but he doesn’t complain, just catches your lips with his, inhaling sharply through his nose and stealing what little breath you have left. He is firm and warm and gentle, his rhythm matching yours as you press against him, mouths moving just enough to get acquainted but not enough to taste.

When he pulls away, you try to follow, eyes still shut, seeking him out. You feel a tiny puff of warm air—his chuckle—dance across your lips before he gifts you with another, shorter kiss, then he straightens up and pulls you tight against him.

Fingers curled into his shirt, you hold him a little too tightly, lightheaded and unsteady on your feet.

That just happened. You just did that. He just did that.

And, now… Now, all you want is more.

Before you can suggest anything (or even look at him with any kind of salacious intent), your phone buzzes in your back pocket, startling you out of your dreamy, lustful haze.

"Hold please," you mumble, retrieving it and finding a message from Hitch.

>> hey girlypop, need me to come pick you up?

You weren't particularly keen on the idea of leaving Miche's to go study before, and now, standing so close to him, lips still tingling, you're even less inclined to go.

"Duty calls," he teases, then, noting your hesitance, adds, "We'll talk more later."

"Yeah?" You blink up at him, can't help but push, "Just talk?"

One of his eyebrows lifts in a warning that makes you shift your weight from one foot to another, a syrupy heat dripping down your spine when he tries to suppress a little smirk and fails to.

"We'll talk later," he reiterates. "Now, go get ready for your study sesh or whatever you guys call it."

You push your bottom lip out without thought, and he just barely brushes a thumb over it, clicking his tongue, then sliding out from his place between you and the couch. Flames lick upward from your stomach, and you watch through hooded eyes as Miche crouches to give Remy another pat on the head. He mutters something to the little dog, snickering as tiny claws scratch over his knee, then he’s upright again and reaching for the doorknob.

He really has you convinced that he’s just gonna leave like that, kiss you like he owns you then stride back out without another glance at you, but you should know better at this point, shouldn’t look so relieved when he pivots back around and demands more than asks, “Let me take you to dinner.” You blink. “Not tonight, obviously, but soon. Some place without sandwiches or liquor.”

“What if I want sandwiches and liquor?” You play.

“Then let me take you somewhere with gourmet sandwiches and liquor.”

You snort. “How fancy,” then tell him, “Thursday nights work best for me,” though you’re pretty sure he already knows that.

“Thursday,” he repeats, and he’s grinning and fumbling for the door handle because he won’t look away from you, and you want to kiss him again, want to kiss him so badly, you can’t stop yourself from skipping over to him and pulling him down for one more.

His palm slides over the small of your back as he bends, pressing your body harder against his so that you let out a happy little sigh and murmur against his lips, “Thursday.”

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #mels find a way

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Hero's Countdown | PJM (One)

Summary: Soulmates: The one you are bound to. In this world, you feel everything they feel. Their joy, their pain, everything. Once day you feel the most excruciating amount of pain only to find out your soulmate has died. What happens when the God’s of Time offer to turn back time so you can make things right and save your soulmates life?

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Genre: soulmates au, Gods au, fluff, smut, angst, crack

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: swearing, suicide, mentions of sex, oc is kinda a bitch

Notes: And the first chapter is finally here! Sorry it took so long!! I don’t know why I have been so nervous to post this…but It’s going to be a fun journey! Send an ask if you want to be added to a taglist or if you just want to chat:) (Remember this is all fictitious)

Taglist: @mawwnsterr @fancycollectormoon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 21

Pain. Excruciating pain. You feel it in your chest first, then the intense feeling travels from your beating heart to the tips of your fingers. You choke on air trying to compose yourself, but the pain is so unbelievably powerful that you struggle to catch your breath. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong. Your hand goes to your chest, you pull at your shirt as you try to breathe and then suddenly it stops. Just like that. Something happened. Something happened to him.

Soulmates: Two people with the soul connection who feel they are linked on a soul level in a significant or extraordinary way. In this world that means the person you are bound to. When you meet you feel an incredibly intense pull of instant recognition and intense attraction followed by intense emotions. And you feel everything they feel. Their joy, their pain, just everything if it’s considered intense. Physically and emotionally. And that doesn’t stop until you officially “connect” with your partner. What does that even mean? Connect? Does that mean fucking? That sounds like it means fucking. It probably means fucking. You don’t believe in all this bullshit though. The universes predestined bullshit can kiss. Your. Ass.

You’ve learned the hard way that even destined soulmates can’t always make it work…and leaving it up to fate leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. So you ignore fate. You do the very opposite of what fate wants. Fate is strong though and very hard to ignore. It pulls you in the direction of your soulmate constantly—quite literally. Whenever you get the urge, like urge to do something—like out of nowhere get the idea to visit the new bookstore down the block…even though you don’t care for reading. Yeah, that’s a sign that fate is trying to work its magic but you resist that god damn urge and do your own thing. And that’s just one example.

Feeling all your soulmates feelings wouldn’t be so horrible if the man you are destined to be with wasn’t so god damn emotional. Fucking Park Jimin. Yes, you’re well aware who your soulmate is…how else do you know how to avoid him so perfectly? As much as you can at least…considering… But he doesn’t seek you out either—thankfully. But you know he wants to. You can quite literally feel it…his yearning is so powerful it makes you nauseas. But he agreed to stay away. So now you live your life however you please! You have an amazing job that you love, a fantastic group of friends and a hot man you sex up on the regular. Things are good!

The only thing that isn’t good is that you still haven’t bought Isabelle a gift for her birthday party tonight. You’re walking on the sidewalk back to work from getting a coffee on this breezy Monday afternoon when you are hit with realization that you are the worst best friend ever. She always goes above and beyond for your birthday but you can’t even think of a decent gift for her! You listen to the click clack of your heels hitting the pavement as your mind wanders…what could you possibly get her that she doesn’t already have?

You feel your phone buzzing and speak of the devil.

“Hello?” You bring the phone to your ear and your coffee to your lips.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Julio to my birthday event? Because I just got a text from him asking if he needs to bring anything.” You hear your frazzled best friend on the other line.

“He’s my date tonight.” You say nonchalantly. “Come on, when you guys drink together you…kind of…get along.” You shrug even though she can’t see you.

“Good lord, y/n. You know I can’t stand him. I know he’s got “that good dick” but couldn’t we have went one night without him.” she whines into the phone and you chuckle.

“I’ll make sure he behaves.” You promise. “Now tell me,” you stop at a cross walk and wait for the little person to light up. “What the hell do you want for your birthday?”

“…classic y/n.” Isabelle sighs out, “Just do what you did last year and buy me yet another scarf for my collection.”

“Okay I’ve only bought you like three scarves.” You defend with a pout.

“Four actually, but okay.”

“I’ll just figure it out. See you tonight boo.”

“Fine, see you tonight.” And then you’re bringing the phone down and clicking the end button. Isabelle and Julio (your fuck buddy) don’t necessarily get along. They’re both too similar, you think. But neither will admit that. You’ve been seeing Julio for a few months now, it’s nothing serious of course. He has yet to meet his soulmate and you’re just totally against soulmates. So it makes for good sex.

You walk up to your building and take a deep breath, time to get back to work. You love your job, you really do. But you constantly put your job before your sanity. Because—

“Oh hey.”

Him. You felt him before you even saw him…that’s how strong the pull is. Fate is a funny thing. It brought you to this job, and it brought you to him. But instead of purposely choosing another path and avoiding him like the plague you chose to endure. Because you fucking love this job.

You write scripts for video games and it’s the most fulfilling thing in your life right now…yes even more fulfilling than Julio’s dick. But seeing him 5 days of the week and feeling how he yearns for you is really fucking your head up.

“I said don’t talk to me, remember?” you say with a tight smile. “Seeing you is hard enough.”

Jimin’s eyes soften as he looks at you and he offers an apologetic smile.

“Goodbye, y/n.” and he’s walking past you as he decides to take the stairs while your lazy ass waits for the elevator.

Pain. You feel his pain. And you wince at the overwhelming feeling. But you have to endure and move forward!

“Afternoon y/n.” Your boss comes up to you as you both wait for the elevator. “You got that new script ready for me?”

“Yes sir, I’ll bring it up to your desk before I leave work today.” You offer him one of your sweeter smiles and he brightens.

“Great!” he chuckles wholeheartedly and pats your back, then he’s walking forward once the elevator arrives.

You sigh out in relief that he didn’t question you further…because in truth, that script is not ready and you’re about to have to work your ass off for the rest of the day.

~~~~~

It’s pretty chilly for being an evening in the summer but hey, you won’t complain. It’s better than the blistering heat from a few days ago. You have the address on your phone for the restaurant you’re meeting Isabelle at for her birthday bash. The streets are busy as usual since the city never rests. You walk towards a group of people when you suddenly are hit with an intense feeling of…despair? God, it hurts. But it’s over just as quickly as it started. You compose yourself and continue walking…a few worried looks from strangers but you brush it off.

“She’s finally here!” Isabelle slurs out, “My best fucking friend bitches!”

“Oh my god who let her get drunk before dinner?” you ask, scratching the top of your head as Isabelle rushes to hug you.

“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.” She drunkenly giggles. “Hurry, hurry.” She ushers you to take a seat and you do. You plop down in the spot next to her, setting your birthday bag down on the ground.

“Another scarf?” she teases, pointing at the bag.

“And if it is?”

“Then I’ll love it you predictable bitch.”

“Hey gorgeous.” You feel a pair of lips kissing your cheek and you know just who they belong to.

“Hi.” You breathe out, “just getting here?” you ask and Julio nods his head yes.

“I didn’t want to get here way earlier than you…I wouldn’t have a friend to hang out with.” He playfully pouts, “But you’re here now.”

“Yes, now you have a friend.” You wink.

You’re about to speak again when another wave of pain hits you. You throw a hand over your racing heart and breathe out heavily.

“Hey, you okay?” Julio rubs your back, “y/n?”

And then it disappears as quickly as it came…

“Yeah, yeah.” You gasp out, “Jeez, wow.” You whisper. “I’m fine.”

Julio gives you a look of concern before he’s nodding his head slowly and turning his body to grab a drink.

“If you say so.” He mumbles.

You try to shake off these strange feelings, and try to have a good time. Isabelle is throwing back drink after drink and after dinner you join her. You begin to loosen up, the alcohol working its drunken magic on you. Isabelle is dancing on a table as the restaurants staff tries their best to get her down, you just watch and laugh like a maniac.

Everything is going good, really good…until pain.

“y/n? y/n?” You hear Julio call out for you desperately as you try to even out your breathing.

“Hey, you okay?” his voice sounds so distant, like he’s getting further and further away from you. “Get out of my way!” You now hear Isabelle’s voice, she’s pushing through the crowd that surrounds you. “I said, get out of my way!”

Then finally she’s at your side, you are heaving, you are struggling to breath. You feel your cheeks wet from the tears that managed to escape your eyes unknowingly.

What the fuck happened? What’s happening?

Finally, after several minutes of gasping for air, you manage to relax.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Isabelle looks at you with worried eyes, her hand on your back as you straighten yourself.

“Isabelle…I think something happened.”

“What?”

“It’s Jimin, I can feel it.”

Isabelle’s eyes widen and she nods her head in understanding. “Let’s get you home.”

“You have reached the voicemail box of…” you slam your phone down on your coffee table and sigh out in frustration. You have called Jimin maybe 10 times now but it just keeps going to voicemail. What the hell happened? Is he okay? This feels wrong, you feel wrong. You feel empty for some reason like someone stole your life away, like they sucked it right out of your body. You feel weak. You are barely able to move from the coffee table from how fucking weak you are.

You decide to call it a night, you will just confront Jimin at work tomorrow and ask what the hell happened. You drag your weak, weak body to your bed and try your hardest to fall asleep. But all you can think about is Jimin, he’s taking over your mind. Like, you can’t control it. You see images of him and images of his life, maybe you are just imagining it? But you’re sure these are images of his life…is that something soulmates can do? You toss and turn for hours, until finally you see the sky turn a dark blue and eventually the sun is rising.

You decide to just say fuck it, and get up. You’ll get to work early today. You have so much trouble getting ready, you feel ill. Like, a demon sucked you dry of your energy. But you endure because you really need to see Jimin today.

You grab a coffee on the way to work when you feel yourself being pulled into the direction of your office—Jimin must be there. You walk a little faster and when you finally reach the building you notice something is off. There’s groups of people gathered around the building and police officers inside, you walk in and see your boss talking to one of the officers.

“Oh y/n!” your boss calls out to you, his hand raised up to get your attention, and then he’s waving you over.

“Yes?” you look between him and the officer, “What’s up? What’s going on?”

“Did you know Park Jimin?” The officer gets straight to the point.

“I…do…” your eyes scan the inside of the building and you notice a couple of women that work in your office crying into each other’s arms.

“Do you know if something was going on his life? Something that could lead him to commit suicide?”

“C-Commit?” you look around the room again, you notice your boss looking antsy and the couple of women crying did happen to work in Jimin’s department.

“Yes mam, we understand this is difficult. But any information you have could be crucial. We need to make sure we can rule this out as suicide and not something more serious.”

“He loved his job.” Your boss cuts in nervously, “So it’s not because we didn’t treat him well or something…”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Commit suicide?”

“We found Park Jimin’s body this morning in his apartment. Overdose it seems. His elderly neighbor usually brings him breakfast in the mornings and when he didn’t answer she got concerned. She was shocked to say the least.”

“He-He’s dead?” you blink at the officer repeatedly, “He died?” you are in a state of shock yourself. There’s no way…you just saw him yesterday…but…but those waves of pain you felt then that huge wave that felt like…death itself.

“I think you’re wrong.” You say, in a state of denial now. “Jimin was just here…I just saw him yesterday.”

“Time of death is some time last night.” The officer confirms. “That’s her!” you hear the voice of a woman scream out. “That’s that bitch!” you turn around in a daze, trying to find the source of the screams.

“You fucking bitch!” you see a woman charging at you, screaming at the top of her lungs with her finger pointed in your direction.

“M-Me?” you point at yourself in confusion.

“He just…why couldn’t you give him a chance?” The woman breaks down, falling to her knees in front of you. “You’re his soulmate for fucks sake. This is all your fault!” She cries out, defeated.

You stand here, confused as hell. He told people? And how is this your fault?

“H-He’s not gone.” You say weakly, your shock still very fresh. “I’ll call him.” you quickly grab your phone from your pocket and dial Jimin’s number.

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

You gulp, trying again…

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

And again.

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

Fuck, why isn’t he answering? You start to panic now. You blink back growing tears, your body seems to be growing weaker and weaker.

“He’s just…”

“He’s dead!” she screams out, looking up into your eyes, her own eyes bubbled over with tears. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

The officer is helping the women off the floor and escorting her outside the building. You stand here in complete shock still, your body about to give out on you. There’s absolutely no way Jimin is dead. And there’s absolutely no way it’s your fault. Right?

~~~~~

Your limbs are so overwhelmingly heavy as you are draped over your sofa. You are unable to move. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat. You are unable to form sentences at this point, you feel drained. Completely drained. You still can’t believe the news. Jimin is gone. You don’t want to believe it but you do feel heartbroken…you feel so lost and empty and incomplete.

You close your eyes, hoping to drift off into a deep, deep sleep.

“We should let her sleep…”

“No! Girl needs to wake up and we need to get this show on the road!”

“Jin…”

“What? The more time she sleeps the more time she wastes.”

“We literally control time we can let her sleep for 5 more minutes.”

“Exactly, we control it so you know how precious it is, Namjoon.”

You swear you hear voices but you’re too fucking tired to open your eyes, they sound so far away…

“Listen I’m only letting her have these 5 minutes because girl needs her beauty sleep. Do you see those horrible dark circles?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Okay, she has like 30 seconds left and we are waking her ass up.”

“Fine.”

“Hey! Hey!” your shoulders are getting fucking rocked as somebody tries to wake you. “Wakey Wakey, hands off snakey!”

“She doesn’t have a snakey dude.” You hear another voice.

You slowly begin to open your eyes when you see a man with his hands on your shoulders. You scream. You scream bloody murder.

“Hey, woah, woah!” The guy puts his hands up in surrender. “Not going to hurt you!”

“We’re just here to talk.” The other voice cuts in, you snap your head to the side and notice another man. You scramble on the sofa, getting into a defensive position as you scream again.

“Have ourself a screamer, don’t we?” the first man winks, “Huh? Huh?” he opens his arms wide and shakes his head around. “No? Tough crowd.”

“Who the hell are you two? Take what you want! Please just leave me alone!”

“We don’t want anything and leaving you alone isn’t something we can do.” The second man says, he sighs out and crosses his arms. “Look, we need to talk.”

“Oh!” the first man quirks a brow, “We don’t want to take anything…no offense, maybe a little offense, but your apartment isn’t that ni—”

“Jin, now is not the time.”

“What the fuck is happening?” you yell out, “Who are you two?”

“Right.” The first man says, “Introductions. Should we just say who we are or should we do our little number that you refuse to rehearse?”

“We aren’t singing as our intros, Jin.”

“Why not? So unfair, Tae and Hobi do it.

“They’re a special breed.” The second man releases a long breath, “I’m Namjoon.”

“And I’m Jin.”

“And we’re—”

“The Gods of Time!”

You blink at the two psychopaths in your living room with your mouth wide open. What the fuck?

“How did you two get in here?!” you ask, deciding to ignore their little introduction.

“Walked through the front door.”

“But it’s locked—“”

“No, like literally.” Jin states, “We walked through it. Because we’re you know, Gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Did you just tell a God to shut the fuck up?” Jin grins, “Brave girl.”

“We have an order of business.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at Jin, “We need to talk.”

“We aren’t talking until you tell me how you got in my apartment! And what you fucking want!”

“He told you already,” Namjoon sighs, “We walked through the front door and we want to talk.”

“You walked through? Because you’re Gods? Right, like I’m supposed to believe that.” You huff out and Jin lights up with an idea.

“Here.” He’s suddenly handing you a knife. “Stab me.”

“What the fuck?” You hold the knife in your hand, where did he even get a knife so quickly? “I’m not going to stab you!”

“Just do it!”

“No!”

“Yeah, just do it.” Namjoon encourages you with a tired face.

“No!”

“Come on just a little stabby wabby.” Jin sings, “Come on!”

“Fine!” you stick the knife in Jin’s leg and he starts screaming in agony.

“What the hell!!!! Why would you really stab me?!?!? Oh MY GOD?!!!”

“YOU TOLD ME TO?!?!” you stand up in panic, rushing to his leg and seeing if it’s something serious.

“YOU MANIAC!!!! YOU REALLY STABBED—” then he’s laughing hysterically as Namjoon just claps his hands with an unimpressed face.

“Great performance Jin, but can we get to the point?”

“Performance?” you stutter, “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m a God. You think a little human knife can hurt me?”

“Wait, wait, wait! You really are okay? I stabbed you! Oh my god,” you start spiraling, “I stabbed someone.” You whisper. “Oh my god. Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

“Once again, we are God’s.” Namjoon states matter of fact. “Human weapons do not hurt us.”

Your eyes widen in complete shock, you look between the two men and start shaking your head—spiraling even further.

“God’s? God’s of what?” you breathe out. “This is…this is impossible.”

“God’s of time.” Jin snaps his fingers, “and do we have an offer for you.”

“W-What offer?” you plop down on your couch, your face has gone pale. What the hell is happening?

“Your soulmate, Park Jimin…” Namjoon begins. “Committed suicide last night.”

“And full offense girly, but it’s sort of your fault.” Jin chimes in. You feel your entire body go weak again.

“But we want to offer you something. We will roll back time by one month. Giving you the opportunity to make things right and save his life.”

“Turn back time?” you mumble, “That’s impossible.”

You watch as Jin rolls his eyes and with his pointer finger he’s making small circles.

“Turn back time?” You mumble, “That’s impossible.”

Suddenly you’re hit with Déjà vu. “Wait, didn’t I just say that?”

Jin grins and making small circles with his pointer finger again.

“Wait, didn’t I just say that?”

Your eyes go comically wide. “Woah. How did you do that?”

“God’s of Time, it’s literally our specialty.” Namjoon says.

“This girl really don’t listen.” Jin sits down on the couch next to you and you try scooting away.

“Okay…say you really can turn back time…why one month? And why are you giving me this chance?”

“One month because that’s how long it will take to change Jimin’s mind. And because…” Namjoon’s eyes slide to the side…”We were sort of pressured into this.”

“By who?”

Ding Dong

“Great, they’re here.” Jin whines, “I was hoping we would have more time with the human by ourselves.”

“Who’s here?” you start to panic, “Who pressured you?”

“Pressure? That’s not very nice to say.” You hear a new voice and it startles you. “Hi there.” You look up to see two new bodies in your living room. “We are—”

“Great, they’re going to sing.” Namjoon sighs. “On with it then.”

“Taehyung and Hoseok!” They say as melodically as possible, “God’s of Fate!” You swear you can see flowers and hearts and stars surround them.

“And we are not happy with you!” Taehyung dramatically pouts while pointing at you, “We have set up such a nice life for you but you always do the opposite. You really hurt our feelings.” Hoseok smiles a huge ass smile, ultimately confusing you further.

“God’s of fate?” you stand up and shake your head frantically. “What’s happening? What’s happening?”

“If you would have followed our path—the natural path—then you and Jimin would be happily together right now.” Taehyung lightly scolds you.

“But instead…” Hoseok begins, “You did the opposite of what we wanted and now look what happened.” He says with a smile still. “You messed with the natural order of things.”

“You’re saying it’s my fault? That Jimin is…”

“Didn’t I literally say it was your fault?” Jin questions and Namjoon swats his arm. “It’s okay though girly, we are offering you a chance to fix this. You can save his life.”

“He’s right y/n.” Namjoon walks closer to you, “You can save his life.”

You can save Jimin? How is this even possible? Suddenly, you hear faint knocking on your front door.

“Oh man. They’re here.” Taehyung looks towards the door.

“Well, we knew they would show up.”

“Who? Who?” you ask, clearly not ready for more guests.

“May I?” Hoseok gestures towards the door, asking if he can open it. You just shrug at this point.

Hoseok walks to the door and swings it open, revealing two more men.

“Oh if it isn’t mister sunshine and sunshine Junior.” The shorter man says under his breath as he walks past Hoseok and Taehyung. Another man following closely behind.

“We actually like those nicknames.” Taehyung says with a smile. “But yes, what are you doing here?”

“You know why we’re here.” The taller man smirks. “We have a soul we don’t intend on returning.”

“Who the fuck are you two?” you grit out, clearly tired of everyone at this point.

“Yoongi.” The shorter man states like he’s bored.

“And I’m Jungkook.”

“Okay? And?”

“Introduce yourselves properly you fools!” Jin yells out.

“Right right.” Yoongi nods his head subtlety, “God’s of Death.”

Your eyes widen in terror. God’s of Death? “So you kill people? Oh my god…you killed Jimin…”

“Okay, one… we don’t kill people.” Yoongi states and Jungkook jumps in.

“But we do like it when they die.” He says with big doe eyes and Yoongi’s expression changes like the realization has hit him.

“Yes,” he admits. “We do like that.”

“Actually we love it.” Jungkook pipes in again.

“Yes, we do love it.” Yoongi comments nonchalantly.

“And two… Jimin offed himself, we just wait to retrieve his soul.”

“His soul is all we’re interested in.” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “That’s all.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Taehyung mutters underneath his breath.

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on and why you all are in my apartment?”

“Damn girl, you really don’t listen.” Jin puts a hand on his hip.

Namjoon steps closer to you again and pats you on the back, urging you to take a seat.

“Taehyung and Hoseok are the God’s of fate, they want to bring you and Jimin together for your epic love or whatever…Jin and I may owe them a favor. So here we are, the God’s of Time…offering you a chance to turn back time and save Jimin’s life. But the God’s of Death over here…” he gestures towards Yoongi and Jungkook, Jungkook looks at you with a wink, “…don’t want that. They’re here to stop you so they can keep their soul like the soul hungry bastards they are.”

The other 5 men nod their heads in agreement as you look at each of them incredulously.

“And you expect me to believe this?” you wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and sigh out heavily, not believing a word.

“Should you stab me again?” Jin offers with a grin, showing you his little human knife you just stabbed him with earlier.

“What??” Jungkook slumps his shoulders, “Jin got stabbed and I missed it?” Jungkook frowns, “I always miss the good stuff…anyway, I vote you stab him again.”

“No!” you’re quick to yell out. “No more stabbing.”

Jungkook physically deflates once again, clearly disappointed.

“y/n…” Namjoon puts his hand on your shoulder, “Make your decision. Do you want to save Jimin or not?”

Of course you want to save Jimin…you don’t want someone you know dead, like come on. But what does it mean to save him?

“Follow our path.” Taehyung whispers to you, “The natural path.”

“You mean your predestined bullshit?” you spit out and Taehyung and Hoseok frown.

“It’s not bull…” then he whispers, “shit.”

“You can say cuss words sunshine junior.” Yoongi smirks, “come on, say ‘fuck’ just once.”

“No!” Taehyung whines

“Stop trying to make our Taehyungie do bad things!” Hoseok stands in front of Taehyung, defending him.

“I’ll say ‘fuck’.” Jungkook looks around the room raising his hand, offering his foul language.

“You already say it all the time, doesn’t count.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Get sunshine junior to say it though and I’ll give you 5 bucks.”

“Come on bro, say ‘fuck’ let me get 5 dollars.” Jungkook begs.

“Human money literally means nothing to us?” Jin questions.

“I still like to collect it.”

“Collecting souls isn’t enough?” Namjoon deadpans.

“I’m a collector, leave me alone.”

“More like a hoarder…” Yoongi cuts in, sighing out.

“Okay!” You stand, “Enough!”

“Finally, someone with some sense.” Namjoon says, “So are you taking us up on our offer? Going to save Jimin’s life?”

“Listen girly, take the offer. Be a hero. Because right now you’re technically the villain.” Jin says matter of fact, his hip poking out as his hand rests on it.

“Or live the life you want. It’s not your fault lover boy offed himself.” Yoongi walks closer to you. “He basically gave his soul for free.”

“You know Jimin was a good person…” Hoseok tells you, “You could feel it.”

You feel yourself grow guilty…this should be a no brainer right? You may not like the idea of soulmates but Jimin doesn’t deserve…this. He deserves to live.

“I’ll do it. I’ll make things right with Jimin, I’ll save his life.” Your firm voices echoes throughout the apartment and Jungkook scoffs.

“You think you can change his mind in a month? He’s set in stone, sweetheart.”

“One…gross, don’t call me sweetheart, and two, I can try.”

“Have fun trying with us by your side.” Yoongi states, a scowl taking over his face.

“She will have us buy her side as well.” Taehyung offers, “We will guide her every step of the way. You can rely on us, rely on fate.”

You roll your eyes, you don’t want any of these guys by your side.

“Is this your final decision?” Namjoon asks, he looks at you with a serious expression and you shudder.

“…Yes.”

“Did you hear that besties? Girl has made her final decision. Shall I do the honors?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. When you wake up y/n…it will be one month ago yesterday. Are you prepared for that?”

“Will I be aware?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Remember you have 30 days to make things right.” Namjoon reminds you and you nod your head.

“Okay, here we go!” Jin spins in circles and you all watch him …it’s lasting for several seconds too long, you grow confused. Jin keeps twirling around, doing little curtseys and now he’s doing the fucking robot…until Namjoon stands up.

“For heaven’s sake.” He uses his finger to spin in circles and things start fading to black, time slowly turning backwards.

May 21

It’s morning. You check your phone and it’s around 7am on Friday, May 21st. What the actual hell. It worked? You went back in time, right? This isn’t just some really incredible, elaborate prank right?

“If you’re thinking if this really happened…it did.” You hear Namjoon speak up from across your room.

“And if you’re thinking ‘wow these two super handsome guys really did that?’ we did.” Jin says hovering over you in bed. You can’t help but yelp, still surprised of their presence.

“Why are you guys here still?”

“Oh honey, it’s not just us.” Jin says matter of fact.

“It’s us too!” Hoseok says cheerily.

“Hoseok and Taehyung too?” you question slowly, your eyes scanning the room.

“Please,” Taehyung throws a hand over his heart, “Call us Hobi and Tae.”

“It’s just you four—”

“You really need to go grocery shopping.” Jungkook walks in the room with an apple in his hand, he brings it to his mouth and takes a crunchy bite.

“And as expected of the human world, the TV is trash.” Yoongi walks in after him, throwing your remote on your bed.

“Why the hell is everyone still here?” you yell out, grabbing at your hair. “I thought I was on a solo mission now!”

“Oh baby girl, it’s not just you anymore” Jungkook smirks, taking another obnoxious bite of his apple—your apple.

“Okay, if I didn’t want to be called sweetheart what makes you think baby girl is gonna pass?”

“I don’t know, thought I’d give it a shot.” He shrugs.

“Anyway,” you roll your eyes. “What do you mean it’s not just me?”

“You insist on saving Jimin’s life…we insist on keeping his soul. We have opposing goals here.” Yoongi explains, a bored expression drawn on his face. “We are going to make sure you are not successful. We can only interfere so much though.”

“And we,” Hobi cuts in, “Are here to make sure you are successful. You see, we are here to guide you on your little journey.”

“Think of us as your friends.” Tae grins at you.

“Yeah, I’d rather not.” You deadpan.

“And you two?” You point at Namjoon and Jin. “What is your purpose?”

“To make sure you don’t fuck up, to put it simply.” Jin states. “You do that a lo—Ow!” Namjoon hits Jin in the gut.

“What Jin is trying to say is, we are giving you a total of 3 mess ups. Once you strike through all 3, you’re on your own. We won’t manipulate time any more for a human like you.”

“A human like me?”

“I just mean, a human in general.” He clarifies and you relax.

“Can others see you?” You ask, quite curious. This whole thing is curious actually. You have 6 God’s chilling in your room right now and you are surprisingly chiller than you thought you’d be.

“They will…” Hobi’s eyes slide to the side. “Listen,” he sways on his feet. “We are going to be spending a lot of time together this next month so let’s all get along.” He smiles that big ass smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, let’s all get along!” Tae chirps, “Except maybe not with these two.” He points at Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook narrows his eyes at Tae and slumps his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you to say ‘fuck’ sunshine junior, mark my words.”

“Not likely.” Tae narrows his own eyes before he’s spinning on his heels to face you again happily. “y/n.” he sings out, “Our new companion!” Hobi joins in on his song, they both start humming and whistling and suddenly Hobi is rapping. It’s all too much, really.

“Yo yo yo, Jin is in the house too—OW!”

“Anyway,” Namjoon brings a small book from his pocket. “There’s rules. Just a couple.”

“Rules?” you mumble, “What rules?”

“Rule number 1,” Jin starts, “You can’t tell Jimin you’re aware of his suicidal thoughts—this can just have more negative effects. Keep his little secret.”

“And rule number 2,” Namjoon closes the little notebook. “You can’t tell anyone about us.” He gestures towards all 6 of them. “You have to swear on this book.”

“What happens if either of those things happen?” You ask.

“Oh they won’t girl.” Jin shakes his finger at you. “Once you swear on a God’s book…you are bound to secrecy. You will literally not be able to talk about it. Your mouth will physically shut.”

“Jin’s right.” Hobi says, “That’s the law of the God’s promises.”

“And you are promising to us.” Tae adds in.

“That’s just the way it is.” Yoongi comments nonchalantly as he picks at his nails.

“Fine, fine. I get it. I’ll swear on the book.” You get up from bed and walk towards Namjoon, you eye his little notebook and then you look at him incredulously.

“Book of the God’s my ass! You can buy this exact notebook from the dollar store!”

“I like human objects too.” He mumbles shyly, “But it is property of the God’s so…are you going to sign it or not?”

“Do I…do I have to like sign with my blood or some—”

“—Yes.” Jungkook says.

“No, no. Stop that Jungkook,” Namjoon pulls out a pen from his pocket. “Just a regular pen. Also probably from the dollar store you speak of.”

“Okay, I got it…” you grab the pen from him and sign your name to the paper. The notebook starts shining a bright gold, almost blinding you. Then the glow fades and you see your signature in gold letters.

“It is done.” Namjoon says, nodding at the others.

“We are going to be with you as much as possible.” Taehyung smiles at you, “So please take care of us.” He bows his head towards you and you wave him off.

“You guys do realize I still have to work right?”

“Oh,” Namjoon’s eyes slide to the side, “We are prepared for that.”

“How are you prepared for—”

~~~~~

You sit in your little cubicle in complete and utter shock, your jaw literally on the floor.

“And this is our new team of writers, editors, and soundtrack producers. They’ll be working on a new game that is still under wraps.” Your boss gestures towards 6 men. The same fucking 6 men that were just in your apartment. Can you even call them just men? They are God’s!

“Please introduce yourself to the rest of the staff.”

“Right, I am Namjoon in charge of writing along with my partner Jin—”

“Jin is me, yes hi. Call me Worldwide—Hey!” Namjoon swats Jin’s stomach. But Jin recovers quickly, blowing a kiss around the office.

“I’m Tae.” Tae brightly waves at everyone, “In charge of editing scripts. Please take care of me.”

“And I’m Hobi, also in charge of editing! Let’s get along everyone!”

“Yo. Names Yoongi.” He quietly says, waving like a shy child.

“I am Jungkook, I am single and I—”

“They’re in charge of soundtrack production.” Namjoon cuts in. “Nice to meet you all.”

The office starts to quietly applaud, nodding their heads in approval as you sit here with your jaw on the floor. There is no way…absolutely no way this is happening.

“Ah, y/n!” Your boss calls out for you, he’s already walking to your desk. “Namjoon here says you all know each other, so I would like for you to help get them get settled in.” The group of 6 men follow behind him. You look at Namjoon like he is absolutely insane.

“Help them how?” you ask quietly. “Like, show them where the coffee maker is? Oh, look. Its right over there.” You point to the left of you. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh y/n! You’re so funny!” Jin slaps his knee, “I need help with some formatting on the first script I have…apparently you know a thing or two about that.” He grins at you and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry…” Hobi begins, his eyes looking around the office. “We won’t just rely on you for help around here…ah! There he is!” Hobi nudges Tae shoulder. “Jimin!” he begins waving the man over.

Jimin looks around the office as if he isn’t the only one with that name. He points at himself and mouths ‘me?’ Hobi and Tae smile widely and nod their heads in unison as they wave him over.

“Yes?” Jimin walks up to you all, his eyes on you…he feels himself grow nervous. “Can I help you?”

“Actually yes.” Tae starts, “Boss man here says you’re an editor just like us, maybe you can show us the ropes.”

“Ah.” Jimin slowly nods his head with his mouth slightly open. “I see.” Then he is nervously looking at you again. “Is that okay? For us all to be working together?” he looks at you while asking this and you scoff.

“I don’t control your life Jimin, do what you want.” You spit out and Jin hits your arm.

“What she means to say is, yes of course we can all work together!” he sings.

You release a long breath, remembering you are on a mission. You muster the fakest smile you can and make eye contact with Jimin.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” You continue to grin and Jimin scrunches his brows as he slowly nods his head again.

“O...kay…”

Hobi jumps in excitement and repeatedly hits Tae’s arm, like he just got an amazing idea.

“Why don’t we all go out tonight to celebrate?”

“What are we celebrating?” you deadpan but Jin hits your arm again and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Remember…fate is guiding you. Do as they say.” He says through a tight lip smile.

“Yeah…” you find the energy to say, “Sounds fun…let’s do that.”

You hate this. You are only barely talking to Jimin but you can feel the pull intensify with every word you say to him and every word he speaks to you goes straight to your heart and your fucking vagina.

To call Jimin attractive is an understatement. He is beyond that…he is beyond handsome, beyond cute, beyond gorgeous and beyond sexy. He has a charming way about him, his sharp jawline, his smile with those full, full lips, his eyes. He is effortlessly beautiful…and it drives you absolutely insane.

You remember the first time you saw Jimin…love at first sight? Also an understatement.

He was blonde then. His hair swept across his forehead, you would almost think that was his natural color because it looked that god damn good on him. Now his hair is black and holy hell, it is also his color. But you might think any color is.

“Celebrate how?” Jimin speaks up, his eyes going to Hobi.

“Drinks!” Tae chimes in, “But only one because we all have to work in the morning.” He chuckles and the rest of the boys join in.

“I don’t believe in hangovers.” Jungkook says with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk gracing his features.

“You literally had one like 3 days ago.” Yoongi comments, “You also said ‘I’m never drinking again’”

“That was a different Jungkook.” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I’ve matured since then.”

“Yeah, right.” You laugh. “Also you guys realize tomorrow is Saturday…”

You actually laugh and the 7 boys snap their heads towards you and smile. All but Jimin…and kind of Yoongi.

“What?”

“You can laugh!!!” Jin takes your hand and high fives himself with it. “Amazing.”

“And you laughed because of me!” Jungkook cheers. “God, I knew I was fucking hilarious.”

“Chill out, kid.” Yoongi shakes his head.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “There’s a bar in the building next to us. We can meet at 7.”

“Actually let’s meet right after work, we can all walk together.” Hobi looks at you knowingly and you roll your eyes.

“Right. Okay, after work then.”

“Sure…” Jimin says slowly, “I will meet you guys here then.” Then he’s taking one last look at you before walking away back to his side of the office.

“Are you guys fucking insane?!” You whisper shout towards the 6 gods. “You work here now?!”

“We have to keep an eye on you and make sure everything goes smoothly…” Tae pouts, he messes with his neck tie nervously. “I even bought these cool human clothes…I thought maybe you would notice.”

“Yeah, yeah. You look nice.” You gesture towards his body and you swear you can see puppy dog ears and tail wagging behind him from how happy he is.

“What about me? What about me?” Jin motions towards his own body as he winks at you.

“You? Fine you look nice too.”

Jungkook slowly walks in the middle of your circle and shows off his outfit to all of you, spinning in a few circles.

“And me baby girl?”

“Call me baby girl one more time and I swear I will kick—”

“Jeez, no need to be aggressive!” Jungkook puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ll take the L for now.”

“Namjoon, please say something as the only person here who is sane.” You turn to face Namjoon and he is looking down at his own outfit.

“Human clothes are so boring.” Is all he says.

You can’t help but groan…then you feel it. Eyes on you. Not just any eyes. His eyes. You follow the feeling until your eyes meet his, he immediately looks away and you feel a sense of guilt. Jimin is going to kill himself? And it’s supposedly your fault? Can you fix this? Can you change his mind? Can you save his life? Can you?

~~~~~

The bar is quiet, well it is only like 5pm. But you assume in the coming hours it will be booming thanks to it being a Friday night. You are seated between Tae and Hobi as they fill your mind with thoughts of Jimin while he is in the bathroom.

“Can’t you just feel how badly he wants to sit next to you? His jealousy that you’re between us?” Tae giggles. “I can’t technically feel his yearning like you can but dudes, it’s so obvious.”

“I get it, I get it.” You groan, “So what’s the plan?”

“Oh that? You are going to ask Jimin out on a date.”

“A d-date?!” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Not at all…” Hobi takes a sip of his beer with a fucking straw. “Trust us.”

You’re really about to trust mister sunshine and sunshine junior? They are drinking their beers with straws. Fucking straws.

“ You don’t owe Jimin anything.” You hear Yoongi’s voice from behind you. “You don’t want to be here y/n. Why are you forcing yourself?”

“She just wanted to hang with me.” Jungkook nudges Tae out of his barstool seat and takes it.

“Heeeey…” Tae pouts as he is left standing, watching Jungkook take his chair. “I was sitting there.”

“Say ‘fuck’ and I’ll give it back.”

“You’re mean.”

“Anyway,” you cut them off before they can continue, “Why do you want his soul so bad? Aren’t there more souls out there?”

Yoongi for the first time curls his lips upwards and smirks at you.

“Jimin is a pure soul. It’s worth more. And he gave it for free, his own will. That much more worth it.”

“Pure soul?” You raise a brow, is Jimin really that perfect? You can’t help but scoff.

“He’s a really good person, y/n.” Hobi says softly, “You know you can feel that.”

He’s right. When you first met him and you had that instant recognition, you could feel just how good he is. It hurt even more, considering how things went…

“I have shots!!!!” Jin comes up to you 5 with a tray of shots, “As the kids say, I am trying to get lit!”

“Barely anyone says that anymore dude.” Jungkook frowns, “Which is unfortunate because it… was…lit...”

“Where’s Jimin?” Namjoon asks, grabbing a shot from the tray, he takes a sniff and fake gags.

“Jesus Christ, I told you anything but Tequila, Jin.”

“He’s in the bathroom…” you say, your head falling in your hand on the bar top. You stare at all the bottles on the shelves and wish you could drown yourself in each one.

“I’m back.” Jimin says from beside you and Jungkook.

It looks like he washed his face with cool water, his bangs slightly wet. He’s nervous, you can quite literally feel it…that’s how intense it is.

“Jimin…” you say his name and it sounds and feels so weird on your tongue, his head whips in your direction with wide eyes and he tilts his head to the side.

“Yes?”

You two lock eyes, his gaze is intense. You can’t help but feel like you’re falling for some sort of spell as you stare at him. The pull between you two only grows…you find yourself leaning in closer to his direction before you’re shaking your head, clearing your throat and looking towards the other boys.

“Uh, there’s shots.” You point at the tray Jin is holding. “Let’s hurry up and take them.”

A few hours pass and your group is collectively drunk. Jimin seems to be the only somewhat sober one. Even Yoongi is shimmying to whatever song is playing! You look at Namjoon who is smiling at Jin as they talk to one another and you wave them over.

“I thought human things didn’t effect God’s? Why are you all so drunk?” you laugh, slurring your words.

“Alcohol is alcohol baybey!” Jin throws an arm around your neck as he continues to dance.

“Jin is right.” Namjoon points at him, “Alcohol is the same for us.”

You only nod in response as you eye the bar, Hobi and Tae are dancing with Jimin and he actually looks like he is enjoying himself. You stand from your stool and walk to the dance floor and join them, surprising Jimin.

“Came to hang out with the fun go—guys?!” Hobi moves his body expertly as he speaks.

“Just came to talk to Jimin…” you admit shyly and Hobi and Tae nod in understanding with their eyes wide.

“Good idea.” Tae yells out, “We will keep Yoongi and Jungkook distracted.”

“Thanks…”

“You want to talk to me?” Jimin says over the music, “Me?” he points at himself and you chuckle.

“Yes, you.” You reach down to grab his hand and fuck. You feel like you are being shot with electricity. “Uh,” you quickly drop his hand and gesture for him to follow you. “Come on.”

You and Jimin walk outside the bar, the night is a little chilly, even for May.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks nervously, he sways back and forth on his heels and you can feel his anxiety and it’s making you nauseas.

“Go on a date with me.” You blurt out.

Jimin is silent. His eyes harden as he stares at you and he breathes out roughly.

“You’re drunk.” He states.

“Don’t be difficult.” You begin, “Go on a date with—”

“No.”

“No?”

“You think I can’t feel it?” he asks quietly. “How much you…hate me…?”

You automatically get hit with a wave of guilt. He releases a few shaky breaths and continues. “You are forcing yourself…I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable around me.” He gives you a sad, soft smile and turns around to head back inside, leaving you out in the chilly May air.

“I thought you guys were fucking gods? I did what you told me and he fucking rejected me?!” you slur out angrily. Tae and Hobi exchange awkward glances before smiling for you.

“You have to put a lot of effort. Remember…you are working hard to change his whole mind. It isn’t going to be easy y/n. Even with us helping. We lead you on the right path but ultimately you humans do have free will.” Hobi says quietly, he looks around the bar to make sure no one can hear.

“And like Jungkook said…at this moment, Jimin is set in stone. It’s going to take some convincing.” Tae finishes. He messes with his neck tie some more before he is loosening it all the way. “And you better hurry to talk to him because he is with Yoongi and Jungkook. Who knows what nonsense they are feeding him!”

You look over your shoulder and Tae is right, Yoongi and Jungkook both have an arm draped over Jimin’s shoulders and chatting away. They both have sly smiles as Jimin nods his head in drunken concentration.

“Help me get rid of them…” you roll your eyes as you begin walking towards the God’s of death and their meal.

“You got it!” Hobi yells out brightly. “Let’s go TaeTae.” He grabs on to Tae’s arm and drags him towards the death gods. You follow closely behind eyeing Jimin carefully.

It’s a lovely spring day, the flowers are in bloom and the sky is blue with splashes of pink now that the sun is beginning to set. You finally found your dream job that you start in 2 weeks and an affordable apartment. It’s not thaaat much nicer than your previous place but still, an upgrade nonetheless.

Today you woke up feeling…different. Fuller, more whole. Something completely unexplainable. Once you stepped outside even the world looked more beautiful, colorful, vibrant. Your chest is warm and buzzing and you can’t help but fall in love with the feeling. What is going on?

You walk the streets in your restless city and you feel it. The pull. The pull is practically dragging you around without you totally realizing. You just walk the streets in a daze, the pull becomes more and more intense the closer you get to the main park downtown. You realize you don’t visit this park often which is such a shame because it is beautiful.

You stroll around, feeling yourself being pulled closer and closer to this gigantic tree in the center and then you feel your insides burst. Your eyes land on a figure, you can only see his back but you just know. He must feel it too because he is quickly turning his body around and facing you. His eyes find yours immediately and holy fuck.

You know him. As soon as your eyes meet you feel like you fucking know him. You feel yourself being drawn to him like there is spell you are both under. You don’t stop your feet from moving as you walk closer and closer. He only stares at you with wide eyes until his thick lips curve up into the most beautiful smile you have ever seen. Little did you know, this would be the only time you will see him smile like this.

Love at first sight? He is the most gorgeous human being you have ever had the pleasure of your eyes landing on. His blond hair swept over his forehead, his piercing eyes, his full lips, his entire figure. His beautiful, beautiful smile. He has charmed you. And it doesn’t help that you feel that instant attraction. That recognition and the intense, intense burst of love you feel.

But it is not your love that you are feeling. It is his. Because you feeling love for a someone you don’t actually know is impossible…that this is just some forced, predestined façade. And you are hit with the reality and the truth. You feel your insides turn from a gooey mess to hard. You feel yourself grow angry, you feel hatred grow within you and it must be intense because Jimin must feel it too. The way his smile drops and how his face goes pale. He takes a hesitant step away from you and looks at you with so much question. He feels how you loathe him.

You continue to look at Jimin as you walk closer and closer to him in the bar, Tae and Hobi pulling Yoongi and Jungkook off his body as you make your way over. Even walking closer and closer to him you feel all of your confusing feelings. You hate him yet you are drawn to him.

“Jimin.” You say his name, it comes out rough and breathless and he pinches his brows together.

“Yes?” he asks softly, he walks closer to you as well. “Is everything okay y/n?”

You swallow down your pride as you stare into his eyes. They look sad…empty even.

“Date…” you murmur. Jimin’s sad, empty eyes flash with a sliver a hope before they turn dark again.

“Why?” he finally asks…he walks just a bit closer to you and you step back, feeling suffocated. If he gets any closer you…

“I want to make things right.” You admit between a few breaths, “I want to get to know you.”

You aren’t lying, you do want to make things right. He doesn’t necessarily know what you mean but that’s okay. “I haven’t been the nicest to you but I want to change that.” You mumble.

“You want to know me?” he gulps, “You want to…spend time with me?” you can feel how nervous he is and you can’t help but chuckle just a bit.

“Coffee? We can start there.” You say, feeling your own nerves spiking. Who knew talking to your fucking soulmate could be this hard.

Jimin bites down on his thick bottom lip, his cheeks warming up as they turn a lovely shade of pink.

“Okay….” He says, trying to hide his growing smile “Coffee.”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #gods!au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #the hero's countdown chapter 1

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just-come-baek · 4 years

Text

Merry Crisis

Pairing: hockeyplayer!jungkook x pickpocket!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | sports!au | christmas!au | yyy... action?

Word count: 12k

Summary: During a casual meeting with friends at a local ice rink, a handsome boy bumps into me. Though it was just a small accident, a series of extraordinary adventures follow, helping me realize I should really change some of my life choices.

A/N if you get uncomfortable during this story, just stop reading. it gets weird later on. Also, sorry for posting it so late, it’s still Christmas somewhere!

4 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kibum asked for the tenth time as he nearly slipped, even though his hands were glued to the railing. “None of us can skate for fuck’s sake,” he remarked, not being careful enough to watch his tongue, letting children hear his foul language. “We should’ve gone drinking mulled vine instead of this nonsense.”

“Speak for yourself. I am a decent skater,” I argued, though it was maybe my third time on the ice rink. The surface was slippery, yet I was brave enough to try my luck without sticking to the railing at all times.

Whoosh!

Kibum and I turned our heads around to see a few men racing on the rink like lunatics going probably at least two thousand miles per hour. They were skating so fast we barely could get a blurry image of their backs – fucking show-offs.

“Can you believe it? Fucking road hogs wanting to kill us all,” Kibum complained, searching for an exit with his eyes, desperate to get the hell away from the ice rink. “I’ve seen enough TV to know how this ends. Someone is going to leave this paddock with a blade in their neck,” he added, and I cursed in disgust, trying to erase the vivid picture my mind conjured.

“You really can ruin everything, can’t you?”

“Isn’t why you brought me here in the first place?” Kibum challenged, readjusting his woolen scarf around his neck in a fabulous diva manner. “Come on, go get Yeri. I’ll wait on the bench,” he ordered, clumsily escaping that icy trap.

“I think your cousin wouldn’t appreciate me going over there,” I stated, spotting her on the other side of the rink, flirting with a cute guy. “Now, that would be so cruel,” I added, leaning over the railing, staring at Kibum ineptly wobbling to the bench.

“What?” Kibum barked in an over-protecting manner, looking for the unworthy punk wasting Yeri’s time. “Just bring her here, please. I’m gonna treat you to lunch.”

“You should’ve said that earlier. I’m on it,” I said, content with how much I stalled the conversation to get a free meal from Kibum for completing such an easy task.

Having pushed myself off the railing, I made my way towards Yeri. She was basically at the opposite end of the ice rink, so I was forced to skate around lovely-dovey couples in the rhythm of overhyped Christmas songs.

Halfway there, the DJ ordered changing directions, so with a loud groan, I obediently turned around. Unfortunately, one of the speeding men didn’t halt quick enough and smashed right into me, ungracefully knocking me into the ice.

Crash!

It was a painful fall for both of us. If it wasn’t for the beanie with a big fluffy faux ball at the top of it, I’d most likely end up in hospital with a third-degree concussion and possible skull fraction.

Though I was in a mild shock, I could feel a nearing headache and blood dripping down my chin after his forehead collided against my nose. With his knee sharply boring into my thigh, I whined, trying to push him off of me.

At this point, I didn’t care about his injuries. He was the one who bumped into me in the first place; he deserved all the pain he was experiencing. Hopefully, it was similar to mine. According to Newton’s third law of motion, he ought to feel the same amount of pain, and if he sensed it any less, I was about to become livid about the lie I had been told at school.

“Get off of me!” I yelled, once again trying to shove him to the side. Huffing in defeat, I accepted my death by freezing my ass off due to a motionless pile of muscles lying on top of me. “Dude, move,” I tried again, and the man winced, sliding to the side.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, whimpering in ache. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” I remarked, trying to sit up. However, as soon as I was in a sitting position, I started to feel dizzy – the surroundings just kept spinning in front of my eyes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Two men and Yeri scared in unison as they made their way towards us. “It was quite a fall,” one of them added, making me roll my eyes. His friend literally smashed me off the ice like a bulldozer – I wouldn’t call it a fall.

“She’s bleeding,” Yeri mentioned, looking for a bag of single-use handkerchiefs to give me one to aid my problem.

“How many fingers do you see?” the other man leaned over, showing me his palm, and I swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. “You’ve hit her bad, Jungkook. Good luck apologizing to her,” he commented, making it really difficult for me not to kick him in the shin with the blade.

“Is this a joke to you?” Yeri challenged the man, not particularly enjoying his comment. Attagirl! “You better make yourself useful and carry them off the rink,” she ordered sternly, her voice laced with concern.

“Hold on, beautiful,” the shorter one said before he bent to pick me up and wrap his arms around my shoulders to carefully escort me out of the ice rink. Slowly, we staggered to the benches where the man helped me sit down. “I’m Jimin, and you are?”

“In a tremendous amount of pain,” I replied, massaging my head, trying to ease the throbbing. I was about to get a headache of a century, and they kept asking me these stupid questions.

“I’m fine, Hoseok, put me down,” the man, who had smashed into me, complained as his friends dropped him at the bench beside me. “I’ve been through worse,” he groaned, and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my instinct to cause another scene.

Thankfully, I’ve got Kibum, who would channel his inner Karen to argue for me.

“You stupid fucks, look what you’ve done!” Kibum yelled, hitting Jungkook in the back of his head, making everyone gasp in shock. “What were you thinking, skating this fast? You’re lucky she didn’t end up with a blade stuck in her throat, or else, I’d have to murder you!”

“Guys, stop shouting,” I whispered, barely withstanding the pain. “Can we please go somewhere quiet?”

On cue, Kibum and Yeri went to get my stuff. At the same time, Jungkook’s friends walked away from us to get their belongings, leaving me alone with the villain himself.

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook apologized once again, being considerate enough to volume down his words. “Come on. Let me help you,” he stood up, offering his hand to escort me out of the tent. Unwillingly, I grabbed his palm, allowing him to save me from random shouts of joy and repetitive Christmas hits.

Once outside, I felt a little bit better, but it was still far from perfect.

“How are you feeling? Should I take you to a hospital?” Jungkook inquired as he looked into my eyes, trying to detect any lie.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll just walk it off,” I shook my head, trying to stand up to demonstrate my current state. Unfortunately, I was still a little bit shaken after the fall, almost collapsing onto the ground. “On a second thought, I’m gonna sit here for a while,” I added, sheepishly, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness.

In silence, Jungkook and I started at each other, unsure what to do or say next. We were just two strangers who participated in an accident. Our friends were nowhere to be found, giving zero fucks about the uncomfortable moment between us.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Jungkook suddenly asked, making me crease my eyebrow in confusion. What did he need my phone number for? “When there’s a car accident, both parties exchange contact info to work out a settlement,” Jungkook explained, and I sighed, trying to digest what he just said. Apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Please, don’t sue me,” he added with a light-hearted giggle to his tone as he sat down on the bench.

“I didn’t plan on doing that, but since you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about it,” I teased, reaching into my coat’s pocket to get my phone. “Give me your number, I’ll ring you,” I muttered, carefully typing Jungkook’s digits into my device. After a few seconds, Jungkook’s phone vibrated, flashing my number.

“Under what name did you save me?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, looking over my shoulder, cackling when he read totally suing this guy on the screen. “Well… at least you didn’t save me under do not pick up the phone, so that’s a relief,” he added, laughing at his joke.

Though I was a little bit curious how Jungkook saved my number, ultimately, I decided not to entertain this impulse. After all, the chances of him actually calling me were slim, if not none.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked, but before I managed to give him a proper reply, Kibum shouted it loud and clear from afar. “Duly noted,” he added with a tiny grin.

Along with Yeri and Jungkook’s friends, he made his way toward us, having the guys carry all our stuff like indebted servants.

“You’ll never guess,” Kibum stated, plopping on the bench beside me. At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for charades, so I just rolled my eyes, failing to accordingly react to Kibum’s attempted suspense.

Thankfully, Yuri chimed in, revealing the big plan. “We’ve talked to the guys, and they proposed to treat all of us to dinner. The race was their idea, so they figured it’s one way to make it up to you for you know what,” Yuri explained, and I sighed.

Hooray!

That’s exactly what I needed, to spend more time with the asshole that slammed into me with the force of a hundred horses.

Perfectly splendid.

“Sure, that sounds amazing,” I replied through gritted teeth, staring at that cheap bastard Kibum. He owed me dinner, so he used his sly manipulation to guilt-trip these naïve boys into treating all of us for a meal.

“See? I told you guys she doesn’t hold grudges against people who provide her with food,” Kibum answered, not surprising me all that much. I was accustomed to his ways. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, on the other hand, were about to get exploited to Kibum’s heart’s content.

But hey, free food, there’s no way I’d say no to that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the alley, looking for a restaurant or a diner that was able to provide a table for six. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side.

It was a long stroll. All establishments were either packed with people, or they simply weren’t capable of catering for such a large group like ours.

We didn’t give up, though. In pairs, we walked further, our stomachs growling louder and louder. Hoseok and Jimin were leading the way, chatting about some hockey game somewhat this week. Right behind, Kibum was giving a lecture on relationships to Yeri, being the highly unnecessary third parent to her. And lastly, there was Jungkook and me, awkwardly trailing behind all of them, talking about nothing in particular, unable to find a ground topic for a proper conversation.

At some point, a man in an expensive black coat bumped into me, smashing his shoulder against mine. It was quite a powerful collision on the sidewalk, resulting in me falling right into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going,” I yelled, massaging my limb to ease the soreness, while the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to my angry shout.

“Hey, you should really apologize,” Jungkook hollered at the man, standing up for me. Unfortunately, the man didn’t reflect his misbehavior even after Jungkook stepped in. He barely turned his head around to check what that was about, dismissing it a few seconds later.

“Let it go; he’s not worth it,” I wrapped my hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, stopping him from confronting the rude asshat. “Karma is gonna get him,” I added with a smirk upon my face as I imagined how much cash he had in his wallet – which, in fact, was at the bottom of my pocket right now.

It ought to teach him a lesson.

“It’s your unlucky day,” Jungkook admitted, feeling sorry for my misfortune.

“Well… it’s not that bad,” I assured Jungkook with a happy beam, realizing my mistake the second the words left my mouth. Fantastic, I was just enthusiastic about the cash I found lying all over the ground. However, now, Jungkook must’ve thought I was into him.

Dear Lord, save me from this misunderstanding.

Before Jungkook managed to question my ambiguous comment, Jimin and Hoseok shouted. Apparently, they found a restaurant with a large enough table to fit us all.

At last!

Once inside, we quickly sat down, ready to skim through the menus. Honestly, we were all hungry way past the I-need-my-food-tasty stage, so we decided to order two giant pizzas and six pints of Christmas Ale beer.

“I think we should play a game before our food arrives,” Jimin proposed as he looked at the people by the table, not appreciating the awkwardness. Within Jimin were two wolves – one was a social butterfly, and the other was a people pleaser. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence irked him immensely. “How about a little integration, anybody?”

“You have to excuse him,” Hoseok interjected, trying to calm the angry crowd of grownups. “Jimin’s going to be a counselor on a hockey camp during the winter break, and sometimes, he forgets he’s not talking with middle-school pupils.”

“You’re never too old for some good old bonding,” Jimin fought his case, really keen on getting to know us better. “Especially over some beer,” he added when the waitress walked up to our table with our beverages.

Though none of us wanted to participate in Jimin’s fun activities, we eventually gave in, realizing his persistence was even more energy-draining than the bonding games themselves.

The rules were simple, you had to name three finds you love and three things you hate. Jimin went first, and it was actually quite funny to see the contrast between him and Kibum, who was the second to speak up.

“I love Mexican food, horror movies, and money,” I confessed when it was my turn, having no regrets. After all, we would never meet again. “I hate banana milk, wireless earphones, and doing laundry,” I added, completing the horrid task, making everyone at the table grow silent. Cocking my brow upward, I asked, “what?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s just unbelievable.”

With each syllable that rolled off Hoseok’s tongue, I knew less and less. What the hell was going on? Could somebody explain to me what the fuss was all about?

“Basically, Jungkook loves all the things you hate,” Jimin finally explained, making Kibum cackle in entertainment.

“Ooh-la-la, the plot thickens,” Kibum snickered, laughing loudly, kicking his head backward.

“Ignore him. He’s just being a drama queen for no reason,” I interjected, ignoring Kibum’s ridiculous reaction.

“Guys, look, the food is ready,” Yeri said in excitement upon seeing our waitress walking toward us with delicious pizza in her hands. “I am so hungry,” she added, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips with appetite.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. After the beer and the food, the conversation sailed without any disturbance, everybody chiming in once in a while. A friendly atmosphere surrounded us, but we all felt it was the first and final meeting. Our groups had completely different vibes, and though we had somewhat fun, there was no point in forcing this friendship any further.

In an amicable mood, we parted ways.

Having dropped Yeri at her dorm, Kibum and I took an Uber to our shared apartment.

“I am dying,” I complained, stretching my arms as soon as I walked through the threshold of our comfy place. Having hung the coat, I fished out the stolen wallet. “I deserved a long bath,” I added, plopping down onto the couch, looking through the content of my newest possession.

“You really have to stop doing that. You’re gonna get caught one time,” Kibum mentioned as he sat down beside me, tearing the wallet out of my hands, browsing through the loyalty cards, looking for a bargain. “When did you even steal it? I was by your side the whole time,” Kibum wondered as he found a coupon for a free coffee amongst the plastic cards.

“You know what they say,” I started, counting the cash in my hands – almost two hundred bucks, not bad. “The first million is the hardest and is meant to be stolen,” I finished my thought, putting the cash into my purse.

“First of all, nobody has ever said that,” Kibum argued, groaning. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation; at this point, we had this pep talk rehearsed to perfection. “You’re pushing your luck here. One day you’ll pick the wrong pocket.”

“What do you want me to say? I can’t stop now,” sighing, I replied. Maybe in the future, once I land a stable job with an adequate wage, I’ll quit. In this economy, it may be quite challenging, but that’s the goal. Right now, I was as poor as a church mouse, barely getting by each month on my level of living.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if the police catch you,” Kibum complained, giving up on his daily lecture. Trying to convince me was a vicious circle. Kibum felt as if he was trapped in some lame remake of Groundhog Day, only failing at knocking some common sense into his friend’s stubborn head.

“Take it easy. They won’t,” I mused with a light-hearted smile. “If you’re forgotten, you’re like super old. You’ll get bald if you keep worrying so much.”

“That’s a low blow,” Kibum mentioned, frowning in annoyance. Ever since he reached the dreadful thirty mark, it was his biggest insecurity. “Alright then,” he carried on, ready to attack me with just as strong jab. “What about Jungkook?”

“What about him?”

“You’ve had a moment.”

“What moment?” I inquired, pretending to be way clueless than I really was. “If, by moment, you mean that he basically nailed me into the ice, then yes.”

“You should’ve given him your phone number,” Kibum commented casually, and I turned my head around, avoiding his gaze. “Oh my, you actually gave it, I knew it,” he realized, looking right through me. “Finally, you need some. Later on, maybe he’ll talk you out of your bad habits,” Kibum carried on, blabbering nonsense.

“Don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest. “I guess Jungkook’s a good guy, but he ain’t gonna call me.”

“You never know,” Kibum reasoned, and I sighed, walking away to the bathroom to run myself a relaxing bath, which was all that I needed.

3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It was a terrible day.

First of all, I was still a bit sore after the ice rink accident. Then, I tried strolling along the bustling alleys, picking a few pockets. Unfortunately, people didn’t carry that much cash.

Having stolen three wallets, I only collected fifty bucks.

That was pathetic.

Sighing, I decided to call it a day.

Kibum would be so proud of me, I thought as I made my way to a random coffee shop, wanting to accidentally lose one of the wallets. That way, the rightful owner would have a chance of actually finding it if he decided to trace back his steps.

On my walk of shame back home, my phone randomly stopped playing music. Instantly, I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to fish it out of my pocket, knowing there was an incoming call waiting to be answered.

Normally, I’d either ignore it because I knew it was a spam call or just ignore it because I preferred texts to calls. Whoever opted to dial must’ve been devil’s spawn. No doubt.

Totally suing this guy.

Hmm… what does he want? I wondered as my thumb hovered over the answer icon on the screen. I wasn’t serious about suing him; it was just me teasing the poor guy. I didn’t actually mean it, and I thought it was obvious.

Before I managed to make up my mind about picking up the phone, Jungkook must’ve given up and hung up. Unfortunately, right when I was about to put it back in my pocket, I received another incoming call.

Totally suing this guy.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up the phone. Hopefully, he would check up on me and end the conversation. It was weird and uncomfortable, so it better be the last time.

“Hi, it’s Jungkook,” he said, sounding somewhat shy and timid. “From the ice rink, how are you feeling?” Jungkook inquired, and I sighed, getting mentally prepared for my reply.

“I’m better,” I answered shortly, not giving him any details on my condition. It was just a few bruises; I wasn’t dying. “Your knee left a bruise, but in a few days, I’m gonna feel all good,” I added, remembering the large mark on my thigh. It looked like a big ass hickey, but that’s the comment I was about to keep to myself.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he spoke through a tumult on his side of the call. He must’ve been in a crowded place, like a locker room packed with fellow hockey players or something. A second later, I heard a noise of shutting the doors close, assuming Jungkook must’ve left the room, wanting to continue this talk without any further disturbance.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I reassured that he cared so him. It was adorable much about my condition, but it was starting to feel a little bit excessive. A regular amount of repentance would be understandable, but he was quite over the top.

“Actually, it’s not why I’m calling,” Jungkook admitted, taking me aback. Why else would he call then? “It was just an excuse,” he added, and I genuinely started to wonder what was going on inside his head. He didn’t want to ask me out, did he?

Nah, it didn’t make any sense.

Get a grip, woman.

“Oh, why are you calling me then?” I challenged him as I couldn’t wait any longer for the big reveal. “What is so important that couldn’t be a simple text?”

“Well…,” Jungkook started, and I smiled, hearing in his tone that he was beaming. “To be completely honest, I really suck at texting. One time, I texted back my friend after a few months, so yeah, I’d rather call,” he explained, and though that’s not my preferred way of communicating, I found it adorable.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out,” Jungkook asked, and I became speechless.

“Really? Why?” I questioned as I couldn’t find any reason why Jungkook would like to meet up with me. Yesterday, I had been grumpy as fuck – it was hard to believe he wanted to see my face ever again.

“What do you mean why?”

“I wasn’t particularly nice to you yesterday,” I admitted, looking down at my feet.

“You were just angry, it happens,” Jungkook claimed, once again surprising me – he wasn’t just good-looking. Besides his gorgeous looks, he, most importantly, was a kind, soft-spoken person with a heart of gold.

“Yeah, but still, I was an asshole.”

“No, it must’ve been that spur-of-the-moment kind of attitude,” Jungkook brushed it off without my thought, and I sighed in relief. Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a complete bitch. “I would be pissed too if someone tackled me down at a public ice rink.”

“Could we please stop talk about it?” I proposed, willing to put it all behind us.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, and I giggled, shaking my head, unable to process how adorable he was. “So, back to the topic, I was wondering if you’d like to come to that charity hockey game tomorrow,” he trailed off, a little bit insecure about my answer. “And after that, we could grab some coffee. I mean, if you don’t have any plans, I’d really like to meet up,” Jungkook added, sounding like a ball of a blabbering mess.

“Hmm… tomorrow, I am busy in the morning and early afternoon. What time does the game begin?” I questioned, buying myself more time to think over Jungkook’s proposition. He was a good guy, and I’d love to hang out, but I still had doubts.

“At three o’clock!” Jungkook exclaimed in excitement, probably hoping I was available to attend this charity event. “We’re raising money for a winter camp for kids from St. Paul’s orphanage. That’s the one Jimin’s gonna volunteer at.”

Now, there was no way I could say no.

“I should be free by then,” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision later on.

“Fantastic, see you tomorrow,” Jungkook exclaimed happily, and I giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Ayo, Jeon, what are you giggling at?” Someone in the background hollered, teasing Jungkook. Though I thought it was cute and playful, Jungkook must’ve felt so embarrassed that he hung up before I managed to say my farewell.

2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

According to Jungkook’s instructions, the charity game out to start around 3 in the afternoon. A bit too early if you ask me, but who am I to judge the authorities who organized it? Nonetheless, I put on a nice outfit (effortless though chic) and made my way to the university’s stadium, ready to sit through the entirety of the game, already suspecting it wouldn’t appeal to my preferences. It was far too brutal to be enjoyable.

I had no interest in hockey, nor even knew the basics; however, Jungkook wanted me out of all people to support him. Normally, I’d skip, but there was just something about him that made it really difficult to say no to him. There I was – on university grounds during the holiday break, heading to the sports department where I had never stepped my foot willingly.

It was a charity event our university annually hosted. To be completely honest, it was the first time I heard of it. Moreover, there was a high chance I wasn’t the only one. Right in front of the entrance, there was no queue – I was the only one, and it was suspicious as fuck.

Unless I had first-hand info about the beginning of the game, I would just turn around and leave. However, Jungkook had specifically said 3 p.m., so I walked up to the entrance, seeing a man distributing tickets. He must’ve been one of the volunteering students. Admirable.

With a deep sigh, I pushed the doors open and entered the building. “One ticket, please,” I spoke, pulling out my wallet to pay for the entry fee. It was all for charity, so I gladly paid up the round sum. These kids really deserved a treat, and I’d love to contribute.

“You’re the first one to arrive; you must be a hardcore fan of our hockey team,” the friendly man said, and I just giggled at this obvious misconception.

Me? A fan? A hardcore one at that? Wow.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m here to support a friend,” I answered, denying the accusations with a casual response. “Where should I go?”

“Right this way, the first doors on the left,” the man answered with a happy beam. “Seats are not assigned, so be free to sit anywhere you like,” he added, and I bowed, thanking him for the directions. Though I was near graduation, I had no idea how to move around the building.

Having pushed the heavy doors open, I made my way to the bleachers.

A few players were skating across the ice rink, while the area for spectators was empty. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, all the players looked at me, whistling like a bunch of starved wolves. What the hell was that all about?

Ooh! Ooh!

“Wow, Jungkook, this girl really came,” one of the boys, probably Hoseok, shouted loud enough for me to hear. What? Did Jungkook talk about me with his teammates? What for? Or did they listen to us chat on the phone the other day? Even so, what’s with the reaction?

At first, I wanted to turn around and run away. I didn’t like the way they looked at me. It resembled a combination of concern for their younger teammate and playful support for whatever was about to stem between us. Ridiculous!

Then, I considered sitting in the last row, ignoring their curious glances. I’d probably pull a book out of my bag and devote myself to the plot for the duration of the game.

Unfortunately, none of my ideas seemed to be possible – especially not when one of the players with number 1 written on the sports uniform skated toward the railing. It must’ve been Jungkook. I mean… who else would that be?

Once he took off his helmet, I realized that my suspicion was right. It was indeed Jungkook with his messy, sweaty hair and a goofy smile upon his face. He was waving at me, enticing me closer to the ice rink.

“You really came,” Jungkook whispered when I walked up to him. “I really doubted you did,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“If I didn’t, you would keep calling me,” I answered playfully, still unable to comprehend how, on earth, he preferred calling to texting. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t be that bad at replying as he had claimed. “And also, why am I here this soon? Where is everybody? Care to explain?” I asked, my tone slightly laced with anger.

“Did I really say 3 o’clock?” Jungkook inquired innocently, staring at the big clock on the scoreboard. “My bad, I fucked it up, sorry,” Jungkook apologized, but I suspected his words weren’t entirely genuine. Apparently, he wanted me to come this soon, and I had to figure out why.

“Also, care to explain why your teammates stare at me like that,” I questioned, cocking my eyebrow, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder. The hockey team really seemed to be invested in what was going on between Jungkook and me, and I didn’t like the way they were gawking at me as if I had two heads growing out on my shoulders.

“Oh, I might’ve got caught talking to you yesterday,” he mentioned as if I didn’t already suspect that. “Apparently, I looked like an embodiment of teenage crush, and they keep teasing me about it. I am sorry if they creep you out,” Jungkook explained, and I beamed, thinking it was actually pretty cute.

“They’re your friends; that’s what friends do.”

“Hey, Jeon, quit flirting and get your ass on the rink. We’ve all gotta warm-up,” the coach hollered, urging Jungkook to return to his teammates. Though it was just an out of the season game, their coach didn’t want to lose anyway.

“Good luck, Jeon,” I whispered, shooing him away from me, really trying to give him a chance for a proper warm-up before the match. “Don’t let anyone tackle you down. It’s not that pleasant,” I added with an encouraging smile.

“I got it,” Jungkook spoke, sending me a cute wink.

Just as I asked him to, Jungkook skated away, only to come back around ten seconds later.

“By the way, you’ve got any plans after the game?” Jungkook asked, waiting for my answer with utter impatience. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“Well… that depends,” I replied, and Jungkook cocked up his eyebrow.

“Depends on what?”

“Ask me again after you win the game,” I teased, giving him some extra motivation to try his best on the rink. “Go, they’re waiting.”

And with that, Jungkook finally got his head in the game.

The coach shouts tips and occasionally scolds players that aren’t on their best performance. In the meantime, people fill up the seats on the bleachers, excited to see the match and open their wallets for the laudable cause.

By the time the match finally begins, I am bored out of my mind. I gave hockey a fair shot, but it didn’t raise my interest in the tiniest bit. It just wasn’t my thing.

Thankfully, I had a newly purchased book in my bag to pass the time. It was just a Christmas themed erotica with a half-naked Santa with a six-pack on the cover. It wasn’t anything promising, but the holidays were around the corner, so maybe it’d put me in the right mood.

Though I didn’t have high hopes for the novel, it felt disappointing. The plot was cliché, and the pace was too rushed, but nonetheless, I’d still choose it over a hockey game. Contact sports weren’t really my thing, especially when it was giving me PTSD.

From time to time, my eyes would locate Jungkook on the rink. He was really out there, showing off his talents, making people gawk in admiration. He was one of the best players in his team, scoring goal after goal. Or whatever they score in hockey.

It was an even match, but ultimately, our team won by two points.

“On children’s behalf, I’d like to thank everybody for coming,” a woman in smart clothing spoke through the microphone. It must’ve been the orphanage director showing her gratitude for all the money they had managed through the ticket sale. “My heart really melts when I see how many people decided to help our children, especially in this difficult time of the year,” she recited, putting the microphone away from her mouth before a grateful tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you so much!”

Shortly after, she handed the microphone to Jungkook’s coach.

“Hi, everybody, I’m coach Min,” he introduced himself, and the spectators clapped their hands in gratitude for leading the team towards victory. “I’d like to thank everybody for donating the money. I hope the kids will enjoy their winter break,” he added, looking at the crowd, proud of so many people gathered to support the cause. “However, if you’d like to contribute, even more, my team will wait outside with boxes. With this extra money, we would like to buy Christmas gifts for these amazing kids. I wish you all – Merry Christmas.”

Another round of applause echoed among the walls before people slowly started to head towards the exit. Taking my time, I followed the crowd, looking for Jungkook. It was difficult; people were feeling generous today.

“Over here,” I heard somebody call my name, so I turned around, recognized Jimin. He was standing a few meters away with a heavy box stuffed with cash. “Would you like to make some children happy?” Jimin asked, placing the box right under my nose, wanting me to contribute some more. “What do you say?”

Although I had already paid the entry fee, I still wanted to give more. All the goodness I had witnessed at the stadium pulled my heartstrings; it was impossible to say no now. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

With a genuine smile, I pulled out my wallet. I had plenty of cash in it. Everything I had stolen during this week. It was about four hundred bucks. Without a slimmer of doubt, the team would spend it wisely. Better than I ever could.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money,” Jimin asked, wondering if I was in the right state of mind donating so much.

“Yes, I am sure,” I confirmed, giving all of the money away. The feeling was deliberating, and it was really nice. “Oh my God, Jimin! What are you doing?” I asked in panic when Jimin put the box on the ground and picked me up, spinning around.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat before continuing, “am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice asked, making Jimin drop me down. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble. Somehow I found my balance before I hit my face against the pavement.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, smiling awkwardly, almost as if we were caught cheating. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. Literally, it was the worst phrasing he could choose, especially given the reputation this line holds. “I was just showing my gratitude after her generous donation.”

“Let’s just go,” I interjected before Jimin managed to embarrass me even more. With a smile upon my face, I grabbed Jungkook’s box and handed it over to Jimin. “Take care of that, okay?” I said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, pulling him away from the campus ground.

Since it was quite chilly outside, Jungkook and I decided to grab drinks at the campus café. Having taken seats by the window in the back, we looked through menus to choose something delicious for our little informal date.

“Order anything you like; it’s my treat,” Jungkook mentioned before he proceeded to look through the menu. “You were my lucky charm today.”

“Well… of course, it’s your treat. I gave all my money away to charity,” I spoke, looking through the tea section for something I haven’t had before. “I’d like vanilla cinnamon tea,” I read out loud the position off the menu that really caught my attention.

“On it,” he added before he walked up to the counter to order. In a minute, he was back at the table, sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. “So… you and Jimin, huh?”

“Speaking of which, what kind of jealousy scene was that?” I inquired, teasing him for completely misunderstanding this situation.

“Sorry for that,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, looking away. “It’s just it was so unexpected. I mean… you don’t know Jimin that well, and acting like that was quite strange,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded, trying to understand his reaction.

“Jimin’s cute. Is he single?” I asked, and Jungkook frowned upon my question, visibly upset with my wording. “What I meant is that I have a friend. I have a feeling they would click, you know,” I clarified, giggling when I saw relief wash through Jungkook.

“In that case, he’s very single,” Jungkook gladly answered, smiling brightly like an idiot. “After the last girl he was seeing dumped him a few months ago, he didn’t date. Maybe it’s about time he gets back to it,” he added, and I nodded, scribbling down my friend’s number on a piece of paper, sliding it over to Jungkook, believing he would pass it to Jimin.

“So… what are your plans for Christmas Eve?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table. Apparently, Jungkook is quite a sweet-tooth. Beside my tea, he ordered a large cup of hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows on top along with four beautifully decorated cupcakes. I got cavities just by looking at it.

“I’m going Christmas shopping,” Jungkook answered, licking off some whipped cream off the pink cupcake. “I gotta buy gifts for the kids,” he added, and I smiled at the boy in front of me. Although I knew him only for two days, he kept surprising me.

In a good way, of course.

“Do you have any idea what I can get them?” Jungkook inquired, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, enjoying his sweet treat. “There’s like thirty-five of them. I am clueless.”

“I don’t know… board games? Art supplies? Lego blocks? I’m sure you’ll figure this out,” I replied, suspecting I wasn’t much of a help.

“You could always come and join me,” Jungkook proposed, reaching for another cupcake. “I could use some help,” he added, pushing the tray with sugary treats towards me.

“I’d love to, but I will be at work, sorry,” I answered truthfully, now kind of regretting replying to that ad on Craigslist. “I’m babysitting tomorrow. Parents of three go on some business trip, and I have to watch them until their grandparents take over,” I explained, and Jungkook nodded, sipping his hot cocoa.

“Any plans after that?”

“I’ll just come back home and watch some Christmas movies on Netflix. This year, I don’t have time to go to my hometown. I gotta go to work as soon as Christmas is over,” I explained with a deep sigh. Although I wasn’t exceptionally family-oriented, it still felt a little bit odd to spend Christmas alone. “What about you?”

“My parents finally saved up enough money for the second honeymoon they always wanted to go, so there’s no real celebration this year,” Jungkook mentioned, showing real support for his parents. If that’s what they really wanted, he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’m really happy for them. Raising me and my brother wasn’t easy, so that’s the least we can do.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I commented, wondering about Jungkook, his family, and their customs. “We could hang out tomorrow evening if you want to,” I proposed, and Jungkook beamed in utter joy, almost as if he waited for my offer.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jungkook admitted, grinning like a child. “Come on, have some cupcake. I bought them for us.”

“I’m fine with my tea,” I replied, raising the cup to my mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I’m full just by looking at you eat,” I added, encouraging Jungkook to devour the rest of the goodies.

As if I didn’t know already, Jungkook proved to me one more time how charming he was. Though we had different opinions on some topics, we also had a lot in common.

This date was really informative. For example, I had no idea that Jungkook only plays in the hockey team for the scholarship. His true passion is photography and directing, and it’s actually his major. Moreover, he shared how much he likes to sings in the shower, for which he often gets teased by fellow teammates.

Maybe our first meeting was a tragedy, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize that it was actually worth it to take this fall.

CHRISTMAS EVE

“My parents should arrive around seven,” the mother of three boys announced when she finally found a second to talk to me. “Jin is ten, Namjoon is eight, and Taehyung is five,” she added when the boys ran across the corridor, chasing one another.

“They’re adorable,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. I had no idea how the kids would behave when their parents would walk out the door.

“My sweet little angels,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling a bit sad that she had to leave her children alone on Christmas day. Unfortunately, whatever they had to tend to at work was way more important than spending holidays with their children. “How much money do I owe you?” She asked, being unaware of the amount her husband put on the advertisement.

“Five hundred,” I answered, and she nodded her head, giving me the correct amount.

Thankfully, the kids weren’t all that troublesome.

After their parents left for the airport, the children were a loud mess playing some console games. As long as they didn’t want me to participate in their fun activities, I didn’t mind the noise. I’d just simply wait for the grandparents to arrive.

Just two more hours; I can handle that.

“Can I have some candy?” Taehyung asked cutely, holding a bag of jelly beans in his hands. Usually, I’d say no. Kids tend to be hyperactive on the sugar rush. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but then, I was quite impressed that he even bothered to ask for permission.

“Of course, sweetie, it’s Christmas,” I replied, tearing the packaging for him.

After the boys got bored, they wanted to play some board games with me. I wasn’t particularly interested in interacting with them but ultimately decided to join in. It’s been a while since I destroyed someone at Monopoly, so I might as well do it now.

Just one more hour; it’s almost over.

The boys had a particularly short attention span. The average game of Monopoly should take at least two hours – Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung returned to their previous shenanigans, running around and screaming at one another maybe twenty minutes into the game.

Just when I was about to yell at them to keep quiet, I heard my phone ring. Under these circumstances, it was a blessing. At this point, I’d diligently answer all the questions the spam caller wanted to ask me. I was desperate for some interaction with an adult.

Having locked myself inside the bathroom, I answered the call, enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet. “Hello?” I asked, waiting for Jungkook to brighten my day.

“Hi, there,” he spoke cheerfully, “all gifts are bought and wrapped,” he added, proud of his today’s achievements. “What time do you finish up?”

“In an hour or maybe earlier,” I answered, looking at the wristwatch.

“Do you want me to pick you up? We could take a walk, and then just go with the flow,” Jungkook proposed, and I immediately said yes as I couldn’t wait for him to show up and rescue me from these children.

“I’d actually love that. I’ll text you the address,” I spoke, biting my bottom lip in excitement. One more hour and I’d walk away with five hundred bucks in my wallet.

When the clock struck seven o’clock, the grandparents were nowhere to be seen. They were running late, and I was growing impatient. Jungkook would be here any minute, and I wanted to leave. I tried calling their parents but to no avail. They must’ve already boarded the plane.

This situation was helpless – they were just little boys, I couldn’t leave them alone.

Thirty minutes later, I heard the bell. In a hurry, I opened the doors, wishing to see the grandparents on the other side. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, it was just Jungkook.

“Shall we go now?” Jungkook asked, eyeing me from head to toe, biting his lip. “Wow, you look amazing,” he added, and I stared down at my outfit consisting of a cute tight purple turtleneck, a short black skirt, and a pair of warm tights.

“I can’t go yet. Their grandparents aren’t here, and I don’t have a way of calling them,” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, taking off his shoes, willing to help me babysit.

“What is he doing here,” Jin asked, as he folded his arms around his chest, judging me for inviting someone to their household.

“He’s my friend who was supposed to pick me up after I’m done here, and since your grandparents are getting late, he’s staying, so be nice to him.”

“Whatever,” he grumped before running to the living room, joining his brothers on the couch.

We tried watching a movie. However, once again, the boys couldn't focus enough to last to the end of it. Then, I realized I royally fucked up by giving them sugar earlier. They wanted to play hide and seek, and I agreed with a tired sigh.

Unwillingly, I turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes and began counting, giving them more than enough time to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Three, two, one,” I hollered, making sure they heard me.

The apartment was suspiciously silent and pretty dark. I could definitely feel that weird vibe often present in horror movies. First of all, I checked all the hiding spots in the living room. Then, when I was about to enter the corridor, I felt a presence behind me. Before I managed to react, a hand snaked around my body, covering my mouth, muffling my unexpected screams.

In a second, the person turned me around. I should’ve figured it out it was Jungkook. With a goofy smile, he mentioned me to remain quiet.

“What are you doing? This is not how you play this game,” I whispered, giving him a lecture, but Jungkook only laughed at my reaction.

“Look, they’re finally quiet. You should take your time finding the kids,” Jungkook suggested, and I hummed in agreement. He was right – I should cherish the silence. He was a genius. “Shh…,” he added, pressing his forefinger against his perfect lips.

Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but I just couldn’t help myself. We were standing there in the dark, completely still. I couldn’t fight this temptation.

Acting out of my urge, I took a step forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was a delicate brush of my lips against his, but it was just perfect. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this innocent form of affection.

The moment I pulled away, Jungkook grinned, placing his hands on my hips. Staring down at me, he yanked me against his firm body, leaning forward for another kiss. Tenderly, his mouth moved, feeling my lips.

Within seconds, the kiss became even more passionate. Smiling, Jungkook began to nibble on the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hummed in pleasure. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” Jungkook loudly cursed as he bit my bottom lip, making me shriek in pain. At first, I thought he was just getting turned on, but then I realized what happened. It was Taehyung. He was standing right beside Jungkook, smiling as if he did something inappropriate. “He bit me!” Jungkook exclaimed, massaging his thigh, trying to ease the pain.

“He bit you?” I asked, being confused as ever. “Is that true, Taehyung?” I questioned the boy, but instead of answering me, he ran away to another room, chuckling like a maniac. Now, that was odd. “What is going on?”

The grandparents were supposed to arrive over an hour ago; I was losing my patience here.

“This kid bit me,” Jungkook carried on, unable to comprehend this entire situation. Well… he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wrap his head around this. What the fuck was wrong with them? “What is this?” Jungkook asked as he felt something on this thigh. “Ew, it’s his tooth!”

That was enough.

It was about time I set up some rules.

“Let’s find them, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” I ordered before we split up to search more ground. The boys were getting out of hand, and they had to be stopped. For the love of God, Taehyung bit Jungkook!

“Have you found them?” Jungkook hollered, and I shook my head.

They vanished.

“I know it’s very irresponsible, but how about ditching this place?” I offered, even though I already knew the answer. They were just kids; we couldn’t just walk out, leaving them alone.

“It’s tempting, but we shouldn’t do that,” Jungkook spoke, regretting making the adult decision. “Isn’t that Namjoon?” He asked, and I turned to look where he was pointing at.

“Wait there, young man!” I yelled, storming out of the room, following Namjoon. The second I turned to the left, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. It was weird; he must’ve run into one of the rooms. Unfortunately, before I managed to make up my mind, which room I should check first, someone pushed me onto the ground. It made me fall on my knees, painfully bruising them. “What the fuck?” I looked behind my shoulder, seeing Jin bolt off to the living room.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked in concern as he approached me, helping me stand up. “What is wrong with them?”

“I have no idea. The boys seemed fine earlier,” I spoke, seeing Taehyung run towards us. In a matter of seconds, he jumped at Jungkook, wrapping his hands around his neck, dangling off his back. “Hold still,” I ordered, but Jungkook was in panic, afraid of earning another wound.

I wanted to peel the kid off Jungkook’s back, but there was something wrong with Taehyung. Though he was a good boy, right now, there was something inhuman about him. He behaved like a wild animal with rabies, and it crept me out as fuck.

Jungkook smashed his back against the wall, hoping Taehyung would loosen the grip around his neck. At this moment, Jungkook felt as if the little boy was strangling him.

Unfortunately, the impact didn’t do much help.

Then I saw it. There must’ve been something really wrong with them. Taehyung’s eyes were all black with a few black veins around them, making him look extra creepy.

“Fuck this shit, let’s go,” I yanked Jungkook’s arm, wanting to get the hell away from this apartment. There was something wrong with them, and it wasn’t a part of my job to find out what. I was about to babysit them until seven o’clock and leave.

It wasn’t a part of the deal.

“We can’t leave,” Jungkook argued, but I didn’t want to listen.

“We’ll call the police,” I spoke, desperately trying to convince Jungkook to escape this trap. “They’ll send someone here to check up on them,” I added, running to the living room to get my bag. “Let’s go before I drag you out of here.” Maybe my words sounded like a threat, but it successfully made Jungkook move.

“It’s locked,” Jungkook said when he tried to pull the doors open. Though I didn’t lock it after Jungkook’s entrance, the doors wouldn’t budge now. “Do you have a key?”

Trapped inside the apartment, we looked at each other. None of us knew what to do next.

Then, the lights went out.

As if we weren’t already crept out.

“What is the plan?” Jungkook inquired, searching for my hand to hold onto something.

“Stay calm,” I answered, not realizing that quoting the office wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “You try everything to open the doors. Kungfu the shit out of them if you have to,” I ordered, and Jungkook hummed in understanding. “I’ll distract the kids.”

It wasn’t the wisest decision to make, but somebody had to do it. I wasn’t exceptionally proud of myself, but what could a bunch of weird kids do to me?

“Be careful,” Jungkook whispered before I turned on the torch on my phone, looking for the kids around the apartment.

They had to be hiding in one of the rooms. Having taken a confident sigh, I pushed one of the doors open, stepping into Namjoon’s bedroom. The space was spotless, and it was hard to believe it was one of the children’s rooms.

“Game over, Namjoon,” I spoke, urging him to show himself. “You won,” I added, as I kneeled on the carpet to check if he was hiding under the bed. He wasn’t there. “It’s not funny,” I exclaimed, marching towards the closet, anxious about opening it.

It had to be done, though.

Abruptly, I opened the closet, hoping I’d be the first to react if it was indeed Namjoon’s hiding spot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Before I managed to prepare myself, Namjoon pushed me, making me painfully fall on my back.

“You little fucker,” I yelled, groaning in pain, earning probably another big ass bruise. “You’re gonna regret that,” I added, unable to control my anger any longer. I was getting easy on them, but it was enough. Now, I’d punch them in the face if I had to.

Namjoon was staring down at me with these creepy black eyes of a demon. His eyes studied my movement, almost as if he was a predator, waiting for the best moment to strike its prey. Then he screeched, jumping right at me in an attempt to bite me.

This time around, however, my reflexes were quicker. Before Namjoon landed on top of me, I rolled to the side, kicking him in his stomach, sending him flying across the room. I couldn’t believe I just did that, but when Namjoon stood up as if nothing happened, I understood I had to go all the way if I wanted to make it out alive.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet, determined to Bruce Lee kick the devil’s spawn into another dimension with my close-to-none self-defense skills. Women in stress could pick up cars, and I had to beat up an eight-year-old.

I could handle it.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Bouncing on my legs like on the ready mode in a fighting game, I stared at my opponent. Namjoon was the first to attack, and I just jumped at the side, not wanting to get bitten. Unfortunately, Namjoon still managed to scratch my arm, drawing blood.

“You’re dead,” I threatened when I saw that he tore the sleeve of my favorite turtleneck. With anger in my eyes, I approached him, throwing punches left and right. My fists collided against Namjoon’s jaw, but no matter how much force I used, it didn’t seem to have any impact on him. He didn’t feel any pain, and it pissed me off.

With a hiss, Namjoon jumped at me, wrapping his hands and arms around my torso. His mouth was dangerously close to my throat, so in a state of complete panic, I started to spin around, trying to shake him off of me.

Now, Namjoon’s room was a complete mess – especially when I walked into a mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Namjoon and I were rolling in the broken glass, earning plenty of tiny cuts across our bodies.

“That’s enough,” I warned him as I spat blood on the carpet. “Say hello to Satan for me, will you?” I added before I pushed him out of the window without any regrets. Namjoon kept screaming, but when his tiny body smashed against the pavement, the peculiar screeching finally stopped. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” I whispered, unable to control myself.

I just killed a kid, and the first thing that came to my mind was quoting Die Hard.

It wasn’t the time for celebration. There were still two children running around the apartment.

Looking around Namjoon’s room, I found a baseball bat. That’ll do, I thought to myself as I stared at my new-found weapon.

“Jungkook!” I shouted.

Once I was in the corridor, I saw the doors. They were open, but Jungkook was out of sight. Did he seriously ditch me here alone? No, it wasn’t possible. Jungkook would never do that.

The boys must’ve done something to him.

One by one, I checked all the rooms, but I found nothing. It almost felt as if I was alone in this creepy apartment.

“Cut the crap, boys,” I hollered, ready to smack anybody in the face with my baseball bat. I was done playing games. I just wanted to go home and wrap myself in blankets in front of a television. “Come out! I don’t have the whole day,” I added, looking around.

I was on high alert. Adrenaline and other hormones were running through my veins, enhancing my senses. Then I heard it – the sound was coming from the staircase. Quickly, I ran out of the apartment, checking the reason behind this commotion.

It was a yellow ball. Somebody must’ve thrown it. Leaning over the railing, I looked up, trying to spot the villain behind this prank. Then I heard giggles. It must’ve been Taehyung.

“Get down here, right now,” I ordered, but the boy didn’t listen. “You’re going to be so dead when I get up there,” I warned, skipping two steps at a time, climbing the stairs.

On the top of the stairs, Taehyung was sitting comfortably, playing with a yo-yo. His face was stretched into a creepy smile, and in all honesty, it gave me chills.

“Get down here,” I repeated myself, but Taehyung didn’t even budge. “Where is Jungkook? What did you do to him?” I asked and received no answer.

Angrily, I walked upstairs, swinging my baseball bat around. Taehyung tried to mess with me with his yo-yo, but I managed to catch the toy and pull it out of his hands.

Like a maniac, I swung the bat, repeatedly hitting Taehyung’s head until it turned into a pulp. Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I turned around, studying the area. There was one more child out there, and I couldn’t lose my focus just yet.

“Where are you, Jin?” I shouted, waiting for a sign from the boy.

“Here,” Jin whispered, as he emerged from the shadows, pushing me off the stairs.

It was a painful fall, but thankfully, I didn’t break my neck. I felt a pulsating sensation in my left ankle, but besides that, I was fine.

Groaning in pain, I watched Jin slowly descend the stairs. His weird-ass demon eyes were drilling holes in my face, his lips turning into a devilish sneer. Step by step, he made his way downstairs, enjoying the way I tried to crawl away from him. The anticipation was draining me of energy; he was going to murder me, and I could just watch him do it.

“Help!” I shouted though I doubted anyone could hear me. “Somebody call the police!” I carried on but to no avail.

Jin was maybe thirty centimeters away from me, savoring my misery. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, showing me his teeth, ready to tear me apart.

I had maybe a minute of life left, and I was going to spend it looking into my killer’s eyes.

That was sick.

When Jin was about to jump at me, I heard a noise coming from the apartment.

The scene unfolded in front of my eyes so soon, I couldn’t properly react to it. Right before Jin took a final leap towards me, Jungkook emerged out of the apartment with a fireplace poker, piercing it through Jin’s neck.

Jin’s blood, like a fountain, squirted on me. With my eyes closed, I waited for this moment to end. A few seconds later, I could hear Jin’s dead body collapse to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jungkook, who dropped onto the floor beside me in shock.

“I just killed a kid,” Jungkook whispered, still unable to process what just happened. “When you walked away to look for the kids, I heard a noise in the kitchen. It was Jin, and when I entered, he began throwing shit at me. That motherfucker cut my face,” he added, showing me his fresh wound on his beautiful cheek. “Then, he stabbed my side with the knife and locked me in the closet,” he added, squeezing his side, trying to numb the pain.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” I spoke, trying to stand up. It was difficult with all my wounds, but I couldn’t stand being inside this building.

CHRISTMAS DAY

We just killed three children.

At first, we had no clue what to do next, but then, I listened to my voice of reason – Jungkook. No matter how bad it looked, we had to go to the police.

Hand in hand, we slowly walked to the nearest police station. People were turning their heads when we were passing by them. I couldn’t blame them. I looked like Carrie with better clothing, while Jungkook seemed to have survived a zombie apocalypse.

When we entered the police station, everybody stared at us. Wobbling, we approached the front desk. “We killed three children,” I admitted, realizing how bad it sounded without the context.

The policeman was shocked. He didn’t witness this kind of thing regularly.

A few minutes later, we were escorted to a questioning room, where we could describe everything in great detail. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to buy our story, thinking we were trying to pull some kind of a prank.

Taking all precautions, they called in an ambulance. We were seriously injured, and we needed some medical care. Though the doctor did a great job, I’d kill to get some better painkillers.

Once our wounds were dressed, the police locked us in custody. We had to wait until a pair of policemen checked the apartment and secure the evidence.

“Merry Christmas, Jungkook,” I whispered as I looked at my wristwatch, realizing it was already past one o’clock. “I know we had different plans, but out of all people, I am glad I was stuck there with you. You saved my life,” I carried on, looking at Jungkook fondly.

“We killed three children,” he replied, still shaken after what had happened. Perhaps, he didn’t need me now, but I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright. Too bad that we were locked in two different cells.

“In self-defense,” I added since Jungkook often seemed to forget that part.

After ten minutes of painful silence, one of the guards walked up to the custody, unlocking our cells. What else did they want to know? We already said everything we knew.

“You’re free to go,” the guard announced, surprising us immensely. “It was an elaborate prank, but don’t ever do that again, or else, we’re going to seriously put you in jail,” he warned, urging us to leave.

“I don’t understand,” I wondered out loud, unable to process what was going on. “I thought you sent your men to check out the crime scene.”

“We did, and the apartment you wanted us to check out was empty. We talked with the landlord, and he said this flat has been vacant for the last year,” the guard explained, making me and Jungkook gasp in shock.

What the fuck was going on?

In complete silence, with our heads hanging low, we exited the police station.

“What now?”

“Let’s just go home and watch Die Hard,” Jungkook whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened inside the apartment. We almost died in there. However, when the police checked it, it was like we had never been there.

My apartment was closer, so we both headed there. Our moves were robotic, our heads were empty. At this point, we just wanted to sit down and keep our minds busy, so we wouldn’t try to analyze what happened back there.

It wasn’t a figment of our imagination. Our wounds were concrete evidence that we were telling the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t want to believe us. However, as the saying goes – no body, no crime.

In light of the law, we were innocent.

As soon as we entered my apartment, we sat down on the floor, resting our back against the sofa. Mindlessly, I grabbed the remote and turned Die Hard on Netflix.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered as I interlaced my fingers with Jungkook’s, resting my head on his shoulder. “Or we can just pretend it never happened. Let’s just say we watched a really weird movie or went to a hardcore escape room,” I added, studying Jungkook’s arm tattoos, getting lost in his skin art.

“I’ve known you a few days,” Jungkook started, staring into my eyes. “But I’ve experienced more stress than in my entire life altogether,” he added with a sigh, placing a delicate peck against my neck.

“Actually, my life is pretty boring,” I admitted, though I knew where Jungkook’s words were coming from. I wouldn’t believe myself, either. “It took a 180 on that ice rink,” I reasoned, trying to find a connection.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook confessed genuinely, staring at my face with his big sparkly eyes. He was bullshitting me, but I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him. How could I be beautiful? My hair was all sticky due to all the blood which the doctor hadn’t washed off. My skin was covered with cuts and bruises. Even my clothes were ripped. I was certain Jungkook didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’re beautiful, too,” I beamed, teasing him. “Even after what we’ve been through today, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” I added, and Jungkook looked away, trying to hide his red cheeks. Carefully, I cupped his face, pressing another delicate kiss against his lips.

Just like feathers, our lips moved against each other. No rush, no hastiness, just pure delight.

Though we were both sore and exhausted, we took our time. Maybe it was past three o’clock now, but we didn’t care. I could stay up all night, kissing him like that.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands found purchase on my hips, carefully pulling me closer on top of his thighs. Gently, I began rubbing my sex against his muscular legs, trying not to make him hiss. His beautiful thighs had already suffered enough damage when Taehyung had bitten him – I didn’t want to inflict any more pain.

“I wish I could fuck you the way I want to,” Jungkook confessed, taking me aback with his filthy words. He was a good soft boy with a heart of gold; how could he talk dirty to me like that? It was out of his calm and collected character, but I absolutely loved it.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m gonna stick around at least until you’re fully recovered,” I answered with a teasing tone as I reached down to his zipper, freeing his semi-hard cock. “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? Or Valentine’s Day?” I questioned, but Jungkook was too busy to answer right away, ripping my tights apart.

“Actually, I do,” Jungkook mentioned with a lopsided smirk upon his face. “I’m gonna be sitting here between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. How do you like that?” He asked mischievously, biting my bottom lip before I managed to reply.

“I hope you’re not all talk,” I answered, staring down at his dick. Carefully, I pulled it out of his pants, giving it a few strokes before I raised my hips, slowly sinking down on his length. “Mmm…” I purred, feeling a pleasant stretch.

“I should’ve prepped you,” Jungkook whispered as he felt my walls slowly adjust to his girth.

“Nah, it’s all fine,” I spoke, getting all comfortable on his dick. “There’s always a next time.”

With a languid, stable pace, I rocked my hips back and forth, riding him. Going this slow allowed me to properly feel every inch of him. It was intimate, and I enjoyed it much more than any mindless pounding, which didn’t always get me off. With Jungkook under me, I was in complete control. He was obedient and responsive to my movements, really making it look easy to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, feeling the approaching orgasm. Jungkook, instead of messing with my tempo, grabbed my hips, helping me maintain my current pace. “Fuck, Jungkook,” I hissed when he gently pushed his cock deeper inside of me, being seconds away from his own release.

“Come around my cock,” Jungkook ordered, and I obeyed his order, falling into a million pieces on top of him, screaming his name. Thankfully, Jungkook’s hands held me in place. Otherwise, I’d once again collapse onto the floor. “Argh,” Jungkook grunted, shooting his load inside of me. “I want to go again,” he added as soon as he calmed down after the powerful orgasm.

“I think it’ll have to wait,” I answered, though I’d love to go another round. “We can try in the morning. Right now, I need a shower,” I added, and Jungkook nodded his head, resting it between my boobs, too lazy to let me go.

He was still balls deep inside of me, and his cum was slowly oozing out of my pussy, but none of us wanted to move. It felt as pleasant as it was nasty, but we didn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jungkook asked innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to woo me. “That would save lots of water,” he added, and I didn’t want to argue with his reasoning.

“Why the hell not? Let’s go before I change my mind,” I spoke, giving him a hand, helping him stand up. “But,” I added, sternly staring at the boy beside me. “Until we’re fully recovered, it’s just a shower.”

“Sure thing.”

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #christmas smut #bts christmas #bts #bangtan smut

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kjack89 · 3 years

Text

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 7/?)

This Author does not normally deign to speak of love in these papers, as love is not what society marriages are traditionally built on (nor, for that matter, is good gossip built upon love). Love, it seems, is good for nothing more than making one do foolish things: it causes men and women alike to abandon all reason and do things to which they would otherwise not be remotely inclined.

And yet sometimes love is the simplest explanation in the world that one can offer to allow everything else to make sense.

Rumor has it that the Marquess of Enjolras has taken his new bride on a brief honeymoon trip before returning to the city, leaving Mr. Grantaire behind. A honeymoon seems an odd choice for a couple forced together by circumstance, which is why this Author is pondering whether there is more to this story than meets the eye.

Perhaps this was no mere scandal, after all. Could the Marquess have traveled to the Grantaire manor only to find not just a bride, but love? Could that explain the delay in returning to the city, and the reason for not involving friends or family, lest they try to talk him out of it?

Or could there be another explanation for why the Marquess seems so reluctant to show his face?

If this is a love match, this Author will owe the Marquess and his bride a mea culpa, but never fear – the course of true love never did run smooth, and this Author suspects that one way or another, there is certainly more to this tale than meets the eye. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 8 MAY 1831

Grantaire glared defiantly at him, which Enjolras thought was quite extraordinary, since the man’s clothes and hair were completely plastered to him by wind, rain, and mud. “I said I’m in love with you.”

“You are?” Enjolras asked dumbly.

Grantaire jerked a nod. “And evidently I’ve been much more subtle about it than I thought.”

“Let’s perhaps not rule out me being extraordinarily stupid quite yet,” Enjolras said, unable to take his eyes off of Grantaire, as if seeing him for the first time. Despite the fact that he was soaked through to the bone, he felt a warmth flooding through him as he looked at Grantaire, really looked at him, the man he had known for years and the man he was beginning to suspect he didn’t really know at all.

But God, he wanted to.

Something shifted in Grantaire’s expression as if he realized Enjolras was not going to throw him out on his ear for what he had just confessed. “I’m certain I owe you an explanation,” he started, but Enjolras shook his head.

“I believe we can save that for when we’re back indoors.”

For one moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue, but then he jerked his head in another nod and both men started trudging back towards the house. Enjolras kept glancing sideways at Grantaire, so many things that he wanted to say dying on the tip of his tongue.

It was probably for the best that he couldn’t seem to speak: the rain and mud made the trek far more hazardous than it should have been, and besides, as the rain soaked through all of Enjolras’s clothing, his teeth began to chatter, and he could only imagine how much worse it was for Grantaire, who had been out in the rain for much longer—

He stopped in his tracks so abruptly that Grantaire almost did not notice, pausing only when he seemed to realize Enjolras was no longer next to him. “Have you lost your mind entirely?” Grantaire demanded, half-turning to glare at him.

“Not my mind,” Enjolras assured him, unbuttoning his coat as quickly as his shaking fingers would allow. “Just my manners.”

“Your—” Grantaire started, his confusion turning to bafflement as Enjolras shrugged out of his coat and held it out to him. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Wear it,” Enjolras said, as if it was obvious. “A gentleman should always offer his coat when his companion is cold, and I’d imagine you’re considerably colder than I am, given how long you’ve been out here.”

Grantaire just stared at him. “And what, pray tell, is your coat supposed to do?”

“Keep you warm.”

Grantaire took the outstretched coat and held it up. “This is supposed to keep me warm?” he asked, incredulous. “It’s soaking wet.”

Enjolras blinked, realizing all too late that Grantaire was right. “You may have a point there,” he admitted.

Then, suddenly, both men were laughing, deep belly laughs that had them both almost doubled over, oblivious to the still-pouring rain. “God,” Grantaire said finally when he straightened, wiping rain, or tears, or both from his cheeks. “What a pair we make.”

Enjolras laughed again, a gentler laugh. “I did warn you not to rule out me being extraordinarily stupid.” He held his hand out. “You may return my coat to me,” he told Grantaire. “I won’t make you carry it the rest of the way just because I’m a fool.”

Grantaire cocked his head. “Last I heard, a gentleman has an obligation to offer his coat to his companion,” he said mildly. “I heard nothing about an obligation to return it.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Perhaps not an obligation, but I really must insist.”

“Oh, you insist, my lord?” Grantaire returned, with a playful lilt to his voice, something about it warming Enjolras more than his sopping wet coat possibly could. “And what if I were to insist upon wearing it? After all, you offered it to me. Would you renege on your offer?”

Again Enjolras rolled his eyes, doing his best to drum up some requisite irritation, despite feeling like he wanted to grin. “Grantaire, don’t be daft—”

“Do you wish to stand here and argue with me, or do you wish to return indoors?” Grantaire interrupted. Truthfully, there was a not-small part of Enjolras that would quite rather wish to stand and argue, but he knew a losing argument – on both fronts – when he saw it, and just sighed and shook his head in acquiescence. “That’s what I thought,” Grantaire said, just a little smugly, as they started toward the house again.

Were it not for the smug tone in his voice, Enjolras might have let it slide, but he had never let Grantaire have the last word when he could help it, and he was not about to start now. “You’re an idiot,” he said, more of a sigh than anything else.

Grantaire just shrugged blithely. “Perhaps,” he said, before glancing sideways at Enjolras. “Or perhaps a gentleman also does not allow his companion to feel like the only foolish one.”

The warmth that flooded Enjolras from that was almost enough to sustain him the rest of the way to the cottage.

By the time they arrived, the rain was finally beginning to let up, not that it did anything to help the two men as they hurried inside and made a beeline for the fireplace in the library, teeth chattering. “I’ll bet you wish you had some alcohol in the house now,” Grantaire muttered, rubbing his hands together.

The exact thought had crossed Enjolras’s mind, but he refused to dignify Grantaire’s comment by admitting as much. “We should bathe,” he said instead, remembering the boiling bath his governess had forced him to take after his horse had foundered and he’d been forced to walk home for several hours in the pouring rain. “Warm water will do us good, and that way we can also get the mud off.”

Both men had indeed attracted an absurd amount of mud from sloshing their way back to the cottage, enough so to make it difficult to tell where their clothes ended and their skin began.

“Personally I think the mud only adds to my good looks,” Grantaire said blithely, before adding, “Besides, Jehan was telling me that in ancient times, they used mud as a restorative for the skin, so perhaps we should leave it on to be safe.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “You were that child that always refused to take his bath, weren’t you,” he said with a resigned sigh.

Grantaire laughed. “I have no idea what makes you say that,” he demurred. “That said, I’ll let you take your bath first.”

“Don’t be an idiot, you’re the one who was out in the rain for two hours,” Enjolras told him.

“Yes, but—”

“Besides, the tub is big enough for the both of us.” Grantaire’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and Enjolras added, “After all, you owe me an explanation, and this seems as good a time as any.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed, but he attempted no argument against the idea, merely telling Enjolras, “Then we’d best start heating some water.”

They worked in seamless unison in the kitchen heating massive pots full of water to transfer into smaller buckets to carry up to the massive porcelain bathtub in the room off of Enjolras’s bedchamber, as it was the only tub in the house. As Grantaire hefted his fifth and sixth bucket for his third trip, he gave Enjolras a look. “I bet you’re also wishing you had servants in this house.”

“Who needs servants when I have you?” Enjolras shot back, saccharine sweet, and was surprisingly gratified when Grantaire just flushed and mumbled something incoherent in response.

If anything, the task of filling the tub was enough to warm them up even without the bath, but since Enjolras had been the one to suggest it, he felt they might as well follow through. And he really did want to get the mud – which had now dried enough to be caked onto his skin – off.

Once the tub was full, both men stood awkwardly in the bathroom, and Enjolras wondered if he should again offer to let Grantaire bathe first, and alone.

But before he could make his offer, Grantaire started unbuttoning his shirt. Despite his initial reluctance to the idea, he exhibited no shame in peeling off his damp clothes in front of Enjolras, who, despite it being his idea in the first place, still hesitated.

“I have seen you naked, you know,” Grantaire told him as he struggled to get his wet trousers off, adding, “if that was your concern.”

They both had, having gone swimming many times during one summer at one of the de Courfeyrac’s country manors, one that boasted a secluded lake perfect for young men to cool off in. None of Les Amis had brought their swimming costumes but they were all young and foolish and didn’t care, stripping down to nothing and splashing about more like children than the young gentlemen they had been.

But Enjolras rather suspected that they both realized this was nothing like that.

Still, Grantaire’s words were enough to finally dispel Enjolras’s hesitation, and he began stripping his own clothes off, albeit at a much slower pace from Grantaire.

Grantaire got into the tub first, settling in on the far side of the tub and tilting his head back, eyes closed as he soaked in the steam. Enjolras hesitated once more and Grantaire cracked one eye open. “I’m not going to do anything to you, you know.”

Enjolras flushed. “I know,” he said, finally stepping out of his trousers and slipping into the tub, settling opposite of Grantaire.

“Do you,” Grantaire murmured, his head still tilted back. “Sometimes I wonder if you would even know what it looked like if someone were to try to do anything to or with you.”

The warmth of the water was slowly seeping through the chill that clung to Enjolras, and it felt good enough that he was tempted to let Grantaire’s comment go uncontested.

But even when stark naked and still freezing cold, Enjolras had never been one to let things go uncontested.

“I would too,” he said, knowing full well that he sounded like a petulant child and hating it. “I am not completely ignorant, you know, to the world.”

“To the world,” Grantaire repeated.

Enjolras busied himself with trying to scrape the mud off of his fingernails. “To…to the physical act of lovemaking.” He flushed scarlet and studiously avoided looking at Grantaire. “I am not a virgin.”

“I see.”

Those two words may have been the most infuriating thing that Grantaire had ever said, if only because Enjolras had no idea what to read into them, if anything. Grantaire’s eyes were still closed, his expression as unreadable as his tone, and Enjolras felt as if he had no choice but to explain further. “Courfeyrac took me to a brothel when my father died,” he said, still flushed. “He said that he could not in good conscience allow me to become a Marquess without ever having lain with someone.”

Grantaire opened both eyes. “I truly cannot imagine you at a brothel,” he remarked.

Enjolras shrugged, trailing a hand through the water. “It was not as terrible as I expected,” he admitted. “Courfeyrac picked out a young woman for me, and I spent over an hour or so just talking with her.” Grantaire looked very much like he wanted to interrupt, but Enjolras did not let him. “I wanted to know about her conditions, about what working there was like, and how she had found herself there. She told me that she used to be a factory worker but made twice as much in less than half the time worked, and with four mouths at home to feed…” He trailed off an shrugged. “To her, it seemed a fair bargain, and no matter my personal hesitation with the profession, she seemed in a better position to judge it than I.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Only you could go to a brothel and emerge with a tale of the plight of the working class,” he said with a dry chuckle. It was his turn to hesitate, just for a moment, before asking, in what he clearly deemed a casual sort of way, “And then after that, you slept with her?”

“No.” Grantaire’s eyes flew to his and Enjolras felt himself color again. “After that, she kissed me, and it was…fine. Serviceable. But then she asked—” Enjolras’s blushed deepened. “She asked if I would prefer the company of a man.”

Something almost like relief flickered across Grantaire’s face before his expression smoothed back into something unreadable. “Ah.”

Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “And I said yes. So she went and got a man who worked at the establishment, and...well…I did. Very much so. Prefer it.”

“I see,” Grantaire murmured. “And did you similarly inquire of this man what conditions had led him to working there?”

“We found ourselves rather too occupied to do much talking,” Enjolras muttered, assuming Grantaire would understand his meaning. He took a deep breath before asking, “Is that…is that what you were hoping would happen when you agreed to help me?”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “This was not an elaborate seduction, if that’s what you mean.”

It had been, but Enjolras felt suddenly foolish for asking. “No. Yes. I’m not sure what I mean. Speaking of my father’s death,” he said, ignoring the look Grantaire gave him at the abrupt segue, “I don’t recall seeing you much in those days.”

Clearly judging himself clean or at least warm enough, or perhaps just tired of sitting in the water, Grantaire stood, and Enjolras averted his eyes as he reached for a towel. “Yes, well. Some of us took it harder than others.”

“The death of my father?” Enjolras asked, confused, and he was so taken aback that he looked at Grantaire, modesty be damned.

Grantaire had a strange, closed look on his face. “The death of what could have been, more accurately,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Enjolras. “It is one thing to want something you know you’ll never have, and quite another for the world to remind you at every turn that it is an impossibility.”

“I’m not certain I understand,” Enjolras said slowly.

Grantaire shook his head, once, before looking at Enjolras. “Ask me again,” he said abruptly, and Enjolras frowned.

“Ask you what?”

“You know what.”

Grantaire sounded almost impatient, and Enjolras realized he did know what, the question that had been answered in the most unexpected way in the pouring rain, the question whose answer still demanded an explanation that Grantaire had promised to provide. “Why did you do this?”

“Because you asked me to,” Grantaire said simply. “Because only once before had you ever asked me to do something, and I failed you then.”

Enjolras squirmed uncomfortably, well aware of that to which he referred. “The Barrière du Maine was not—”

“I failed you,” Grantaire interrupted sharply. “And when presented with another opportunity, I knew this was my only chance to prove I would not fail you again.” He shook his head, bracing himself against the wash stand. “It was meant to be simple, really. One and done, fake married to my sister and then we part as friends with you having consented to try me once more and this time with me proving you correct in your estimation. But you…”

He trailed off, but Enjolras did not try to interrupt again. “I love you,” Grantaire said finally, and even though he had uttered those words once before, they still hit Enjolras just as if he was hearing them for the first time. “That is why I did this. Not to seduce you, or to take advantage of you if that was also something you feared. I did it because I love you, and because you asked me, and if I could not have you – and I cannot, I know that as clearly now as I did the day your father died and elevated you to a position you’ve never wanted, a position that made how I felt for you more of an impossibility than it always had been – then at the very least I could have this.

“It is why I left earlier,” he continued. “Because this, whatever this is, was nothing like I pictured it, spending this time with you, and I could not stand to hear you call everything I have ever dreamed of a fiction, even though it is, even though it must be. For me, every word I have uttered has been the truth, including the words I spoke before the wedding and the vows I made therein.”

Enjolras felt his heart sink in his chest as he remembered how he had laughed at Grantaire’s words before the wedding, how he had brushed off every hint at what the man had felt. He felt foolish for not realizing it all sooner, and, true to form, he took it out on someone other than himself. “Well, why in the world did you not say something sooner?” he demanded.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “When would you have preferred I tell you?”

“I don’t know, at any point in the past decade?” Enjolras shot back.

“What good would have come from it?” Grantaire asked simply, but the words felt like a blow to Enjolras’s gut. “I was...not happy, I suppose, but content, at least, with the pieces of you that I was privy to, with our bickering and arguing, even, if that’s what it took to get your face to flush that delightful color I love so much.” Grantaire’s expression hardened, something bitter creeping into his voice. “And now I don’t even have that. Just this fake, preternaturally nice version of you and all because I suppose you think you owe me something, as if I was doing this all from the goodness of my heart and not because I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Grantaire turned to leave. “You should get some rest,” he said over his shoulder. “I will see you in the morning.”

With that, he left, and Enjolras wasn’t sure if it was just the nature of the bathtub water cooling to lukewarm or something else, but it felt like all the warmth went with him.

----------

Enjolras had a reputation for rash action that he felt was remarkably unearned. Weeks if not months of planning went into every public action he took to assure maximum impact, and the same could be said for his personal considerations. If anything, he was even more deliberative in his personal life – once, he took so long figuring out the best way to tell Combeferre that he hated his most recent haircut that by the time he got the words together, the man’s hair had already grown out.

Still, it was a reputation that lent him credence in some circles, so he did not often push back against it.

But as he lay in bed that evening, staring at the ceiling, his usual deliberations did not seem to be helping him make sense of the day’s revelations.

Once the shock had worn off from Grantaire’s confession, Enjolras found that one thing he didn’t seem to feel much of was surprise. It wasn’t that he had known all along, or anything remotely of the sort. It was just that, looking back on it, all of the signs were there. Signs that Enjolras had ignored, certainly, or pretended weren’t there, but signs nonetheless. Breadcrumbs leaving a trail to this very moment.

And as he pondered it, he realized that the signs were not just from Grantaire. He had left a trail of his own in every conversation, in every action, in – just as frequently – every inaction. He and Grantaire had never had the same type of friendship that he had with each other of Les Amis, or even with Marius. Theirs had always been more complex, more complicated, more— Well, just more.

Nothing from what Grantaire had said had changed that. It had just provided him with a long overdue reason for it.

A reason that to Enjolras did not change anything, least of all his own feelings. It simply illuminated them.

He stood, his mind made up, and grabbed his dressing gown before slipping out of his bedchamber and crossing to Grantaire’s. He hesitated, his fist raised to knock on the door. There would be no going back after this, and a decision of this magnitude required deliberation at the very least.

But it wasn’t rash, he reasoned. It was the furthest thing from rash, this decision having been deliberated for years now if he was being honest with himself.

No, it was anything but rash.

It was just that his mind was finally made up.

He rapped on the door and waited, hoping that Grantaire had not yet fallen asleep, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Grantaire called, “Come in.”

Enjolras opened the door and stepped just inside, leaning against the doorway as he looked at Grantaire, who, though in bed, looked no closer to sleep than he had been. “Is it morning already?” Grantaire joked, clearly aiming for a moment of levity to hide the wariness Enjolras could read in his expression.

Enjolras ignored him. “Would it make it better or worse if I told you that I never once thought you were doing this from the goodness of your heart?” he asked, picking up the conversation where they had left it as if no time had passed.

Grantaire blinked, his brow furrowing. “Why did you think I was doing it, then?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I genuinely had no idea. It was driving me a bit mad, honestly.”

“And now?”

Some of the wariness from Grantaire’s expression crept into his voice. Enjolras just shrugged again, crossing his arms in front of his chest mostly to give himself something to do. “Now at least I have an explanation.”

Grantaire snorted. “And what an explanation it is,” he said, a little bitterly, tracing a finger down the stitching of the quilt as he avoided look at Enjolras.

“It’s almost a gift, actually,” Enjolras said mildly, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“How could what I have said possibly be a gift?”

“Because it gives me the words to use to understand what I’ve been beginning to feel. Or rather, what I’ve been beginning to allow myself to feel.” Grantaire stared at him, and Enjolras took a deep breath before continuing, “I choose my words carefully, you know that more than anyone else—”

Grantaire did, more than any of their friends, as it was he who was always at the Musain late at night when Enjolras grew frustrated with his writing and sought to punch it up. “I do feel at times as if I’ve been little more than a walking synonym dictionary,” Grantaire said faintly, and Enjolras smiled slightly before continuing.

“So I’m not fully prepared to make an equal confession. Not yet.” He paused and took another deep breath. “But when I stood up next to you on our wedding day, it was not fiction for me either. Not fully. And it took, as it always seems to, you shouting at me for me to realize it.”

Emotions flashed so quickly across Grantaire’s face that Enjolras could not possibly track them. He thought he saw relief, and just a hint of smugness, and something so soft that it made Enjolras’s knees feel weak. But then Grantaire’s expression evened out, and the look he gave Enjolras was almost calculated. “I made an oath to myself,” he said, his voice low, and Enjolras felt his heart stop. “I swore to myself that when I kissed you before, that I would never do so again. But I believe I may need to amend that oath.”

“In what way?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire grinned at him, too jubilant to be the smirk he was almost certainly intending. “That I will never kiss you without your full and enthusiastic participation.”

Enjolras was only too happy to oblige.

He crossed the room in three long strides and caught Grantaire just as the man was starting to get out of bed. He cradled Grantaire’s face between both his hands, their noses just brushing against each other, and for one moment that might have been infinite or the briefest of seconds, neither man moved, both just breathing the same air in the mere millimeters between their lips.

Then Enjolras kissed him.

Their first kiss in the church had been chaste, and clumsy; their second, that Enjolras had not even been able to participate in, had been like fire.

This was like a lightning bolt of perfect clarity, the undeniable knowledge that there was no where else in the world that Enjolras would rather be than right here.

And then Grantaire turned it back to fire, teasing the seam of Enjolras’s lips with his tongue until they parted, his hands grasping Enjolras’s hips hard enough to bruise through the fabric. He tugged him down onto the bed and Enjolras was only too happy to comply, eager to rid them of any space left between the two of them, eager to drink in every noise and sigh that came from Grantaire’s mouth, usually wielding words so sharp and now so soft against his own.

Enjolras did not know if they stayed that way for a minute or an hour or an entire day – every option seemed equally likely, lost in each other and this moment years in the making. And when they finally broke apartm neither man moved far from the other. “How was that for enthusiasm?” Enjolras asked, a little hoarsely.

Grantaire laughed lightly. “I’ll take it,” he said, reaching up to card his fingers through Enjolras’s still-damp curls, and Enjolras shifted to pillow his head on Grantaire’s chest. “You should really return to your room, though, lest I be tempted to see just how far I can press your enthusiasm.”

It was an idle threat, and they both knew it: Enjolras knew as he always had that Grantaire would never do anything to hurt him or trespass upon his boundaries. And the kiss had been spectacular and more meaningful than Enjolras thought he would ever find the words to describe, it had also been somewhat chaste, neither man making a move to turn it into something more salacious.

So Enjolras merely tipped his head up to capture Grantaire’s lips again. “Let me sleep here,” he murmured, his lips moving against Grantaire’s.

Even as he said the words, he knew he did not just mean for the evening. This was not just one night between them, and even if he was not yet ready to return Grantaire’s confession from earlier in word, he knew that he was ready in practice. He was asking for so much more than one night – for a lifetime more.

For one life and one love.

Let me sleep here until I die.

Grantaire sighed, and Enjolras wondered if he knew what Enjolras felt in that moment, if he understood what he was asking, if he felt the same way, too. “I am, as always, helpless to refuse,” he murmured, but the way he wrapped his arm around Enjolras’s waist and pulled him close told Enjolras that he had equally little desire to let Enjolras go.

It was Enjolras’s last coherent thought before Grantaire kissed him once again, and when sleep finally claimed them, he fell asleep with a smile.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #bridgerton au #regency au #canon era #chaptered #developing relationship #fake marriage #part 7

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