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myfandomprompts · 1 year

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Is there anything left for us? || Will (Salad Days) || (2/2)

Will x Reader [Part 1]

Summary: You've been struggling with your feelings for Will for years. Then he calls you after the worst mistake of his life and you feel the world crumble around you.

Word count: 5.6K

Warnings: smut, angst, swearing

All reason aside, I just can't deny, love the guy ♪

"Will... where is Matt?"

And just like that, he was escaping your gaze again.

He bit his tongue, thinking over what to say. “He… he left town. I think.”

“Will…” you breathed out, the both of you knowing perfectly well that you would see through his lie.

He lowered his head, gaze on his bandages, sighing. “How did you know?”

“Leah. She just told me that Tom was…”

“You talked to Leah?”

“Yeah. She hasn’t heard-”

“Tell me you didn’t tell her I was fucking here.”

You pause, thinking of what to say before answering. “No, of course not Will. She is just worried, and honestly, I am too. Don’t you think I can see what you are going through at the moment?”

He stressfully messes with his hair again before taking a deep breath. “’sorry…”

“It’s okay…” you reply softly, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him in an attempt to soothe him. You had no idea how he would react if you did, but needed to have him close, to act. So you chose to be the one to put your head on his shoulder.

He let you.

“… he brought up my mum,” he whispers after a bit, making you frown next to him. “He talked about her and I just…”

You felt him tense beneath you, his voice definitely growing weaker. He had talked about his mother only once in all of the time you had known him, and even though you had wanted to, you had never dared bring up again.

“Matt?” you risk, not daring to raise your gaze at him.

You hear him sniff loudly. “I fucked up Y/N."

Saying that, he looked at his bandages again, and it hit you. Will was hot-blooded, and Matt was loud-mouthed. They had just robbed a store, Tom was caught, and they panicked. It was not difficult to guess that things had escalated. You swallowed but managed to keep your cool as you slowly withdrew your head in order to look up at him. The top of his cheeks were reddened by sorrow, frustration, regret.

“Can you tell me where he is, Will? Please. Leah’s worried. I won’t tell her anything else I swear.”

You heard him swallow before shaking his head, not looking at you, and you were doomed to stare at the way his eyelashes cast shadows over his blue eyes, contrasting with his skin.

"No… no I can't do that, he's just… he's…"

He took a deep breath again and the pain in his face disappeared as he forced himself to control his emotions.

"He's what, Will?" you press gently, tightening your grip on his sleeve. "Will?"

His eyes meet yours, and beneath the hard blue you see guilt, and it makes your skin shiver. How much you hated seeing him like this.

"Why are you not afraid of me?"

His question makes you blink, but you maintain his gaze, expecting to see something, anything that indicates that he was joking. "Why would I be? You're my friend."

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t figured it out. You talked to Leah, you know that…” he clenches his jaw, withdrawing from your gaze and into the emptiness. “You know what I’ve done. So why are you not terrified of me right now?”

Your lips part in disbelief as you watch his breath quicken and his eyes grow dark.

"I don't know what you are imagining in that head of yours but I am not scared of you. I'm scared for you, Will," he inhales in relief. "You might not see it but I'm here for you, always have been."

"That's not true," he instantly says, and even though he had lost that angry glare in his eyes, the hurt you now saw in them had worsened.

"What?"

“You’re not… You left. At the party. You fucking left like it didn’t matter to you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, swallowing before uttering what you were afraid of talking about, but the question burning your lips. "Is that why you went to Leah?"

You hadn't meant to sound so sour, but you did, and you instantly regretted it.

But Will didn't seem to notice it, his eyes slightly widening. "...She told you, didn't she?"

You considered lying for a moment, but you couldn't, it was Will. Instead you gave him an apologetic look, one that gave enough answer.

He let out a low groan, getting up before you could stop him, and walked away from the couch in obvious agitation.

"It's okay," you caught up with him, worried to have upset him further, "I always knew you liked her, and I'm… sorry I left. I wish I hadn’t."

Will turned to you abruptly, his expression a mix between hurt and anger. "You know nothing," he fumed, pointing a finger at you, his mood drastically changing before your eyes. “You left… You fucking left that night, the only person I could- the only person I-"

He didn’t finish, the words seemingly too hard for him to say out loud as he shook his head again in frustration. Then he stops moving, face hardening as he stares at you for a long time, as if considering something he could not bring himself to do. There was so much he was saying with his eyes, you couldn’t decipher all of it and it overwhelmed you. His breath suddenly heightened, and without warning he suddenly grabbed his bag and turned away from you.

“I’m leavin’,” he announced, making for the door.

“What? No!” you exclaimed, coming to stand between him and the exit, not believing the scene that unfolded before your eyes.

He took a few jagged steps towards you, eyes shining with determination and a clenched jaw. “Let me pass Y/N. You don’t want me here, trust me on this.”

“But the police…” you let out, thinking fast.

“I’ll take my chances.”

"No,” you state firmly, pressing yourself on the door frame so you could meet his merciless gaze. “You called me, I came, so now you let me help you.”

He stares at you, chest heaving, his knuckles gripping the straps of his bag between you both. He looks at a loss, eyes searching yours frantically for something to argue with and you see him lick his lips in annoyance, his frustration radiating off of him and making you tense in turn. You would not let him leave, he just had to understand.

But after the heavy silence something flashes red in his eyes, his threatening demeanour found again and he is suddenly advancing on you, watching you like you are some kind of nuisance he wants to get rid of in the most horrid of ways.

You know that look, and you swear to yourself that you will not falter under it, whatever may come.

“Do you know what I do? What I really do?” he starts, voice a low growl that reverberates inside your chest. “I lied to you, Y/N. All those years, I just steal, con, and fuck people up, because that’s apparently all that I’m good at.”

��Will-”

“No,” he interjects, angrier than before and you try to keep your composure despite the way he glares down at you, towering over you as if he wanted to leave you no space to breathe at all. “There is just nobody that fucking cares enough to see me, so I just do it. Because I’m good at it, and because it feels good. You think you know me? You think you can help me? Well, you can’t.”

You are certain he doesn’t realise it, but the hurt in his eyes is more apparent than his anger, and it makes you speechless. Speechless enough not to retort that you do know him, that it was just a matter or self-trust on his part. You desperately want to tell him that you would do anything to help him. But the way he looks at you makes you unable to move, frozen.

Your silence only fuels his resolve further as he leans towards you, one of his hands coming to rest on the door frame right next to your hair, his bag forgotten on the floor. You inhale sharply, feeling the intensity of his emotions reach under your skin like hot steel, trapping you, but you still try not to blink and hold his gaze.

"And now, I’ve led the guys to an armed robbery, in a fucking store, because I could. Because it would bring me money. And we got it. I stole my fucking nan’s car and I did it. Then you know what happened?” he continued, bringing his face ever closer to you and you had to press your feet against the door frame to avoid your bodies from clashing, your head hitting the hard wood. “I kidnapped a guy, because I had to. Because the guys were fucking lost, and I had to handle everything, otherwise we were fucked. And guess what happens to witnesses, Y/N?”

He let the question hover in the air for a moment, watchful of your reaction, voice hoarse from his confession and the trace of his voice left on your skin. You don’t know if it’s the lack of fear in your eyes that makes him hesitate to continue, but when he speaks again there is something shaking in it.

“We make them disappear,” he almost whispers, eyes roaming your face. “I did what I had to do, and I got rid of him.”

He looks lost in thought for a moment, gazing down somewhere near your neck before meeting your eyes again.

You know what he wants, and you know how much you are willing to fight him on this. He wants to scare you, to make you yield, and you want to scream no at him, but it’s not what you do. But instead you draw shaking breaths and find your voice again.

“It’s not true,” you breathe out, shaking your head, nose almost brushing his in the process. “I know you didn’t kill him. You released him.”

You thought he was about to snap at you again, the sharp inhaling of his nose putting you on your guard, but instead he does something you hadn’t expected. His head lowers over your shoulder like it was too heavy for him to handle, as if his body had drained out of all energy while he exhales deeply, his hand on the door behind you as sole support.

“It’s not the worst part Y/N…” you heard him say below your ear, almost in sorrow. “Tom… Matt…”

You try your hardest not to move a muscle as he lifts his head from your shoulder to look back at you, bringing his other hand between your faces and looking at his bandaged knuckles.

“I beat up my best friend. This-” he points out, flexing his fingers in front of your face, “is what came from it. I beat him up, because I wanted the money. Because I was jealous.”

He emphasised the last word with a bitter tone, his face full of pain as he finally let his hand fall to your side.

You can’t help but widen your eyes a little at the thought of them fighting. Of Will winning.

He must have noticed, because his lips twitch and all the anger disappears from his face, his gaze pins you where you're standing. "So, terrified yet?”

Your eyebrows contort in hurt as you slightly shake your head, the hands at your side coming to take his elbows gently. “No. No I’m not,” you state softly, earning a confused look from him. “I know you didn’t want this. You told me earlier. Will…”

“You’re fucking not hearing me,” he warns furiously, eyes a little threatening as he pushes himself from the wall.

It gives you the opportunity to take his arm and hold on to it, to never let go. “No, Will, you’re the one not listening. Matt is not dead, you are with me, and I don’t know why you lied about so many things, to me, to the guys… But it stops now. You know you can trust me, and I won’t let you think otherwise.”

“Stop that,” he mutters harshly, making you stop in your words by the way he steps away from you with hurt, making you lose your grip on him.

“Stop what?”

“Pretending like you fucking care. You don’t, nobody does. It was pretty fucking clear when you left the other night, you didn’t even try to understand. I… I want to trust you, but it's just too hard, there are things that I can’t…” he trails off again without finishing, and you are left with his anger and spite again. “At least if you don’t care, it makes it fucking easier.”

You feel blood pounds in your ears from his accusation, your lips parting in disbelief. “Is that what you think? That I left because I didn’t care? You have no idea how untrue it is Will,” you exclaim in irritation. “It was just, hard for me to… to…”

“To what?” he presses, searching your eyes, clearly pissed off while you search for the right words. But none are found and you are left to stare helplessly at him, unable to admit the selfish truth. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he sneers.

The hurtful words he utters seem to awaken something in you like a hot flame, the realisation that you are slowly losing him for the first time in your life, and your instinct kicks in, pushing you forward and closing the space between you, capturing his lips without warning.

You feel him freeze against you, but your mind is empty, focused on proving him wrong, your muscles only controlled by your feelings that you let flow through your touch as you press your hand somewhere over his shoulder. It’s surreal, like everything falls into place until you realise what you’re doing and feel mortified. You detach your lips from his but one of his hands is now firmly holding the back of your neck, holding you into place. Still he hadn’t moved, nor said anything and when you open your eyes there is just him, his scent, his touch and the way his eyelashes brush your cheek as he opens his eyes.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

Then his other hand cups the other side of your face and takes your mouth again, kissing you hungrily and you feel momentarily lightheaded. You don’t understand what exactly is happening but you just know that the anguish you have felt for years starts to dissipate in your heart, only to be replaced with a fear that this was only a moment of desperation.

You decide that you don’t care. Whatever his feelings are, you can't help but act on your own, deciding to deal with whatever pain will come later.

You take hold of his shoulders and kiss him back, parting your lips to allow him entrance. You feel all his anger and his frustration pouring into it, his lips as soft as you imagined, tasting like cigarettes. It’s comforting, like something that you had known all of your life, and you reach for his hair, for the softness of it, daring to press your body against his.

It’s warm, hard and soft at the same time, the accumulated tension having not completely left his body yet and you bask in it. After a time he parts for air, voice only a whisper.

“How long?” he asks, fingers tangling in your hair, making you frown.

“What?”

“How fucking long, Y/N?”

You realise that you understand what he means, even though you would have preferred not to. Above all, you don’t want to answer it, you don’t want to confess this humiliating truth, that you have hidden those feelings for him for far too long.

“Does it matter?” you pant, nibbling at his bottom lip, trying to make him forget about it.

He exhales, breath hot against your skin and you bathe in the warmness of it. “Yes, it does. I want to know… I want to know how much I missed out… How much I’ve messed up.”

It makes you knit your brow in ache, and you are briefly aware that your back is inches away from the doorframe again.

“You didn’t… mess up anything,” you manage, eyelids half open and hands clutching his shoulders. “You just-”

“This is what I do,” he stops completely, eyes now open and looking at you with your chin between his fingers, gently holding it. “I fuck everything up around me, even the people I care about. I just… never wanted it to be you.”

His pupils are dilated, the blue around it looking at your face, at the movement of his fingers below your lips. You have difficulty comprehending that the knot in your stomach is loosening, that it maybe wasn’t just desperation. All you know is that you don’t want to lose this instant, that no matter the future you will have this to cherish forever.

"I don't care Will. I just want you to see I'm yours."

His eyes dart back upwards and he licks his lips, eyes searching yours frantically as you wait. Then a sound resembling a growl escapes his throat so close to you and he is kissing you again, his body pressing you against the door as one hand takes hold of your waist while the other cups the side of your neck. Nothing else seems to exist as you try to keep up with his fervour, his nose brushing against your cheek and your throat tightening with soft sounds threatening to come out.

His tongue leaves your mouth and travels from your jaw to the length of your neck, and you cannot avoid the whimper that your voice, your fingers in his hair squeezing harder in reaction. When he reaches the hollow of your neck, briefly feeling his teeth grazing your skin, you decide that you had enough and drag him to your bedroom, discarding his vest with difficulty in the process. When you reach the bed you take in his flushed face, heaving body and lusty eyes before you kiss him again, turning so you can make him sit first on the bed and straddle him.

“...must be fucking dreamin’...” he mutters, enveloping you with his arms and pulling you so close there is almost no space for you to move, and you can’t help but laugh softly at his comment and at the overwhelming sensation coursing your body.

You feel the bulge in his pants beneath you grow harder as you rock your hips against his slightly, making you gasp softly and him hiss while you tug at his shirt. But he is faster than you, his hands caressing your back, taking the hem of yours and pulling it off over your head, leaving you only in your bra and he growls. You can’t register what it makes you feel deep in your core because he is kissing you again, hands strongly squeezing at your waist and you have to focus to resume your task on his sweatshirt. While taking off the grey cloth he attacks your neck with his mouth, reaching down to your collarbone and you feel him play with your breasts beneath your bra and you decide that you desperately need him there.

You unclasp it, making you bare before him and he stares for a long while, stunned before diving to take one of your buds in his mouth, his free hand cupping your other breast and squeezing it lightly, sending electricity down your spine.

You moan audibly, his lips surrounding it perfectly and you arch your back in pleasure, finding an angle where you can feel his hardness beneath you right against your core. You grab his hair and lift his head from your chest to kiss him again making him groan, and you fear for your sanity with the sound so close to your ears. His hands trails from your breasts to the curve or your ass while you finally get rid of his shirt and you follow his lead, lifting yourself up from him to allow you to take off your bottom layers. While he does the same, you stretch to reach for a condom in your nightstand’s drawer, and he takes this opportunity to come hovering over you, kissing up his way from your thighs to your stomach, to your breast and neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises, his cold chain dangling against your skin on his way up, both the coldness of it and the husky way he talks making you shiver. “...always… wanted to do this,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again.

You can’t help but listen to that feeling of uneasiness that remains in your mind and heart. “Really?” you ask, your hand on his cheek to keep him inches apart from your face, thumb caressing it.

He exhales, his hot breath tickling your skin as he stares down at you, eyes hooded but more focused than before. “Yeah… I went to her, Leah…” he states, nervous about uttering her name in this situation but feeling like he has to, he has to explain it to you. “Because deep down I knew I would never get her. But you… With you I was…”

You can hear the missing word echo in your mind, “afraid”, and you feel something in your heart melt. You allow him that silence, choosing to do the same and keep the many names you want to throw at him for being so damn stubborn. Instead you caress his cheek with affection, losing yourself in the blue of his eyes before reaching for his chain softly and pulling it down, forcing him to meet your mouth.

You stay like this for a while, enjoying the renewed passion and the unsaid feelings between you before pushing yourself up on the bed and positioning yourself before him. He watches you rip the wrapper and when you see his erection you can’t help but wet your lips. You momentarily wonder if the rubber will be the right size, but you make quick work of it and it fits, making your insides roar in delight. You barely hear him at that before he drags you into a kiss again, pulling you closer on the bed and flushing his body against yours. Soon you are back to straddling him, firmly holding on to his shoulders and him to your hips so you can hold yourself comfortably. Your wetness meets his head, spreading the slick there and you suck in a sharp breath when you lower down onto him, his thickness making you shudder.

When you enter him you both curse, you in a loud breath and him in a hiss, and your foreheads come to press against each other while feeling the birthing bruises of his grip on your thighs as well as the burning of your walls adjusting to him.

You’re glad you still have control over your trembling thighs because you’re not sure you can go further down for now. The amazing feeling it already gives you as you move up and down over his length, taking him a little bit further each time is already so overwhelming that you forget to regulate your breathing. You feel him tense beneath you, kissing you sloppily while you continue your movements over him, growling against your mouth, both of you panting. When you dare quicken the pace you can’t help but whimper, his cock hitting all of the right spots inside of you as he ruts into you, meeting the rolling of your hips with a delicious rhythm.

It’s just the two of you, pressed against each other and unravelling all of the frustration that ever settled between you. You can feel his tongue trail back over the skin of your breast and nipples as you clench around him, eliciting a growl out of him before he tightens his grip on your hips again and makes you come to a stop. You can feel his dick twitch against your walls and the harsh heaving of his chest, face contorted in lustful pain.

“Fuck-” he pants when he squeezes your hips harder. “Get off, now.”

You whine from the loss of him inside of you when he lifts you up, making you lay back on the bed, and you watch helplessly as he takes hold of your knees, lifting them up slightly and parting your legs further before he is positioned before your aching cunt. You barely have the time to see him lick his lips in hunger before he flattens his mouth over your folds, sucking in exactly like he had done over your nipples and you moan deeply. Both the surprising turnaround and the softness of his tongue on your clit heighten the sensation tenfold, the parts of you previously stimulated and the currently stimulated one creating an amazing mix of pleasure.

Your hand goes for his hair, tugging at it for dear life as he continues his ministrations on you, lapping at your folds. The way you pull his hair makes him let out a satisfied grunt and you gasp at the sensation, the tip of his nose brushing your swollen bud when he looks up at you with darkened eyes.

The building pleasure soon becomes too much to handle and when you reach your peak there is his name on your lips, the way you scream and shake not stopping him from sucking your overstimulated clit through your climax. After a while your breathing slows, your vision clears and you feel his hands caressing your thigh and the familiar scent of him reaches your nose again when he comes back to kiss you, his chain resting in the hollow of your neck. You can taste yourself on him and the way he devours your mouth makes you a whimpering mess again while you wiggle under him with the aftershock.

You feel the fire being reignited within you when you lock your thighs around his hips and adjust yourself so you can feel his cock against your stomach, still hard and ready.

The wait seems endless for you before he plunges into you again, your warmth surrounding him making him hiss with desire and the delicious sensation comes back very rapidly deep inside of you. He goes all the way in, his head meeting your cervix roughly and the brief pain as he starts pounding into you makes you clutch at his back with a moan. You meet the roll of his hips, your late overstimulation a delightful addition to the way he is thrusting against your inner walls and the coiling tension comes back, heart racing in your chest.

You don’t know how long you enjoy the gorgeous feeling of him thrusting into you with ragged breath over your lips before you sense your muscles tightening and his cock throb, his gaze heavy as he watches your pleasured expression change to one of ecstasy. When the tension in your body snaps you convulse around him and let out shattered moans, making him twitch in reaction and reach his release with a strangled noise.

When he goes limp beside you he kisses you again, both of you panting in unison and there is nothing but both of your hot bodies against each other, you still shuddering from the aftermath.

He takes his time to caress your arm after softly withdrawing out of you, eyes hooded and exhausted in pleasure before going to the bathroom rapidly. You take that opportunity to settle your breathing and clear your mind of the wonderful moment you just had, and can’t help but reach for your phone in slight dread, something tugging at you to come back to reality.

Leah’s texts are numerous, but reassuring in some way. You stare at your phone sadly, hesitating.

“What is it?”

Will has reappeared and he is approaching you. You put down your phone and form a sentence you want to be somewhat encouraging. “It’s Matt… He finally came home a while ago, and Leah wants to bring him to A&E. Other than that he is… alright, considering…”

You let your words hang up in the hair while you witness Will deeply inhale, expression unreadable and come to lay beside you on the bed, shuffling the covers.

“Will?” you try, unsure as you turn to face him.

He doesn’t say anything but silently takes hold of your waist and brings you against him on the bed, making you lay face to him, bodies pressed against each other, needing you close.

You watch him intensely, the way his eyes seem to flicker in remembrance of what happened only hours ago, the events that earned him those bandages on his hands, and you take one of them resting on your side.

“Will you take care of Nan for me?”

You part your lips, a little at a loss and ignoring the ill feeling in your chest. “Wh-Why? I mean… Do you intend to turn yourself in?” you stammer, the hard reality coming back in waves in your comfortable shared cocoon.

He fidgets slightly besides you, eyes filling with uncertainty and helplessness. “I… I don’t know.”

You cup his jaw and he leans into your touch. “I don’t want you to go…” you whisper. “You could stay here, forever. They won’t look for you here.”

He sees your half smile and you almost see the ghost of his, but his expression turns sour again. “Will you come with me if I do it? If I turn myself in?”

“Yes, of course,” you say with a weak voice, still in denial that it could, or will happen. But a worse feeling settles in your mind, dread, and you feel your lips moving on their own. “Will… there is something that I need to tell you-”

“No,” he cuts, but his voice is so soft you weren’t sure it was his. “Don’t… make it harder than it already is. Please Y/N.”

You bite your lips as you feel your eyes burning, but you don’t let the tears appear.

He is right. You can’t tell him your true feelings like that, not when everything is on the verge of changing.

You nod weakly, and he can’t look away from you, like a silent discussion going on between the two of you, yet you want to tell him so many things. In the silence and the touch of his fingers over your skin and hair, a comfortable atmosphere settles and his exhaustion becomes more apparent, taking over you as well.

You see him close his eyes as you lean into his warmth convinced that he fell asleep as you drift off in turn.

Only he is not. When you fall asleep, he opens his eyes again, his mind too filled with anguish to allow him to sleep and he is left to watch your relaxed face and your soft breathing. During those sleepless hours, he thinks that he regrets everything, pushing you aside, not letting you in enough, you who saw the best of him when there was nothing to find there. He regrets arguing with you, letting his frustration over his own choices surging over you, and he regrets that he involved you with his mess in the first place.

You didn’t deserve that.

When you wake up it’s still dark outside, and Will is not there anymore. You first believe that what occurred the night before might have been a dream, but there is his recognisable scent around you that shuts your doubts.

You try not to give in to panic, half tempted to search your flat just to be sure, but the sight of a single piece of paper on your night stand makes you abandon this idea and your heart drops in your chest.

You take it with care, ache filling you when you recognise his writing.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t do goodbyes, and I don’t think you would have let me anyway.

I’m sorry we had so little time, and I know it’s all my fault. I told you, I always fuck it up.

And yeah. I love you. I’m sorry I never got to say it before. On paper it feels easier, but you’re just there and I just have to say it, even if it’s not out loud.

Please take care of Nan for me.

William”

There are no tears in your eyes at first when you stare blankly at the paper.

You don’t understand and there is this nagging feeling that something is wrong with what you are reading, but you shut that emotion off and let space for your tears to flow, one hand coming over your mouth to stop any sounds from escaping.

If he was going to prison, you could visit him, it didn’t have to be the end.

You look at the time and decide to find out for yourself.

You get dressed and on your way out you phone Leah. She is at the station with Matt, she sounds tired and when you hang up you decide to drop by Will’s first, to check on his nan. On him maybe.

She is alone, already in front of a cup of tea this early and when she asks you where your friend is, you can't answer her.

When you arrive at the station, the police don't realise who you are yet, giving you the opportunity to find out that Tom and Matt are in a very bad situation, that Leah had been with him all night, and Will… is not there.

The money is gone, and there are no traces of him.

He ran off.

A/N: There is no words to thank @arcielee, @babyblue711 & @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan for their amazing work and help from them. This fandom is truly amazing.

The scene of the bonfire party was written, but I don't know if I'll publish it. Seems good as it is.

Taglist: @fan-goddess @chainsawsangel

#salad days #fic #will salad days #will #ewan mitchell #smut #angst #os #oneshot #usermyfandomprompts

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liamgssunshine · 3 months

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SHE MAKES ME CRY (liam gallagher x reader)

characters: liam gallagher x reader

summary: you had just come back from seeing your mum who you haven’t seen since your were 15, leaving you in bits when you came back home…

warning: fluff, language, just overall soft liam, sad topics, slight panic attack, drinking, cuts, blood.

my mind raced as i stepped out of the apartment, i had just seen my mother who had left me when i was fifteen and now she wants to be back in my life like nothing happened, like she didn’t hurt me or stab me in the fucking back when she left unexpectedly. i stepped into my taxi, brushing my hair out of my face trying hard to not cry.

i took deep breaths through my mouth and my nose as all i thought about those years that she wasn’t there, i was stuck with my dad who picked up all the pieces when she was gone. can’t a girl crave a motherly love, can’t a girl love her mum in peace without her leaving.

i dug my nails into my thigh trying hard to not cry in this taxi, i didn’t want to cause a scene let alone talk to anyone all i wanted to do was go home and sleep. liam was out at rehearsals so i knew he wasn’t going to be home at this time especially since it was a saturday, after rehearsals he would always go to the pub calling me down every night which made me even worse.

once i arrived at our apartment building i passed the taxi driver the money before heading inside, my legs began to shake within each step i took, my eyes glistened with tears as i held onto the railing for support as i got to the front door.

my hands shook as i tried to find my keys in my bag, once i got them i opened the door to see beer bottles on the kitchen counter, he must’ve been here. i let my bag down on the couch before gathering all of the beer bottles a single tear rolling down my left side of my cheek.

i wiped it with my sleeve as my lip trembled, i threw the bottles in the bin almost smashing them before i took one out of the fridge popping the cap off as it fell onto the floor.

i sniffled up as i sat on the cold floor resting my back on the white walls, i guess it’s just parents for you. i took a sip of my beer staring at the wall in front of me, rage boiled inside me i pulled on my shirt making it rip as i threw my shirt across the room leaving me in my bra.

by now i was an emotional wreck, i sat there for about an hour thinking things through but that didn’t even help, i rested my forehead on my knees as i pulled my legs up to my chest, my beer was empty so i smashed it, i smashed it so fucking hard onto the floor forcefully.

i looked down to see my palm bleeding really bad as i groaned out, i used my left hand to grip ahold of my phone to call liam. before i could dial the number a voice was talking outside of the door as it opened and shut, i looked up to see a hazel haired man, his eyes blue as he wore a blue sweater.

my eyes were red and puffy from crying as, my legs and bum became numb from sitting on this floor for an hour. i watched as his eyes widened at the sight he just saw. his face went from cheery to scared and worried in an instant ‘what the fuck. n/n yer alright?!’ his voice was filled with worry as he hurried over to me.

i nodded my head as he ran his fingers across my under eyes noticing i had been crying ‘oh baby.’ he sighed wiping my tears away from my face as he looked at my hand ‘holy shit.’ he quickly hurried to not the kitchen finding a random cloth pressing it down onto my hand.

‘the fuck happened ey?’ he spoke his voice was comforting not like usual, he brushed a strand of hair stuck to my face out of my way as i winced at the pain, i held my tears back my eyes watering ‘i-its nothing’ i shook my head watching as he wrapped my hand up in a bandage ‘it don’t look like nothin.’ he raised his eyebrows.

i didn’t respond as he sighed ‘come here yeah.’ he gently carried me from the kitchen, my legs wrapped around his waist resting my neck on his shoulder, letting my tears fall onto his sweater, he ran his fingers through my y/h/c locks making me feel more loved than ever.

he placed me down softly on the bed, as i sat up my knees to my chest as i rested my chin on them. he went over to our wardrobe pulling out some shorts that didn’t have blood on them and a baggy shirt.

i opened my mouth to start speaking ‘i-‘ before i was cut off ‘nah don’t speak yeah, let me look after you sweetheart.’ he smiled before unclipping my bra helping me out of it, he placed the shirt onto my body and slightly helped me out of my jeans.

‘you gotta stand up, can you do that?’ he asked me as i nodded ‘put ur hands on me shoulders.’ he took my hands placing them on his shoulders as he unbuttoned my jeans watching as they dropped to my ankles, he lifted my foot to take them off each touch to my skin made me feel warmth.

at this moment i could cry a river of tears, not because of my mum because of how caring he was, he never ever seemed like this never, but he was so caring. he helped me into my shorts kissing my stomach making sure my shorts weren’t too tight around my waist since i had a thing about things being too tight around me.

‘are you alright?’ he asked me as i nodded his hands comfortingly running up and down my back ‘good, let’s get you in bed yeah.’ he spoke ‘i-it’s only five, aren’t you going to the pub?’ i asked him a hint of sadness growing in me hoping he wouldn’t leave ‘why would i leave ya like this aye? i ain’t that bad am i?’ he kissed my cheek as i let out a small giggle ‘that’s the spirit.’ he smiled kissing my forehead

i got into bed, the blanket covering me as i watched liam take his sambas off, i rested my head on the pillow comfortably as my hand began to ache. he got into bed with me as i furrowed my eyebrows in confusion ‘aren’t you gonna change?’ i asked him since he was wearing the same clothes the whole day ‘when you go sleep, jus wanna make sure your alright first.’ he smiled ‘im fine.’ i spoke.

‘you gonna tell me in the morning yeah.’ he asked as i slightly nodded ‘good girl.’ he kissed my swollen lips once more ‘i love you li’’ i spoke meaning what i said ‘i love you more love.’ he smiled before turning the nightlight off…

#liam&noel #gallagher brothers #britpop #noel gallagher #blur #oasis #liam gallagher

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daisyblog · 1 year

Text

The X Factor Audition

When We Were Young Masterlist Summary: YN auditions for The X Factor and is completely shocked when she is put together in a band, with five other boys.

From a young age, YN was always trying to entertain others. She would make up plays to perform in front of her family, sing along to the radio with her father whilst in the car and once she was able to there was a guitar glued to her hands.

So it was no surprise to her family that when she turned eighteen, she wanted to audition for The X Factor. So on a summer morning in June, along with her parents and younger brother, Alfie, YN travelled to her audition in London from her hometown in Brighton.

Once they arrived at ExCeL London, YN was given a strip of paper with her unique audition on it from a crew member and was instructed to wait in the long line. Despite rehearsing the song for what felt like a million times, YN's hands began to feel sweaty and the butterflies in her tummy were erratic.

"Take a deep breath darling" Rose, YN's Mum encouraged "You're going to blow them away"

"Maybe I should audition with you?" YN's dad, Miles joked.

"You'd empty the arena Miles" Rose teased her husband.

"Even if it doesn't go okay...I'll still be proud of you YN" Alfie sweetly interrupted.

"Aww Alfs...c'mere" YN pulled her brother into a cuddle.

After waiting outside in the queue for what felt like days, they were now backstage in a smaller line waiting for YN's turn.

Once YN had been told it was her turn, her family pulled her in for good luck hugs and words of encouragement, before she followed the crew member to the stage. Standing on the allocated mark, she took a deep breath before she spoke to the four judges in front of her.

"Hi" YN manages to say as she takes a deep breath and holds the black microphone in her hand. This is the moment she's been waiting for.

Hi lovely..what's your name and where are you from?" Cheryl asks.

"Uh..I'm YN and I'm from Brighton" YN nervously answers into the microphone.

"And what do you do YN?" Louis speaks.

"I'm in college, studying music"

"Interesting..what are you going to sing for us today?" Simon asks with a stern look.

"Chasing Pavements" YN answered confidently.

"Adele" Simon stated, "Are you sure?" clearly doubting her already.

"More than sure"

"Good luck" Simon nodded his head for her to start. The track begins to play as YN holds the microphone to her mouth.

I've made up my mind Don't need to think it over If I'm wrong, I am right Don't need to look no further This ain't lust I know this is love, but

YN glances at the judges and see's Cheryl smiling and Louis nodding his head, but Simon's expression was hard to read.

If I tell the world I'll never say enough 'Cause it was not said to you And that's exactly what I need to do If I end up with you

As the music built up for the chorus, YN had this boost of confidence as the crowd cheered and began to move around the stage.

Should I give up? Or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere Or would it be a waste? Even If I knew my place, should I leave it there? Should I give up? Or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere

YN couldn't help but cover her tears as she watched the three judges clap and the audience roars with claps. After a few moments, the crowd quietens down and the judges talk.

"YN..babe..that was incredible..you should be so proud...It's a hundred yes' from me" Cheryl was the first to speak, earning a big smile from YN and a thank you.

"You young lady as gonna be a popstar" Louis complimented "yes yes yes"

"YN" Simon's intimidating voice began "I..I won't lie..I didn't think you would be able to sing that song...but you've proved me wrong...so guess what....it's a yes from me"

YN couldn't believe it, her dream was one step closer. Immediately she ran off the stage and into her family's arms. A moment they would never forget.

---

Despite feeling over the moon at being at Bootcamp, YN couldn't help but feel like an outsider. Other contestants seemed to have made friends as they stood and sat together. But YN sat in one of the corners, just her and her guitar. She had just finished performing 'If I Were A Boy' for the judges and was waiting for further instructions when she saw two figures sitting beside her. She glanced in their direction, two boys one with curly hair and the other with a beanie sat covering his head.

"Uh hi" YN greeted.

"Hi..M'Harry..what's your name?" the one with curly hair spoke first.

"YN"

"Louis" the other boy introduced himself. "We thought you looked a bit lonely on your own..so we came to join you..if that's okay?"

"Uh..yeah..I don't really fit anywhere" YN laughed nervously.

"Do you play?" Louis nodded his head towards the guitar sitting in YN's lap.

"Yeah..I've been playing since I was seven"

"Sick" Louis complimented.

"Where are you both from?"

"Donny" "Manchester..well Holmes Chapel" the boys spoke together, making YN smile.

"I'm from Brighton"

"Posh girl" Louis teased.

For the rest of boot camp, wherever Harry and Louis were YN could be found too. YN would be strumming on the guitar and Harry would sing along, but Louis was mesmerised by the girl he had just met, even Harry had begun to tease him when YN wasn't looking, making the Yorkshire boy roll his eyes and swat his arm.

Being told they had been eliminated from the boot camp stage was devastating. Harry, Louis and YN were backstage crying into each other's arms. Harry wiped his tears with his black beanie and wrapped his arms around the pair as they huddled together, waiting to go their separate ways.

"I just don't want to go home" YN sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her jumper.

As the three and the other rejected acts, began to leave a member of the crew began to call them back.

"They're gonna make us cry...make a good bit of TV" Harry mumbled.

The crew member began to call names from the boy's and girl's categories and asked them to return from the stage.

"Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan"

Both the boys left YN's side and followed the others to the stage. YN's name was then called and she walked onto the stage and naturally stood next to the other girls.

"YN..can you go and stand with the group of boys instead please darling" Nicole asked. YN walked over to the boys and Harry and Louis both smiled at her as she stood next to them. "Thank you all for coming back..judging from some of your faces this is really hard..we've thought long and hard about it..and we've thought of each of you as individuals and we feel that you are too talented to look go of..we think it would be a great idea to have two separate groups"

"We've decided to put you both through-" Simon added.

YN and the five boys instantly huddled together and celebrated their second chance. This was just the beginning.

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @peterholland04

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gorbalsvampire · 3 months

Text

Clarimonde Explains It All

She’s not what I expected.

You say “elder vampire lady” to me and I’m picturing floor-length crimson ballgowns, nails and cheekbones you could cut yourself on, lips the only thing about her with any colour in it.

Clarimonde is five-five of boho chic; dress over jeans, big hat on the back of her chair, OG Doc Martens she's not been assed to lace up all the way. She does have long nails, but I’m pretty sure they’re fakes. There’s a tiny glass on the table in front of her, and it’s empty; can she keep it down?

She leans back to air-kiss Dominique, real old-school mwah-mwah lovely-to-see-you-babe; introduces herself in French, and smiles when I stutter my way through my je m’appelles and have to say in English, “but everyone except my mum calls me Tish.”

“Tish. My pleasure. So, why has Dominique brought you to see another old lady?”

Dominique glances at me — permission granted — and I explain there’s something I’m not getting from her and she thought hearing it in another voice would be good for me.

“I’ve lived a very boring life, my dear. Dominique has been around the world three times and left a trail of nonsense in her wake, what could I —“

“It’s the way you tell it,” says Dominique, rolling her eyes. “And of the two of us, who’s been on television?”

It’s Clarimonde’s turn to roll her eyes, and she does it with a little sniff that’s much more my idea of “elder vampire.”

“I was immortalised without my permission,” says Clarimonde. “You shouldn’t let poets lie to you, Tish; they tell you that you’ll live forever, they neglect to mention ‘as a petty pretty monster who leads innocent young men around by their dicks and away from God’. It could be worse; look what happened to poor Louis and his confessional. How many books of revision to his life story are there, now?”

“For real? The guy from —“

“Yes. The first at least is a true story. There’s a grain of truth at the bottom of all the stories. For instance; mine is truly the world’s oldest profession. I liked being called a ‘courtesan’, I wasn’t keen on ‘moll’, ‘whore’ has always been an insult…”

“What do you think of ‘sex worker’?” It’s out of my mouth before I know what I’m saying. Go for woke, I guess.

“Matter of fact, boring — but honest, which has its charms.” She smiles. “But — to stay on topic, because Dominique is making the face,” and she is, “let me forestall the inevitable question. Him too, and he was a piece of work.”

“The thing Clarimonde does so well,” Dominique explains from her end of the sofa, “is talk about men.”

“About a specific class of people,” says Clarimonde, and her pout looks like she wants to poke her tongue out of it. “Mostly men, who did awful things, frequently to women, and who happened to be like us. I’ve collected vampire stories ever since I was in one, and for the longest time they all had something in common. Take Dracula. Born in the fifteenth century. In the nineteenth, he re-emerges with a grand plan; he’ll move himself to what he’s been told is the greatest city on Earth and he’ll re-invent himself as a modern monster. What does he do when he gets there? Obsess over the first girl he gets his teeth into, and stalk his solicitor’s wife to punish the man for escaping, or whatever mad reason he had. Not just a monster but a failure. Why do you think that happens?”

“He’s got really poor impulse control?”

“And you said she didn’t get it.” Clarimonde laughs behind her hand, and for a second I can see her in costume-drama gear, peeking over a fan. “He’d been around too long. Once he’d been an empire-builder, and he remembered being that, but — did he really remember? Can the mind hold on to what it was five hundred years ago? Four hundred? When we cheat ourselves and say we were better people as little girls, from only ten or twenty years away?”

“I get it,” I say, practically talking over her. “I think. You’re saying he was trying to be who he thought he was, what history said he was. But really, he was… just a vampire.”

“And what a piece of work is a vampire?” she purrs, declaiming at her little glass. “Just a being who thirsts. A paragon of animals. Over time, we forget what else we were. Dominique brought you to me because I’m old. Because there are so few older. I’m a simple girl at heart; I take money and a little blood from people who have both to spare. It’s a simple rule, and it’s not a big plan, and it’s not much to hold on to.

“I keep my memories in stories. I don’t know if I’ve always looked this way, or if I saw that girl pretending to be me and made myself like her. Do you know Louis went back to his maker in the end? After everything he told, everything in that book, he went back on bended knee because he’d started to believe what was made up about him afterwards. He went back to a man he’d tried to kill and he thought he was in love. But he’s still alive, and he’s doing no harm to anyone but himself. And maybe one day I’ll wake up with a rosary in my hand and a pretty boy in my bed and I’ll hope to God he paid for it. That’s what happens when we live too long, Tish. We start believing what they say about us.”

One of the core impulses behind Bloodspell was "literary vampires are real but the version of their stories you get is off." Deconstructing the vampire as antagonist/romantic hero, y'know?

#bloodspell #indie ttrpg #vampire oc #original vampire fiction #oc: laetitia #oc: dorian #oc: sylvester #oc: dominique #clarimonde #la morte amoureuse #interview with the vampire #dracula #(i can use tags for literary references right?)

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envihellbender · 5 months

Note

Buried avatar Gerry

Rating: General Audience

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Gerard Keay, Michael Shelley

Content: buried alive, rodents, abuse reference

Summary: Buried!Gerard goes the Magnus Institute to give his statement, but he’ll only talk to Michael.

—

[WE ARE GREETED BY THE CLICK OF A TAPE RECORDER]

MICHAEL

Statement of Gerard Keay regarding his experience with Hezekiah Wakeley. Recording by researcher Michael Shelley. Statement Begins. [A PAUSE.] So, in your own time, Gerard. Whenever your ready.

GERARD

Oh erm. Okay. So. Yeah. This one isn’t really about mum like the others but I guess that’s the easiest way to explain it, you know? I’ve already told you about the tattoos and mum’s experiments, so next step is how I escaped it. It was her own fault really, she introduced me to my home. I just curled up in the Mother Earth’s arms and never let go. So she messed up, really. Anyway. I was supposed to be getting my buried tattoo, and just like the others it was supposed to be torture… but it didn’t work? Like, okay, so back then I didn’t have mud everywhere and didn’t have the rodent thing.

[THERE IS AN INDIGNANT SQUEAK FOLLOWED BY THE NOISE OF SHUFFLING.]

[GERARD WHISPERS INTO HIS COAT] Hey, y’alright, mate? [HIS VOICE IS LOUDER AS HE TURNS BACK TO MICHAEL.] Sorry, is it alright if Corpsegrinder has a wander around? He’s getting fussy.

MICHAEL

[A SMALL GASP OF SURPRISE, HIS VOICE IS NERVOUS.] Oh! I- yes, of course. By all means. Oh, he’s cute. My boss might not be quite so amenable if he gets out though.

GERARD

It’s alright, he won’t go far. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. So, mum originally did the usual sort of thing. This time she drugged me whilst I slept and had me moved into a coffin. So I woke up, and… it was nice. It was comforting. I was surrounded by all sides and held tight. It was like I was a kid again, swaddled against mum’s chest in a way I can’t imagine mum ever actually doing. It was pure black, my eyes could rest for the first time. The only thing that would’ve improved it was music, otherwise it just seemed like… Comfortable. Pure. Not remotely terrifying. And maybe that was a sign that the thing already had started to grow inside me. Which is definitely possible because I used to climb into the empty graves at the cemetery down the road when I was a kid, I’d be like, 13, and sneak out after lights out and go to just lay in the soft warm earth. I had my cheap MP3 player playing some music and I was completely safe. I fell asleep there sometimes. I was at peace. It was like that but I wasn’t rudely awakened at six by the gravedigger.

But no, right, so I always liked coffins, being wrapped up in small spaces but I figured I was just a goth or something. I used to get my duvet, my teddies, and curl up under my bed with a book, like one of them Artemis Fowl or Animorphs or something like that. So when mum had me locked into a coffin I just curled up happily and fell back to sleep. Didn’t even realise I was locked in. Mum got mad. She had to go further. So next she started dropping dirt on the coffin to make me feel like I was being buried alive, nothing. The only thing that sort of started to work was when she pinned me to the floor, sat on my chest so I could barely breath. She brought Hezekiah round, that was her big mistake I guess? Because he didn’t really scare me. Didn’t want to either. The opposite really. He was- so he told mum he needed privacy to terrify me properly, instead he edged forward, brushed my hair out of my eyes and talked to me for a little while. He put one hand on my shoulder, he told me that he’d be waiting for me by Saint Columba’s Church if I wanted. When he left he told my mum he could help her. I think she thought that meant he’d do what all the others did. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

So I snuck out that night to the Church, it was a Catholic one I’d not seen before. I saw Wakeley stood by the doors, he had two rodents on one shoulder curled up together looking at me with tiny beady little eyes. And honestly? That night showed me how fucking liberating fear was. Mum only ever turned me into a shaking crying mess but Hezekiah showed me true actual terror and it was … I don’t know. Pure. Without ill intent. He saw how happy I was curled up in the coffin, he whispered to me about how he’d never let Mum hurt me again. He even let me listen to my MP3 player and hold a teddy close to my chest. I was surrounded by darkness and music. I felt every pound of earth that was piled on top of me. I stayed there in absolute bliss for I don’t know how long, all I know is when Hezekiah dug me back up again the cold early signs of Spring had turned to warm sunlight and flowers blooming over the old cemetery. Hezekiah was so happy. Mate, you have no idea. That weird guy had a smile from ear to ear and he fucking hugged me. I knew then what the Earth wanted. I knew my Mum wasn’t really my Mum, you know? She was… Something else. Someone who was trying to drag me from my real purpose. You know?

I did end up going back home, Mum was furious but she saw something different in me then. Saw I was protected. So the experiments on me stopped. That was when she started forcing me to hurt others. Like. Her. But. A lot of the time I refused. Only took those to the earth that I knew deserved it. It’s a privilege not a punishment. Mum’s ideas weren’t pure, not at all. [THERE IS A SMALL CLATTERING] Hey, Corpsegrinder, what’ve you got- Oh. Erm, mate, he says you dropped this?

MICHAEL

[HE IS NERVOUS, DELIGHTED, AND SURPRISED.] Oh! Yes! Thank you! Thank you erm… Corpsegrinder? Erm. And you, Gerard. Erm, so I guess we’ll leave that one there? Statement ends.

[CLICK]

#envi writes #the Magnus archives #Gerard Keay #Michael Shelley #roleswap au #the buried #buried!Gerry #tma fanfic

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arcadiii · 22 days

Text

your choice, not mine

you came over to visit. your choice, not mine.

truthfully, i don’t remember the last time we’d been together (it was back in ‘09. you were leaving for university and i was still in school). i didn’t understand it then, why you left. i still don’t really know now. something about being upset with mum and dad (it was the pressure, i know. they were tough on you too).

but that was your choice, not mine.

we haven’t spoken since. after all, we were just kids back then. i didn’t understand and you didn’t care (right? you can’t have because then the silence wouldn’t make any sense). we had a couple years between us, enough to set us apart. we had different interests — you preferred dressing up and going out with friends whereas i liked video games and staying inside.

i don’t think you realise but it would’ve been nice to have you around, it hurts even now to admit. after all, it was strange no longer having an older sibling or someone to look up to (between our sibling rivalry, i don’t think you ever noticed anyway).

still… that was your choice, not mine.

i don’t know what changed but recently, you wanted to talk. your choice, not mine.

my parents (ours, i forget) never gave up on you. and despite the tension, something must have stuck because you were all suddenly talking again, your choice, not mine. but maybe, perhaps after all this time, we could be a family once again (or so you said, i don’t know, you never told me).

so here we are. you and me. again despite these years. your choice, not mine.

they seem nice by the way — your partner and kids. they’re all grown up, just like you and i. i’m not sure what i expected but i think i’m happy for you. you always did talk about wanting a family to call your own.

mum and dad are happy too, can you tell? i’m not surprised, you were the favourite and they’ve always talked about wanting to be grandparents (not that you’d know). they’re good with them, aren’t they? our parents with your kids. you’re surprised, i know, but i think you’d agree that they’re better at handling younger kids much better than the teens we once were.

or maybe, you wouldn’t. i guess you didn’t know me then, or now, but that was your choice, not mine.

and you… oh the impossible you. even as you’re sat beside me, you’re an enigma. a blank spot, a vacuum of empty space. something incomprehensible, something more than what i can remember. it’s been years upon years, and like how you don’t know me, i don’t know you.

i hope you remember, that was all your choice, not mine.

#so i met my estranged older sibling the other day and it was weird as hell #idk what to think about it so i guess this is me trying to work shit out #but writing is helping and making it easier to manage so #writing #vent writing #arcadi writes

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neonlights92 · 2 years

Text

Flip & Reverse It (II)

Your relationship with resident fuckboy Jung Hoseok is anything but simple. Sitting somewhere between hate and genuine friendship is the fact that you’ve always secretly, sort of wanted him.

And then one day you wake up and you’re in Hoseok’s body. And he’s in yours. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.

Genre: rom-com, body swap, (sort of) enemies to lovers

Word count: 10k

Warnings: language and future smut

A/N: I'm baaaaaaack from the dead. Originally, I was going to make this two parts but this story has a mind of it's own. I think part 3 will be the final part. But please enjoooooy <;3

The library, thank God, is almost empty.

Of course it is, Hoseok tells you when you point this out, it’s a fucking Sunday.

Still you’re happy for the peace and quiet when the two of you tuck yourselves into a quiet corner and start scouring books for any kind of answer to your current….predicament.

“There’s nothing here.” Hoseok, at this point, is desperate. And so are you.

He slams the book he was reading down and turns to you sharply.

“It’s all about how to perform the swapping ritual… But not how to get things back.”

You hate to agree with him, but the truth is he’s right. You can’t find anything on reversing things, and the later it gets the more hope you lose.

“Maybe we need to read between the lines,” You suggest, “There’s got to be something here…” Hoseok rolls his eyes. He scoffs.

“There’s nothing. Some evil fucking force hates me and that’s why I’m here.” You feel a sting in your chest. Okay, so the situation isn’t ideal, but why is he acting like there’s absolutely nothing worse that could happen to him?

“At least you didn’t swap bodies with a homeless man,” You try to joke but Hoseok is having absolutely none of it.

He pulls a face.

“At least a homeless man doesn’t have a fucking vagina. What am I supposed to do with that?”

You flush brightly. Oh my god you hadn’t even thought of that.

Hoseok is most definitely going to have to see you naked. He’s going to have to touch your naked body - and quite possibly groom it.

“Oh fuck.” You grunt.

Hoseok has the decency to look a little apologetic for his tone. He winces.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, frowning, “I know this is shit for you too.”

You try not to take it personally. He’s right, after all.

In the long list of awful things to happen to a person this has to be close to the top. You groan and tug a hand through your hair.

“All I can think is that we have to figure out why this happened.” You purse your lips, “Like why would the ritual actually work?”

Hoseok looks exactly how you feel: absolutely clueless. He clicks his tongue and shrugs.

“I don’t know. In that Freaky Friday film the mum and daughter had to learn to accept each other.”

You bite back a laugh. Hoseok has watched Freaky Friday?

“Right….”

“I’m just saying.” He rolls his eyes, “if we’re trying to read between the lines then maybe it has something to do with understanding each other.”

“You mean like we need to learn from one another?”

It’s a surprisingly good guess. Why else would the swap have worked, if not at least to teach you both a lesson?

You had nothing material to gain from this body swap - and neither did Hoseok. In fact, if anything it made your lives a thousand times more difficult.

It had to be something intangible. Something like internal growth.

Character development.

“I mean I don’t know what we’d ever learn from each other,” He shrugs, “But it’s worth a shot.”

You bite back the snarky reply that sits on the tip of your tongue. - that you’re not sure you could ever learn anything from him but that he could sure learn a lot from you - and sigh heavily.

“It’s our only lead at the moment. We may as well see if it works.” You watch as Hoseok pulls your face into a scowl.

“This fucking sucks.”

Just as you open your mouth to say something - probably agree with him - a female voice from somewhere to your left calls out Hoseok’s name.

You watch in horror as Hoseok’s eyes widen, and you feel your heart skip a beat. He mouths one word ‘Jisoo’, and you nod sharply, turning to face the beautiful tall woman that’s made her way towards the two of you.

You clear your throat and try to relax, “Hey… Jisoo.” You hope that you read Hoseok’s lips right, and when the woman’s smile widens you relax a little.

“How have you been?” Her eyes flick towards Hoseok - who is of course sat in your body - and when she turns back to you she has a perfectly plucked brow raised, “Why are you in the library on a Sunday?”

You feel your chest tighten again. The project.

“Uh me and Y/N are working on a project together,” You try to smile but you feel queasy, “Ain’t no rest for the wicked, they say.” You can feel Hoseok’s cringe from across the table but you try to ignore how stupid you’ve just made him seem.

“Oh.” Her eyes brighten a little, and you suddenly realize what’s going on.

She thought you and Hoseok were here together… Out of your own free will.

Like a study date.

She’s jealous. Your heart pinches.

“I thought you’d text me after last time,” She pouts in a way that is entirely too sexy for her own good, “But you never did. I miss you.”

You notice the way her gaze darkens, and you imagine that this is what seduction looks like. Not that you’ve ever tried to seduce anyone before.

Clearly.

“Oh well…” You scratch the back of your head in that way that is universal boy code for awkward and cough, “I’ve been busy. With uh… School.” “And this project,” Hoseok interrupts, smiling anxiously, “We’ve just had next to no time to ourselves. Isn’t that right, Hoseok?”

You nod sharply, “Yeah. Yep of course. No time.”

Jisoo deflates slightly and something clicks.

She’s being ghosted.

“Oh right. Well…” She smiles wryly, “I’ll let you get back to it, then. Bye Hoseok.”

She turns to Hoseok and gives a little wave, “Bye Y/N.” And your heart breaks for her. She’s not even mean.

When she saunters off into the abyss of the library you turn to Hoseok and raise an angry brow.

“That was not nice.” He pulls a face, “It was necessary. She was sniffing around where she shouldn’t have been.” “You ghosted her.” Hoseok groans.

“So what? Jisoo’s like, the hottest girl on campus. She’ll get over it.”

You feel something like anger rise to the surface but you bite it back.

“It’s cruel,” You tell him honestly, “You shouldn’t lead girls on like that.” “Woah. I do not lead girls on,” He rolls his eyes and leans back into his chair, “I know you think I’m a heartless asshole but I don’t do that. Girls know what to expect when they sleep with me. I am a man of zero commitment and I tell them that but they think they can change me. It’s not my fault they’re wrong.”

“So you told Jisoo?” He frowns, “Told her what?”

“That you’re a man of zero commitment.” He nods decisively, “Of course I did. A whore I may be, but an asshole I am not. Every girl I sleep with knows exactly what to expect from me. Girls like Jisoo think they’re somehow special - that I’ll change my mind and date them. But that’s just not me. It sucks that she’s hurt - but she’s only done that to herself.”

You hate to admit it… But he’s kind of right.

Casual sex is just that. Casual.

Hoseok is well within his right to sleep with whoever he wants - no strings attached - especially if he’s made it explicitly clear things won’t go anywhere.

You feel bad suddenly, for what you said to him the other day - about him being a slut and heartless - but you try and push the guilt to the side. It’s not your fault he’d never explained things to you before.

“Maybe that’s what I could teach you.” Hoseok cocks his head, “What?”

You sigh.

“Commitment.” When he snorts out a laugh you hate how much the sound warms your heart.

“I doubt that.” He tells you, shrugging, “I don’t need commitment and frankly… I don’t want it either.”

“Ah. I see.”

He raises a brow, “What do you see? “

You shrug.

“You’ve got commitment issues.”

For a moment it seems like he might be angry at you. His eyes darken and his brow furrows. Then he relaxes and blows out a raspberry.

“Yeah. Maybe I do. But don’t most people our age have commitment issues?”

“Most guys,” You correct, “Yeah. I guess so.”

You can’t help that your stomach drops at the realization. Even though you’ll never admit it to anyone… You always sort of hoped Hoseok wasn’t actually emotionally stunted. That he had the capacity to grow and change. To love someone.

(To love you.)

But now you see that’s probably not the case.

He’s emotionally unavailable. And he seems to like it that way.

At some point Hoseok turns back to the pile of books sitting between the two of you, and you try to ignore the way your heart just keeps sinking and sinking.

“This is hopeless.” He groans, flicking a hand through his hair.

You look up, chest tight.

“Yeah. It is.”

But you have a feeling you’re not talking about the same thing anymore.

It’s four hours later that the both of you give up.

“So now what?” You’re currently sitting opposite each other at a twenty-four hour coffee shop when Hoseok asks you the question. He’s ordered an Americano (at eight o’clock at night what a psycho) and you’re sipping on mint tea.

“I don’t know.” The tears climb up your throat but you push them down, “I really don’t. This is so fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.”

He seems on the verge of tears too, and you try your best to keep it together.

When you woke up in Hoseok’s body this morning the first thing that registered was shock. Then you moved on to denial.

Now you’re just frustrated. Is this going to be the rest of your life? Will you never be yourself again?

You can barely understand the position you’ve found yourself in, but for some absurd reason it’s real and you hate whatever magic, or being or otherworldly powers put you here.

“I guess we have to try the Freaky Friday thing.” Hoseok announces, desperate, “We have to try and learn something from each other.”

“And how, pray tell, are we going to do that?”

Hoseok narrows his eyes, “Can you just - can you just stop being so patronizing for like five seconds? We’re in the same fucking boat here. We have nothing else to go on. I’m trying to help.”

You feel like a fucking bitch.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, that ugly spider of guilt crawls up your tummy into your throat.

You don’t know what it is about Hoseok that makes you act this way - so angry and judgemental - but in the back of your mind you worry that it’s your complicated feelings for him.

You hate how he makes you feel. You hate that you’ve always sort of wanted him and he doesn’t want you back.

But you hate even more that you’re being so unfair.

“You’re right.” You nod, “You’re right. I’m being a bitch. I’m sorry Hoseok.”

The words seem to take him aback. He stares at you for a moment, and then releases a long breath.

“Good. Fine. Great. Let’s - I don’t know. Let’s brainstorm?”

You open your mouth to ask just exactly what he wants to brainstorm, when your cell phone starts ringing. It’s jammed into the pocket of Hoseok’s shorts (the ones you’re currently wearing of course) and you bring it out quickly, passing it to Hoseok himself.

“You need to pick it up.” You tell him.

He groans, “What?” “It’s Sana. She’s probably calling to ask about game night.”

“Oh shit. God forbid you miss game night.” “Hoseok…”

He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, “Fine. Okay. But I’m putting it on speaker.”

He accepts the call quickly, and after a moment of shuffling around, Sana’s voice bleeds through.

“Hello? Y/N?” “Hi. Yeah. Hi Sana,” Hoseok tries to sound bright and cheerful - not at all like someone who’s just swapped bodies with their sort-of enemy.

“Where are you? The boys have just arrived. We’re meant to start at eight.”

“The boys?” The question slips out of Hoseok unbidden. He raises a brow.

“Yeah. Joon, Jimin and Jungkook…” The last name is said with a hint of teasing, “Y’know Jungkook’s been asking about you for the last twenty minutes. He said he can’t wait to play a game of monopoly with you.”

Your heart constricts. Fucking Sana and her incessant matchmaking.

You’ve told her a thousand times that even though he’s nice and handsome, you don’t want to get with Jungkook, but she seems hellbent on setting you up with someone.

God forbid you’re still single at twenty-one. In Sana’s eyes, you’re practically a spinster.

“Oh.” Hoseok’s eyes meet yours and he smirks teasingly, “Well… I wouldn’t want to keep Jungkook waiting.”

No. No, no, no, nooooo.

“No you wouldn’t!” You can hear the smirk in Sana’s voice too, “So get your ass over here.” You know exactly what Hoseok trying to do. You can see it all playing back, in the corner of his annoyingly devious mind.

“I’m coming too!” The words blurt out of you before you can even stop them, “Hi Sana. It’s Hoseok. I’m uh - Y/N invited me to game night before. So I’m going to come too. Y’know. I love monopoly.” There is a beat of thick silence. You cringe, and watch Hoseok’s eyes widen.

Then Sana clears her throat.

“Oh Hobi… Yeah, yeah of course. Feel free. You guys have spent all day on that project right?”

“We have,” You reply, “And I uh - I need to relax. So… Monopoly sounds great.” And then to make it a little bit more believable you add, “Joon and Jimin are there too, right?” “Yeah. We’re just ordering pizza. You guys okay with margarita?” “Sounds great. We’ll uh - we’ll be there soon.”

You grab the phone from Hoseok quickly and hang up before Sana can even reply. Hoseok leans back in his chair, staring at you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, crossing his arms.

“What are you doing?” You squeal, “Are you trying to fuck me over?”

“Excuse me?” “I saw right through that.” You claim, scrambling to your feet, “I don’t have a crush on Jungkook.” He holds both hands up, coming to stand too, “I never said you did.”

“So why were you - why were you smiling like that?” “Like what?” “Like you - like you…” You feel your cheeks redden and you wonder for a moment if you’re overreacting, “Like you were going to flirt with him.” There is a moment of almost unbearable silence.

Hoseok’s expression morphs from surprise… Into teasing. There it is again. That fucking smirk.

Even when it’s on your face, you know exactly what he means by it. And you hate that.

“Oh heavens no.” He barks out a laugh, “God forbid I flirt with him.”

You blush even hotter then, realizing how positively juvenile you sound and despising yourself for it. You try to string together a sentence, but you just can’t, so you do the next best thing and walk out of the coffee shop.

Hoseok follows you of course, but at least the crisp evening air cuts through the heat of your embarrassment.

“I didn’t realize you had a friend, Y/N.” Hoseok continues to tease as you make your way towards his car.

“I don’t.” You tell him decidedly.

“So then why does Sana think you do?” “Because she’s an idiot.”

“Is she?” “Yes!” You cry, exasperated, “She tries to set me up with everything that has a heartbeat because she seems to think the only way I can love myself is through male validation. But I’m perfectly happy on my own. Maybe you don’t believe that, and I don’t care if you do but it’s true. I don’t like Jungkook.”

The rant has come out in almost one breath, and you feel lightheaded by the end of it.

You’re not sure why you’re so adamant on proving to Hoseok that you don’t have feelings for Jungkook, but you figure it has to do with your tiny, little crush on the man currently inhabiting your body.

You hate yourself for it but the candle you held for Jung Hoseok never really snuffed out did it?

“Hey.” He lowers his voice and you pause, turning to face him. His expression is soft now.

“I didn’t - I was just teasing.” He tells you sincerely, “I wasn’t going to flirt with Jungkook, I swear. I won’t flirt with him.” You nod once. Sharply.

“Okay.” “And you’re right,” He sighs, “You don’t need any man to make you happy, Y/N.”

“I know.” He nods too.

“Good.”

A beat of silence softens the atmosphere. Then Hoseok gestures towards his car.

“C’mon. Let’s go. We’ll take my car.”

You regret mentioning the fact that his car is now your car technically, and instead follow him that way.

This is going to be a long night.

You’re right.

It is a long night.

Jungkook, of course, spends all night flirting with you. Well, he spends all night flirting with Hoseok but he thinks it's you and who can blame him, really? You feel yourself on edge the whole time, eyes flitting between the two of them the entire night. Hoseok, in his defense, doesn’t really flirt back. He smiles and laughs, and a couple of times he pats Jungkook’s knee, but for the most part it’s all been entirely platonic.

At some point you decide enough is enough, you need a break, so you stand up and announce you’re going to grab another beer.

“The kitchen’s right through there,” Sana tells you, because of course she thinks this is like your second time in your own house. Because you’re Hoseok aren’t you? Except your brain is still yours and you feel like you might very well just implode on the spot.

Fuck. That migraine is coming back.

Hoseok meets your eyes as you stand and you flick your gaze away. Stop looking at him, you tell yourself sternly.

Namjoon decides to accompany you that way, and you try to encourage yourself. You are Jung Hoseok. You are a casanova. You are a Beta Theta Sigma member. You are hot and you are a man.

“What was that back there?” Namjoon asks the moment the two of you step into the kitchen.

“Excuse me?” “That,” He opens the fridge and grabs a couple of bottles, “If you stared any harder, Y/N would have burst into flames..”

“Oh.”

“Are you… Jealous?” Namjoon sounds unsure, even as he suggests it.

“Jealous?” “Of Jungkook and Y/N.” He clarifies, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean…I thought you didn’t even like her.”

“I do.” You shake your head, “No wait. No I don’t.” “You don’t?” “It’s uh… It’s complicated.”

Namjoon furrows his brow. He licks his bottom lip slowly and takes a swig of his beer.

“I can tell Jungkook to back off.”

“No! Don’t do that,” You cross your arms, “Y/N isnt… She isn’t property. She can - she can flirt with whoever she wants.”

Namjoon scowls. He seems incredibly confused and you don’t blame him.

“What?” “I just mean…” You blow out a long breath, “I’m not jealous Joon. Really. I just - I’m keeping an eye on her. For the project.” “Right.” Namjoon lifts a dubious brow, “For the project.” You’re aware of how utterly ridiculous this sounds. But you can’t have anyone thinking Hoseok has feelings for you. No matter how much a part of you wishes he might, that would only complicate things further when the two of you eventually do switch back.

“Jungkook’s nice though. Can’t believe this is my first time meeting him.”

You’d asked Hoseok earlier if he’d ever met Namjoon’s little brother, and were surprised when he told you he hadn’t. With the amount of times Jungkook visited, you assumed their paths would have crossed.

“Well he’s not really into frats,” Namjoon replies honestly, “Plus he only ever really comes around to hang out with Y/N. He’s pretty into her.” “Yeah. I can tell.” The words sound jealous again, and you wish you could take them back. Namjoon doesn’t say anything though, and then Hoseok appears in the kitchen door frame, halting all Jungkook related conversation.

“Hi.” He smiles at Namjoon and then his eyes fall on you, “Hey.” “Hey.” You greet back, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Can I get one of those?” He asks, and you grab him a beer.

“So…” Namjoon grins, “Jungkook?” You wait with baited breath. Hoseok promised he wouldn’t flirt - but you’re not sure how capable he is of keeping that promise. Is he going to fuck you over? Make it seem like you’re into Jungkook so that if (and when) the swap happens you’ll have an awkward encounter to clean up after?

“What?” Hoseok shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Are you into him?”

You bite your bottom lip and Hoseok's eyes flick towards yours.

The atmosphere thickens.

“No,” You let out a huge sigh of relief at Hoseok’s answer, and Namjoon turns to you again.

Damn. That just made it seem a whole lot like you were jealous.

“We should - we should get back to the game.” You interrupt quickly, not really in the mood for any more of Namjoon’s needling, “I don’t trust Sana on her own in there.”

Namjoon turns to you, expression unreadable and shrugs.

“Yeah. Let’s uh - let’s go.”

He leads the way and you trail after, hanging back slightly to turn to Hoseok and whisper a rushed thank you. His eyes meet yours and he smiles.

“Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

When the two of you join the others in the living room again, Namjoon is still sending you confused looks, but you ignore it, taking your seat beside Jimin and trying to relax the best you can.

“You’re losing, just so you know.” Jimin informs you, delighted.

You laugh at that, shaking your head. You’re not sure how good or not Hoseok usually is at monopoly, but tonight he’s losing because quite frankly you suck at it.

“I know.” “This is a first I think,” He narrows his eyes, “You’re usually more of a sore loser.” You shrug, and try to grin, “I’m trying to be gracious.” “Mmmm.” He still seems dubious, “If you say so.”

You open your mouth to retort with something - you’re not sure what - when the sound of someone sitting beside you stops you short. You turn, watching as Hoseok settles into the seat to your left.

“Oh.” Hoseok smiles, “Hi.” “You were sat beside Jungkook before, Y/N,” Sana tells Hoseok, eyes teasing as she flicks her gaze towards Namjoon’s brother.

Jungkook, in his defense, doesn’t seem offended.

“Yeah well now I’m sat beside Hoseok,” He says easily, “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

There is another awkward beat of silence because what the fuck, but when you meet Hoseok’s gaze you know he’s only trying to help. If he sits beside you, then Jungkook will likely leave him alone for the rest of night, and nobody will make assumptions about the nature of your relationship with Namjoon’s little brother.

Crisis averted. Right?

Nobody says anything for a moment or two, before Jimin clears his throat.

“Ah no. No I guess not. We’ll just shuffle the board around.”

You nod, but you’re not really concentrating on anything else that’s going on.

Because once again, Jung Hoseok has left you absolutely speechless.

The next morning, you wake up bright and early. In Hoseok’s bed.

For a moment, you forget that you’re currently inhabiting somebody else's body. But when your eyes blink the sleep away, you remember and you want to cry all over again.

You spent all night replaying Hoseok’s act of kindness - the way he swapped seats without worrying about what the rest of your friends would think - and your heart speeds up.

No, no, no. This is not good for you.

You’ve been down this rabbit hole before, and it only brought you heartache.

You try and focus on something else - like all the fucking classes you’re going to have to take for Hoseok - and you pick up his phone, unlocking it and opening up the timetable he sent you last night.

He’s in the majority of your classes, which you guess is a good thing, as the two of you can try and stick together as much as possible until you figure this whole thing out…. But there are still some you’re going to have to take alone.

Fuck. This.

A knock at the door brings you out of your slightly depressive episode.

“Hoseok!” It sounds like Taehyung, “Hey. Hoseok. Can I come in?”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to burrow into the sheets of Hoseok’s bed and spend the rest of the week there, but you know that isn’t an option. You sigh heavily.

“Yeah, yeah. Come in”.

The door swings open and Taehyung stands right in the middle of the frame, wearing a pair of low slung basketball shorts and nothing else. You note - not for the first time - how annoyingly attractive he is.

“You have a visitor.” Today he nurses a cup of coffee.

The smell makes it's way to your nose and you groan. Damn you could really use some caffeine right now.

“Wait what? A visitor?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s eyes narrow, “It’s that Y/N chick.”

“Oh.”

You pick up Hoseok’s phone and check the time - eight fifteen - before turning back to Taehyung. He is giving you the snarkiest look of all time and you scoff.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” He steps into Hoseok’s room further and leans against the wall, “Are you fucking her?”

You sit up quickly, gasping.

“What? No?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes, “Then what the fuck is she doing here at eight o’clock on a Monday morning?”

“The… Uh… The project.”

You scramble up, thankful that you stumbled into a full set of pajamas last night before bed. You’ve somehow managed to avoid seeing Hoseok naked as of yet but you know it’s only a matter of time.

You hate to think of what Hoseok will think when he sees you naked. Maybe he already has.

You push that thought away.

“The project?” Taehyung snorts, “Do you think I was born yesterday?” “What?”

“Hoseok, when have you ever cared this much about any project before? You’re fucking her.” His eyes widen, “Oh my god. You’re revenge fucking her.” Your cheeks heat up, “No I am not. I told you, Taehyung. It’s the project.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Right… The project.”

You decide there’s no point in arguing with him. He’s made up his mind -clearly- and you don’t want to think how many times Hoseok has been in this position before for Taehyung to so easily come to that conclusion.

“Where is she?”

He smirks, “Kitchen.”

You stalk of out Hoseok’s bedroom without another word, making your way towards the kitchen and stopping at the sight of your form sitting at the counter.

Hoseok hasn’t quite mastered the art of sitting like a girl yet, but you don’t blame him. Your legs are pulled slightly apart, and your torso hangs forward, like a football coach deciding his team's next move.

Hoseok scrolls through your cell phone and you wonder for a moment, if this is what you look like to everyone else. The posture of course is all off… But the rest of it. The rest of it is you, isn’t it?

“Morning!” You chirp happily, “Buddy!”

Immediately, you regret that choice of word. Buddy. You were going for platonic, but you landed on weird.

Hoseok turns to you and smiles, albeit a little stiffly, “Hi… Friend.” You know he’s teasing you back, but you decide to ignore it.

“What are you doing here so bright and early?”

For the first time since you saw him, you take note of what Hoseok has decided to dress your body in.

A pair of high waisted jeans, a crop top that you think you wore once when you were like eighteen, and platform sandals you bought for a halloween costume.

Great. Fantastic.

Splendid.

“I thought we could walk to campus together and discuss…” Hoseok’s eyes flick towards Taehyung who is (not so discreetly) eavesdropping on your conversation, “The project.” “Ah yes. The project.”

Taehyung scoffs and you turn sharply to send him a raised brow of indignance. He is being impossible. He shrugs and turns away, making his way back down the hallway and towards his room.

When you’re sure you and Hoseok are alone you let out a deep, calming breath.

“He thinks we’re fucking.” You tell him bluntly.

Hoseok snorts, “What?” “Taehyung thinks we’re fucking. And I’m pretty sure Namjoon and Jimin think it too.”

“Add Sana onto that list,” He pouts, “She interrogated me over our relationship for almost two hours last night, after the rest of you left. My God.”

You shiver to think what Sana may have said to Hoseok last night - how she may have inadvertently embarrassed you.

It’s not her fault of course, but considering how convinced she’s always been of your romantic feelings for Hoseok, you don’t doubt she spent the entire evening teasing him for it.

Fuuuuuck.

“I’m sorry.” You say, because you’re not sure what else may suffice.

Hoseok shakes his head, “Don’t apologise. It isn’t your fault.”

“Right.”

“Maybe we should… I don’t know,” His cheeks heat slightly, and his eyes flicker momentarily towards yours. Then he takes a deep breath, “Maybe we should roll with it.”

“What?” “The whole… Us dating thing. Just for now, till we figure this whole thing out. It would make it easier to explain why we are spending so much time together.”

You feel like the entire world has just turned upside down. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loudly it’s the only thing you can hear, and suddenly everything seems like it’s moving in slow motion.

You squeeze your eyes shut a second and shake your head. When you open your lids, Hoseok is staring at you expectantly.

“You want to… You want to pretend we’re together?”

“Well yeah,” He shrugs, “It’s like I say - then people won’t be so freaked out about the amount of time we spend with one another.” “But what about the party… All your friends saw us fight… And I was a bitch to you-”

“We’ll say you apologised. We talked about it and realized we were into one another. Stranger things have happened, right?”

He seems so nonchalant about it. And where you’re freaking the fuck out, he’s shrugging his shoulders as though it’s no big deal.

“But you - you don’t want a relationship. You said you’re a man of zero commitment…”

“Well this isn’t real is it?” He sighs heavily, “Besides, it’s just until we’ve figured out how to put everything back to normal.”

You might throw up.

“I - I mean…” “Plus it’s not like I’m going to be getting any action whilst I’m in your body, right? Win win.” He smiles warmly, and for a moment you’re completely taken aback.

What the fuck are you meant to say?

“I guess. I mean… Okay.” You lick your bottom lip and tug a hand through your hair, pulling at the ends of Hoseok’s short strands, “Yes. Okay fine. It’s a good idea.”

“Great.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times.

The atmosphere shifts.

“Is that… Is that all you came round for?”

“I thought we could walk to class this morning. Really cement our whole new couple thing. We’ve got first period together, right?”

Your mouth is so dry, it might as well be a desert, but you force yourself to nod.

When the fuck did this become the timeline you are living in?

“Cool. So… I guess… Get ready? I’ll wait here. I’m still trying to figure these shoes out without breaking my neck. Your neck,” He wrinkles his nose, “Our neck.”

You snort a laugh at that, “Okay. Cool. Yeah… I’ll uh - I’ll see you now.” It’s only later, when you force yourself to a take a shower (despite having to face Hoseok’s naked body and trying your utmost to respect his privacy and not check out his bits) that the reality of what has happened to you in the last twenty-four hours truly hits you.

Not only are you currently inhabiting Hoseok’s body.

But you’re his girlfriend too now. (Fake girlfriend, technically speaking but… That’s semantics.)

Shit.

Your first day at college as Jung Hoseok goes awfully.

Of course it does. What else were you expecting?

It’s hard enough trying to keep up with all his classes and friend’s names and his fucking schedule. But the worst part of everything - the part you can’t stand - is the questions.

“Are you really dating that Y/N chick?”

“I thought the two of you hated each other.”“Never would’ve pegged you for a nerd guy.”

You hate it all - the assumption that you and Hoseok don’t make sense as a couple - but what else can you do but grin and bear it?

They’re kind of right, too really. You and Hoseok don’t really make sense.

You try to tell him this yourself, when you walk him home after the last of your classes, but he’s having none of it.

“Will you quit it?” He tells you seriously, eyes narrowing at the insecurity written all over your face, “Who gives a fuck what any of them think, anyway?”

“I do. Clearly.” You grumble feeling dumb for having even brought it up in the first place.

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Yeah and why’s that?”

“Because I’m dumb and insecure?” You shrug helplessly, “I don’t know Hoseok. People are probably already talking so much shit about me.”

“This isn’t high school.”

“So? People are still mean.” You sigh heavily, “You don’t get it Hoseok. I’m not cool. I’ve never been cool. Everyone is going to wonder why the fuck you decided to settle down with me of all people.”

Hoseok pauses, and turns to look at you. The fact he’s dressed you in platforms means the height difference between the two of you isn’t as large as it normally is, but he still needs to tilt his head up slightly to make eye contact.

“And if they ask you’ll tell them I chose you because you’re smart and capable and pretty.” His eyes are serious, “And I like you. You make me laugh and you don’t take my shit. Plus you’re the only person I know who actually gives a fuck about getting their degree. It’s admirable.” The words almost cause a heart attack. It’s a punch to the gut - does he really think those things about you? - and for a moment you don’t know what to say.

“Oh… Uh…”

“And when they ask me why you chose to date me… I’ll say because Jung Hoseok is a sex god and a filthy, dirty fuck.” He smiles widely, “Gotta retain at least a little bit of my reputation, right?”

You burst out laughing at that, unable to control yourself. Hoseok laughs too, and for a moment it feels like the two of you might be caught under something.

The way he’s looking at you - soft and warm, like he’s happy to be there - makes your heart clench and you remind yourself once again that he isn’t yours. He isn’t yours and he’s only here because he’s in your fucking body.

“Alright. I’ll let you have that at least,” You mumble back, as the two of you stop outside of your apartment block.

“Well,” He throws you an easy smile, “This is my stop.”

You click your tongue, “Yep.”

“I’ll see you tonight, right?”

When you draw a blank look Hoseok groans.

“The party, remember?”

You feel something flicker in your stomach. The stupid fucking party at the EXO frat, you’d agreed to go to.

“Do we have to...?”

“If we don’t, it will be harder to go to the next social gathering I'm invited to. We have to keep up appearances.” He seems sympathetic as he says it and you know he has a point.

The quicker you bite the bullet, the easier it will be to fool everyone else that you’re actually into each other.

But that doesn’t mean you like the idea.

“Can’t I just say I’m sick?”

Hoseok clicks his tongue, “Look, it's a great excuse for us to show we’re a solid couple, right?”

You stop yourself from actually sticking your tongue out at him and instead settle on a playful glare.

“Fine. But I’m not going to enjoy myself.”

“Duly noted,” Hoseok replies drily, “I’ll ask Sana. She’s probably already going with Joon.”

You hum some kind of half hearted agreement.

“It's going to be fine, Y/N trust me.”

You feel exhausted all of a sudden. Is this going to be the rest of your life? Figuring out ways to hoodwink your friends and family into believing something that isn’t true? Pretending to be somebody else? Having to live a life that isn’t yours?

“Are we ever going to be able to swap back?” The question is small, and you feel so dumb asking it because how can Hoseok give you an answer?

Hoseok gives you a small, comforting smile. He touches your shoulder gently and nods.

“We’ll figure it out. We’re not going to stay like this forever.”

You want to believe him. With everything inside of you, you want to believe that you can both fix this.

But you’re not sure of anything anymore, least of all if you’ll ever live in your own skin again.

“Just… don’t give up, okay?” He’s looking at you so earnestly your heart almost breaks. You nod, silently, biting back the tears.

“I won’t.” And without even thinking about it, you bend down and press a soft kiss against Hoseok’s forehead. Well… it’s your forehead really, but at this point the semantics don’t matter.

Hoseok freezes, but you don’t miss the way he leans ever so gently into the touch. You try to tell yourself you were just imagining things but part of you can’t really deny it.

When you pull away, he’s watching you with careful eyes.

“I’ll see you tonight,” You tell him, straightening out almost stiffly, “At the party.”

Hoseok smiles and nods.

“Yeah. See you later.”

You think that perhaps, today hasn’t actually been that awful. That maybe, maybe by the end of all this you and Hoseok might actually be friends. The thought warms your heart.

Friends with Hoseok. You know secretly you want more, but there’s no denying the impossibility of that ever happening.

So you resign yourself to hope for friendship. And something soft blooms in your chest.

It isn’t until you get back to Hoseok’s home that you are spun quite immediately back into reality. The look on Kim Taehyung’s face when you pass through the front door is enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and die.

“I fucking knew it. You’re banging her!”

Jin stands to Taehyung’s left, a dark brow raised. His arms are crossed and he watches you curiously.

“I’m not banging her…” You grumble, “She’s my girlfriend.” “Same difference.” Taehyung is grinning like the cat who got the fucking cream, “I knew there was something else going on.”

“I thought relationships weren’t your thing,” This comes from Jin, who’s still giving you that weird look.

You shrug, “Well it’s different. With Y/N.” “It is?” “Yeah. She’s different.” You almost cringe at your own words - but there’s nothing you can do it about it. God knows Jung Hoseok has definitely established his position as resident fuckboy pretty firmly by now - but things change, right?

“Don’t tell me you guys are like seriously exclusive?” Taehyung looks like he might pass out.

“Uh… Yeah. Exclusive.” “Fuck.” He scoffs out a laugh that is sharp as knives, “Shit. You’re really into her.” Another nod. Taehyung turns to Jin and shrugs.

“Twenty bucks then, right?”

Jin’s lips lift into a smirk. You frown.

“What?” “Me and Jin had a bet after that night,” Taehyung says this so easily as though it isn’t a big deal. But it is, you think, “The party where the two of you fought. You were so clearly into her. I thought you’d fuck her. Jin thought you’d make her your girlfriend. He won.”

You are floored. Hoseok’s friends think he’s into you? Like for real?

You don’t know what to say.

“What are you talking about?” “Well for one she’s the only girl on this entire campus you haven’t tried to fuck,” Taehyung points out almost studiously, “And whenever you do talk to her, you get all weird. Like you’re trying to impress her.”

You feel yourself flush because what the fuck?

“You’re - I… What?”

“C’mon don’t play dumb.” Taehyung fishes into his back pocket for his wallet, “After that night at the party you were so pissed. That’s only because you liked her enough to actually care what she thinks about you.”

Jin accepts the twenty dollar bill Taehyung passes him, “And we were right, obviously. Because she’s your girlfriend now.”

The tightness in your chest expands.

“Uh… I mean yeah. I guess.”

“She’s coming to the party tonight, right?” Jin’s question surprises you.

You nod and Taehyung grunts.

“Good. She can try and change my mind about her then.”

You resist the urge to tell him to fuck off. After all, the last time Taehyung had seen you around his best friend you hadn’t exactly behaved spotlessly, had you?

“I’m sure she will.” You mutter to yourself more than anything, “I am sure she’ll change your mind.”

The party is throbbing by the time you and Hoseok arrive. He’s stuffed you into one of Sana’s ridiculous minidresses and when you ask where on Earth he thought he was going he just shrugged and told you to chill out.

“I hate this already,” You mutter, feeling incredibly out of place.

“Well Jung Hoseok is usually the life and soul of any party so start un-hating it.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and let Hoseok slip his hand into yours. It feels weird, holding your own hand like this, but you can’t contain the butterflies swarming around your stomach either.

Even if you can’t fully enjoy it - Hoseok is currently holding your hand - and you can admit to yourself that you’d always wanted that.

Always wanted him.

God you’re a chump.

“Y/N!” Sana’s voice pierces through the crowd and you look up, trying to act nonchalant as she cuts her way through the mob of drunk college students.

“Hi Hoseok!”

You nod when she smiles up at you.

“You want to come join us? We’re playing ring of fire.”

You know what you want to say. You want to say fuck no. You can’t think of anything worse to play five minutes after arriving at a party, than ring of fire.

But you force a lazy smile onto your face and shrug, turning to Hoseok and raising a brow.

“Wanna play… babe?” The pet name comes out a little stilted, but it seems to do the job because Sana stifles a giggle.

Hoseok narrows your eyes a little, but he smiles just the same, turning on the charm.

“Anything you want… cupcake.”

You gag in your mouth because what the fuck? Cupcake? You would never reduce yourself to calling somebody something that gross but you force yourself to laugh.

“Okay then. Let’s play.”

Sana laughs too, and if she senses the weird energy between the two of you, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she moves you both across the room into a smaller space - a room that could be considered a dining area if it wasn’t in a frat house.

“You know I’ve been getting questions about the two of you all night,” She throws over her shoulder as she leads the way, “All anybody seems to care about is the hottest couple on campus.”

Her tone is teasing, and you’d heard from Hoseok that Sana had been ruthless when he’d told her that the two of you were a couple.

You didn’t want to think about how she might have potentially embarrassed you.

“We are not the hottest couple on campus,” The words blurt out of you almost automatically and Sana snorts.

“According to most people I’ve spoken to at this party you are.” She shakes her head, “People can’t seem to wrap their puny little minds around it.”

“That’s because they’ve never been around the two of us when we’re together,” Hoseok pipes up, surprising you, “We’re perfect for each other.”

Your chest tightens again and you wonder if you might very well hyperventilate. Is he trying to kill you?

“That’s what I told them! You balance each other well, I think,” Sana sits at a huge round table and you take a seat to the left of her, “I always knew you had the hots for each other.”

Your eyes flicker to Hoseok as he sits to the left of you, and he holds your gaze steady. Breathe, he mouths.

Something about his presence calms you, despite how erratic you might feel inside, and you let yourself sink into the cushion of the chair you’re sat on.

“Well look who it is! The looooooovebirds!” Your eyes flick up to meet with a tall, slim man with charcoal gray hair. A memory flickers in your mind; he’s a member of EXO right? Cha-Cha… Cha-something.

“Shut up Chanyeol,” This comes from Namjoon (ah Chanyeol that was it), “Shit. I forget how obnoxious he gets at these….”

“Obnoxious my ass,” Chanyeol smiles good-naturedly, “I never thought I’d see the day that Jung Hoseok would be tamed! And by a woman, no less.”

You try to roll your eyes in a way you reckon might be reminiscent of Hoseok, and shrug.

“Not all of us can live in perpetual fuckboy territory, Chanyeol. I’ll leave the sleeping around to you, now.”

You pray to the Gods above that Chanyeol doesn’t have a girlfriend and that your joke will land - and sling an easy arm over Hoseok’s shoulder, pulling him closer towards you.

You press a kiss to the side of his head, and drop your mouth to his ear.

“He’s single, right?” You whisper.

Hoseok nods, once, and you relax. Thank God.

“Ooooo. Shots fired. Didn’t mean to offend you, Hobi.” But Chanyeol is still smiling as he says it, and you send him a smile right back.

“Not offended,” You shrug, “Just… Stating the truth.”

There seems to be a weird tension between the two of you, all of a sudden, and you wonder if maybe Hoseok and Chanyeol are not as buddy buddy as you might have thought. You feel Hoseok shift beside you.

“Okay, okay. Enough with the male testosterone,” Sana whines, “Are we going to play, or are we going to play?”

Your eyes flick quickly across the table - taking in the others at attendance. You don’t recognise anybody else apart from one girl who used to live in the same dorms as you freshman year. Momo, you think her name is.

“The floor’s all yours, darling.” Chanyeol smiles wolfishly, and something about that look on his face kind of creeps you out.

Sana starts rattling on about the rules of the game and you find your attention wavering, before Hoseok brings it to hyper focus by pinching the top of your thigh. You look down at him. He’s got a tight smile on his face.

“Avoid him.”

You raise a brow, “What?”

“Chanyeol.” He pushes closer towards you, “Try not to let him get you alone. Alright?”

Your brow creases, “Why?”

“Will you just…” He blows out a raspberry, “Can you just trust me on this?” A moment passes between the two of you. You watch as Hoseok blinks - once, twice, three times. Then you nod.

“Yeah. Fine. I’ll - I’ll avoid him.”

“Everybody understands the rules then, right?” Sana’s voice cuts through your conversation, and the two of you refocus your attention. You feel yourself nodding.

“Perfect. Then let’s begin!”

The game starts, and everything goes absolutely downhill from then on. You try to warn Hoseok several times that you can’t handle alcohol very well - you barely drink it and when you do, you don’t tend to drink the harder stuff. But Hoseok brushes you off.

It’s my brain in here, he tells you, I can handle it.

But he can’t of course. Because his brain or not, it’s a simple case of body chemistry and even though he really tries to keep up with everybody else in the game he just can’t. At one point, Hoseok flips over the glass of the girl to his left, and tries to apologize before flipping over your drink and causing an even bigger mess.

“Sweetie,” You grit your teeth together, “I think you’ve had enough.”

Hoseok turns to you, eyes wide and glassy. It’s weird to see yourself like this. Even though it’s not you - not technically - it’s your eyes and your mouth and your bright red cheeks.

Huh. So this is what you look like drunk.

“Uhhhh….” Hoseok hiccups, “I have?”

You feel something like fondness bubble in your chest.

“Yeah. Shall we step out of the game?”

Momo - that girl who lived in your dorms freshman year - sighs softly, “Shit. Look at him taking care of her like that. That’s so romantic.”

Sana giggles and tries to help Hoseok sit up a little straighter, “It is romantic.” Her eyes flick to yours, “Maybe you should get her some water?”

“Yeah.” You stand, grabbing Hoseok’s hand and pulling him up with you, steadying him when he inevitably stumbles into you, “C’mon baby. Let’s get you some water.”

Hoseok nods placidly, following you as you tug him towards the kitchen. There isn’t anybody else in there and you thank god because Hoseok really is a mess right now, and you can’t really focus on anything else but trying to sober him up.

“Come here.” You lead him to a bar stool and sit him down, pressing his back against the surface of the kitchen counter, to stop him from toppling over.

Hoseok’s eyes trace your face carefully. He bites his lip and smiles.

“Hi.”

You smile back, “Hi.”

“I’m kind of drunk, right?”

You nod, “Kinda.”

“Guess you were right.” He teeters slightly to the left, and you brace him carefully by the shoulders, “Are you mad?”

The question takes you by surprise.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you said I wouldn’t be able to drink so much and I didn’t listen to you.” He gives you a look that sits somewhere between guilty and cute, and if he wasn’t so drunk you might think he’s trying to flirt with you.

“You never listen to me,” You remind him studiously, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to him, “Here. Drink up.”

He takes the bottle and brings it up to his mouth, taking a long gulp and pulling away with a dramatic swipe of his mouth when he’s done. He raises a brow.

“I do listen to you.” He whines, “What about the project? I agreed to do what you wanted to do.”

You purse your lips, “That’s one time.”

“And Jungkook.” He squints an eye, “I didn’t flirt with him.”

“Twice, then.”

“I’m sure there’s others,” He says confidently, “I just need to remember them.”

You laugh when he tries to tap his finger against his temple but fails miserably, using the hand holding the open bottle and spilling water down the front of Sana’s dress, instead.

“Look what you’ve done now,” You chide, shaking your head fondly.

“Woops?”

“Woops indeed,” You grab some paper towels and dab at the front of the dress, trying to take away as much moisture as possible.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hoseok pushes you away gently, “Are you trying to get into my pants, mister? I’m not that easy y’know! I’m a lady.”

He’s smiling now, his eyes a little less glassy, and his face a little less flushed.

“A lady huh?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, studying you carefully - as though he’s seeing you for the very first time, almost.

“Yeah.” He licks his bottom lip once, “A sexy lady.”

You burst out laughing at that, and Hoseok laughs too, before a throat clears itself loudly to your left. Your head snaps round and you find Taehyung hovering in the doorway.

“I heard about your girl.”

“I am not his girl,” Hoseok snips, sounding a little too close to home for your liking, “My name is Y/N.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “Hi Y/N.”

Hoseok lifts an enthusiastic hand and waves.

“Hi Taehyung.”

He trails over towards the both of you and crosses his arms, raising a thick brow, “How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy.” Hoseok hiccups again, “Who knew alcohol could make the room spin that fast?”

Taehyung swallows down a smile and turns to you.

“Maybe you should take her home…”

“But I don’t want to ruin your night,” Hoseok pouts like a baby and you think that might be the very first time your face has ever pulled that expression, “You were having fun, right?”

You shrug.

“It’s alright. There’ll be other parties.”

“That’s right there will be,” Hoseok stands, a little wobbly but on two feet at least, “And I’ll be at all of them too right? Because I’m your girlfrieeeeeend.”

He sings the last syllable of girlfriend - like he’s actually happy about the whole thing. You try not to think back on what Taehyung and Jin said to you before, about Hoseok always having had a thing for you and snort out a laugh.

“Yeah. You’ll be at every single one.”

He smiles, self-satisfied, “Good.”

“There’s no one home,” Taehyung whispers to you, laying on the innuendo thick, “Feel free to make as much noise as you’d like….”

You hate the way your cheeks pink at his suggestion and even Hoseok looks a little shy.

“Taehyung!” Hoseok shoves his friend’s shoulder playfully, “Are you encouraging fornication? You know we’re not married right?”

Taehyung barks out a laugh at that, unbidden. He looks sort of annoyed with himself for it.

“I’m just saying,” He says, “The night is young. Enjoy it.”

You slip your hand into Hoseok’s and tug him towards the front door, “We will. See you later, Tae.”

“It was nice meeting you again Tae-Tae,” Hoseok christens his friend with a brand new nickname, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the days to come!”

Taehyung does smile at Hoseok then, despite himself, and your heart warms at the fact that he seems to be warming up to you. And okay, right now it’s not actually you, but he’ll never know that. And maybe when things go back to normal, and you’re in your own body again, Taehyung will still like you.

(You try not to think too hard on why you want Hoseok’s best friend’s validation that much.)

“See you guys!”

God. This night is really turning into something else.

“I can sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok looks like he might throw up. You’d decided to bring him back to his own home. It didn’t make sense not to take Taehyung up on his suggestion that you take advantage of the empty BTS frat home.

The two of you are meant to be dating, after all, and if you ended up staying in separate rooms for the night it just wouldn’t really make sense. Not with how drunk Hoseok had gotten at the EXO party, anyway.

Of course, you aren’t exactly following through on Taehyung’s insinuation to make things… sexual. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“You’re not going to sleep on the couch in your own home.” You tell him sternly, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok shakes his head sharply. He groans.

“That’s going to look weird when the boys get back. They’ll wonder why we didn’t just sleep together.”

Hoseok’s bed isn’t tiny, but it’s not huge either. There’s room for the two of you, you suppose, but you can’t imagine it’ll be the most spacious of sleeping conditions.

“Fine,” You set your jaw despite the way your heart trips in your chest at what you’re about to suggest, “We’ll just share.”

Hoseok turns to you, eyes wide. He seems to contemplate that for a moment, before shrugging.

“Sure. Let’s share.”

There’s a moment of almost awkward silence, where the two of you just stare at each other.

“We should… Get comfortable?” You smile weakly and Hoseok pulls a face.

“This is fucking weird isn’t it?”

You snort violently, “So so weird.”

His eyes zip over to the closet and you lick your bottom lip, nodding. Are you going to change in front of each other?

Not that seeing your own naked body would freak you out, but you’ve attempted to avoid making eye contact with Hoseok’s bits as best you can the last couple of days. It seems redundant, almost, to ask each other for privacy.

“I’ll go first.” Hoseok announces, zipping over to the closet and wordlessly pulling out an old AC/DC t-shirt.

“Are you going to just…. Do it here?”

Your question comes out as an insecure squeak. He turns to you and sighs heavily.

“I mean, if I go to the bathroom what difference does it make? It’s your body, anyway.”

You nod, speechless. He’s right but the whole thing just feels weird.

Something in the atmosphere shifts, as Hoseok pulls himself out of Sana’s skintight dress. He struggles with the zipper and you bite back a chuckle, moving towards him and stilling his hands.

“Here.” You whisper, “Let me.”

Hoseok meets your eyes as you pull the zip down, slowly exposing the expanse of skin that is your back. He freezes for a moment, eye contact held for what feels like eternity.

And then, he steps out of the dress.

Hoseok opted not to wear a bra. Of course he did. Sana would have told him off for even attempting it.

“You uh….” He’s still staring at you, “You can pull this over my head.” He holds the t-shirt out, “I won’t look.”

The sentiment pulls at your heart.

“Okay,” You breathe, taking the t-shirt and folding it over his head. Hoseok pops his arms out through the holes, and when his head breaks through too, he smiles at you.

Softly. Gently. Warmly.

“There.” He whispers.

Your noses are a hair’s breadth away from one another.

You clear your throat, “There.”

Theres a moment held between the two of you. Like a spell you’ve been caught under. Even though you’re looking into your own face, you can see Hoseok shining through your eyes.

He’s there. He’s there and he’s looking at you and your skin prickles at the way he’s looking at you.

Then, he coughs gently.

The spell is broken and you step back.

“You should change too.” He tells you, hand scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

You nod and pull your own t-shirt off, pushing down the jeans you opted to wear and leaving Hoseok in a pair of briefs. He smirks.

“You just gonna sleep in my underwear?”

There’s something burning behind his words. You bite your lip.

“No. I’ll put some pants on.”

Hoseok laughs almost throatily as you do so, pulling out the first pajama pants you find. They’re Christmas themed.

“Those are my favorites,” He tells you as you slip into them, and you scoff playfully.

“Of course they are.”

There is another moment of silence as the two of you contemplate Hoseok’s bed. You know what comes next. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your rib cage when you gesture towards the sheets.

“Should we….?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok smiles softly, “We should.”

The two of you climb in. It’s a little awkward at first, a mess of limbs and hair. You can’t imagine Hoseok is used to having to share his bed with someone else, much less with himself.

The thought almost makes you laugh.

But finally, you settle down. You roll over and click the bedside lamp off. You’re both swathed in darkness and you stare up at the black ceiling, feeling ache usted all of a sudden.

“Y/N.” Hoseok whispers from beside you.

You roll over carefully, and suddenly your noses are touching. Hoseok doesn’t move away.

“Thanks.” He breathes gently, “For coming to the party. And for not getting mad when I got too drunk.”

You feel yourself smile in the dark.

“That’s okay.”

“You’re…” He takes a moment, seemingly searching for the words, “Just. That’s it, I guess. Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” You answer softly, feeling like you’re still trapped under that spell, from before. “G’night Hoseok.”

He breathes out softly, and the air hits your cheeks.

“Goodnight.”

And when you fall asleep that night, your dreams are suspiciously void of anything but romance. You’re falling in love, obviously, and you seem incapable of stopping yourself.

The first thing you notice when you wake up the next morning is that there are a pair of soft arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You look down, across the expanse of Hoseok’s sturdy chest, all the way to the two little hands clasped together in front of you.

The memories of last night come rushing back to you and you smile to yourself, almost embarrassed at the softness the two of you displayed.

You try not to think about Jin and Taehyung’s words. About how Hoseok has always been into you, and instead focus on the matter at hand.

Because of course Hoseok’s body has reacted quite prominently to the soft female body cuddled up next to him. You’ve got a boner.

Well Hoseok has a boner. For you.

It hurts a little if you think about it too much, but there is undeniable hardness settled between your legs.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You groan, trying to maneuver yourself out of Hoseok’s grasp, and only causing him to further tighten his hold.

“Hoseok,” You try instead, shaking your body a little more violently, “Hoseok…..”

This time you pinch his forearm - a little forcefully but what else are you meant to do?

And that seems to do the trick, as his eyes shoot open and his arms fall away from your waist. He jumps up, almost scared, and you laugh at the look on his face.

“Shit.” He moans, holding a hand to his forehead, “Do you always get hangovers this bad?”

You nod, once, and he grumbles pitifully.

You notice that the shirt that Hoseok was wearing last night has coincidentally ridden up your thigh, exposing the flesh even further, and without warning Hoseok’s body reacts pretty positively to that.

Which is to say his dick gets harder.

You try not to think about the fact that technically you’re turning yourself on, when Hoseok’s eyes graze the problem you’re having downstairs. He gasps.

“Shit.” He looks up at you, “Fuck.”

Your cheeks pink and so do his, and the air is suddenly filled with embarrassment. He tries to apologize.

“Oh fuck I’m so sorry Y/N.” He scoffs, “Little fucker can’t take one day off.”

You laugh at the look on his face, despite yourself, and shrug, “I mean I guess I’m flattered. At least your dick finds me hot.”

The words fly out of your mouth without warning. Hoseok’s eyes darken just a little.

“What?”

“I just mean….” You try again, “It’s a compliment really, right?”

He licks his bottom lip, “Yeah.”

His gaze is heated when it meets yours and something in your stomach drops. Hoseok’s dick hardens even further (if that’s humanly possible) and before you do something crazy - like have sex with yourself - you jump out of bed.

“So I should go and uh… Sort it out. Will a cold shower help?”

Hoseok crinkles his nose, “Amongst other things….”

You cannot possibly take anymore of his teasing, so you hurry yourself off to the bathroom, intending to stand under a shower of cold water until this boner disappears. But, of course, God has other plans.

Because just as you slip out of Hoseok’s bedroom, you find Kim Taehyung standing just outside your door, with an older, distinguished looking man.

Taehyung throws you what looks like an apologetic look over the man’s shoulder, as the mystery man in question turns around slowly. When his eyes meet yours the resemblance is uncanny.

This is Hoseok’s father.

“Hoseok.” His voice is low and gravelly, almost stern, “Good morning.”

Your spine straightens like a rod. Your throat dries up impossibly quickly.

“Uh…. Hi.”

“Taehyung tells me you have company this morning.” His eyes flick down from the top of your head, to the bottom of your feet, “You should invite your girlfriend to have breakfast with us. We have much to discuss.”

The bedroom door swings open again, and your chest tightens when you feel Hoseok freeze beside you.

Hoseok’s father smiles, shark-like, “Ah. You must be the elusive Y/N.”

You feel Hoseok swallow, his whole body rigid and stiff. He tries to smile.

“Uh yeah…. That’s me.”

“I am Hoseok’s father.” His eyes judge every inch of your body, “But you can call me… Dad.”

The words sound anything but friendly.

Oh fuck.

#hoseok x reader #romance #college #enemies to lovers #fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #fanfic #hobi #bts #imagine

218 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 1 year

Text

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Eleven

A/n: Didnt get much sleep, kept thinking about this fic and so I spent most of last night writing and decided to finish it up once I got home this eveninggg, hope it's up to standard x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, food, touch of angst but when is there not with these two?

Masterlist

I was guilt ridden.

I couldn’t help it. The sight of George leaving practically had me wanting to jump out of my seat simply to chase after him. I felt like such a bitch for even entertaining the idea of Sam, with him being sat right there beside me. Especially with us only just having reconnected.

I felt my heart shrivel up more and more the longer he was gone.

Matty’s giant huff retrieved me from my pool of culpability after a while, his eyes drifting between us.

“Guess, I’ll go talk to him then.” He murmured as he pushed up out of the booth. He was gone before anyone else could even think to make an offer. Leaving only Ross and I to remain.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth, unable to do much else as a pair of claws dug their way into my mind. Ross took the moment to slide into George’s empty seat across from me, falling into my direct line of sight.

“You ever been broken up with?” I found myself asking him just as a few more people entered the restaurant. They created a little more noise which drowned out our conversation to anyone sat close by.

Ross pressed his lips together, clasped hands coming to rest on the tabletop between us. “Yeah? Think you’ve even been witness to a few.”

He quirked a smile over at me, probably in hopes to ebb some of the lingering tension, and I really tried to mimic it. If only to placate him.

I let go of the breath I'd been holding on to, looking at him properly now. “Alright, have you ever had a relationship like G and I's?”

Ross seemed to come up short at that and I watched him tilt his head ever so slightly to the left whilst he thought the unexpected question over.

After a moment he shook it, jutting his lip out as he shrugged at me. “Can’t say that I have. Seen it though, like with my mum and dad, Hann and Carls.”

I dipped my chin, gaze falling down to where my fingers were playing with a groove indented in the stained wood table.

“I remember when I first met him, you know. G. He really didn’t like Matty.” I chuckled under my breath, recalling it all so vividly. “And Matt he’d been my best friend for ages, we’d always been proper close. And with something like that, there always comes this unspoken sort of code. Like there's a written rule that you automatically have to hate someone if they didn’t like your best mate. That sort of thing.”

Ross was nodding away at me, listening quietly.

“But George.” I sighed, “I couldn’t help but admire him you know? Matty’s always been this trapped ball of energy, and back then he’d always been looking for some sort of argument to start. It eased those nerves that were always there, I think. But G, he was gentle but so unafraid. He didn’t care that Matty was ‘Matty’, popular and well liked by everyone. He reckoned he was a proper twat and called him on it.”

Both Ross and I laughed then, probably both thinking back on the past. On the early days, before the band had properly formed.

“And when Matty roped him in as a drummer, I let myself become more aware of his presence. And we got close. Especially when Matty realised that girls had tits and would probably let him touch them if he was funny or charmin' enough. George was much less interested in all that. He was quiet, stoic. Mysterious. But I’d been quick in deducing him. I reckon he liked that, someone who didn’t comment on his silence, or call him out for being shy. ‘Cause he wasn’t.

“And looking back, I can see now that G was always more aware of things than what he made it seem. Like with my life at home- how he’d only ever be allowed over when mum was out, or how I always made you lot wait for me at the bottom of the road before school instead of knocking. He was smart like that, perceptive, I ‘spose. And so he spent more and more time hanging around me, a bit like an annoying fly at first. I used to get proper miffed over it. Complain to Matty constantly, but he’d always just laugh me off and claim that George was just an admirer. Harmless. And so I stopped talking to him about it and just let G tag along when and where he pleased.

“Don’t know when, but a little while after that I started to lean on him a bit. More than I should've. Reckon I wasn’t even aware of it though 'til it was too late. 'Til I realised how I felt. I depended on him always being there. And in the time we’d been together- and yes, I'm definitely counting the days when we used to run circles around each other, too scared to say anything- he’d just become my person, you know? He was my truth in a world full of lies.”

I exhaled slowly, the sound as heavy as it felt. Ross was watching me again, I don’t think he’d actually looked away in the time I’d spent talking, and so when he took my hands in his I sent a teary smile his way. Sniffing and unable to help myself.

“When he ended things.” I had to shake my head, still finding it hard to talk about even months later. “I questioned everything. Just kept on asking myself what'd happened, agonising over what I’d done wrong. Why he’d just leave out of nowhere. ‘Cause that’s honestly how it felt. One day we were fine, laughing, kissing, just happy. And then the next… he was telling me he couldn’t do it anymore, that he was headed out to LA to work on the next album and wanted to explore his options.”

I had to pause then, breath hitching. Ross’s grip tightened, as though he could sense all the hurt I was holding back at having to utter the next words I was about to say.

“He claimed he loved me, just that- he wasn’t in love with me. Not anymore.”

The choked sob that slipped from my lips was followed by a self depreciating chuckle and I had to pull away from Ross’s hold to wipe at my eyes.

“God, I’m sorry.” I sniffed to him, trying to smile even though my heart was well and truly broken.

Ross shook his head, leaning in closer to reassure me. “No need to be sorry. Just wish I’d’ve known how much it messed you up.”

His voice was small, soothing. I focused on it, on him. Just breathing. In and out.

“Honestly?" He continued on, "I’d always figured that it’d been mutual. That you’d both sort of wanted to take a bit of a break, see what you’d missed out on having been together so long. But, this… if I’d known, I swear would’ve-”

Ross clenched his teeth, his hands fisted, and I had to laugh, because if I didn't I'd cry. I reached out to lay a hand over his.

“It’s fine, Ross.” I told him sincerely, “Well, it isn’t. But things happen, don’t they? And soon enough, I’ll be fine too.”

—MATTY’S POV—

Stepping out into the evening chill, Matty’s eyes were immediately drawn to the hunched figure that sat on the curb. He drew his cigarette pack from his coat pocket as he made his way on over, noting how George seemed to be toggling with his lighter.

“Thought you came out here for a fag?” Matty commented, making an ‘ah’ sort of sound when he perched down beside the drummer, both legs pulled in towards his chest. He plucked a cigarette from his own carton, tucking it behind his ear, and then took another between his fingers, letting it dangle there from the hand he’d rested on the jut of his knee. Just on the seams of George’s peripheral.

George didn’t say much. Merely flicked his lighter closed. It was an old metal one he’d had since forever, one Matty often saw him fiddling with, whether it was on the bus, before a set, or alone in his bunk. In recent months it’d made more of an appearance.

Matty made a small movement of his wrist and that was all it took before George was taking the offered cigarette from him. The drummer raised it to his lips and lit it with an expert sort of ease. Matty followed and the two of them allowed the driving cars to pass them by.

On an inhale, Matty had finally had enough of the silence. But he supposed that with George he’d sort of just gotten used to it, to them communicating with the odd smile or pained expression. This wasn’t one of those times.

“You gonna say summat then? Or you just gonna keep being miserable?” He pushed, rolling his head over towards his mate. He wasn't about to let the whole thing go. Not without a reason. “‘Cause, if I remember rightly, you’re the one who wanted to tag along. I told you she’d be here, didn’t I? Said it'd be hard, awkward. But you still came-”

He was cut off then.

“Yeah, I know.” George interrupted, though he seemed to be doing an awful lot of that tonight. “Thanks for the reminder, yeah? But if you’re just gonna bitch, can you do it elsewhere?”

Matty made a face. He’d almost forgotten how much of a moody git the bastard could be. “Nah, fine here, thanks. Wanna know what that was all about though, in there.”

George went for another drag, continuing the staring competition he’d started with the off-licence opposite.

“G, come on, man. Why you acting like such an arse? Nothing even happened.”

George scoffed. “Hm, didn’t seem that way.”

Matty fought the urge to clap the twat on the back of his head. “Mate, you ended things with her. Not the other way round. You ain’t got the right to act all pissy about some lad flirting with her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” George spat back, smoke clouding him, hazing in the frigid air around them. “Still fucking hurts though.”

There was a long pause then as Matty took his words in. Confused, he stubbed out his butt on the curb's edge and pivoted towards him.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

George’s eyes closed and he released a drawn out breath. Matty observed him, seeing the tension that lined his jaw and hunched his shoulders, the slight hollow of his face that gave way to the fact that he was chewing on the insides of his cheeks, the way his fingers twitched and a frail ember fluttered towards the ground, dying on the roadside.

Matty realised how much of a prat he'd been. Wondered how he hadn't seen it sooner.

“You still love her.” Matty breathed out into the unanswered silence, his surprise evident.

George turned his face away.

“You still love her, don’t you?” He pressed further, forearms now on his knees to brace himself as he leant in closer. “G. Answer me.”

George’s free hand shot up to rub at his eyes, then at the bridge of his nose. He flicked the remnants of his cigarette away and hastily made his way to his feet. Matty was quick to follow, frowning as the two of them got caught in a standstill. He grabbed hold of George’s arm just before the drummer could turn away from him. Shut him out again, like he’d been doing so effortlessly for the past few months.

“Don’t swan away like nothing’s happened. Answer me, man. Do you or do you not still love her?”

George’s eyes were shining under the streetlamp, his emotions only further illuminated by the oncoming headlights of a string of cars. His face said it all, but Matty had to know, to hear him say it.

“Of course I fucking do.” George laughed pitifully, shaking his head before he glanced up towards the sky. “How could I not?”

—

Matty returned a short while later, alone. I peered over his approaching shoulder for any signs of the moody drummer but was left unfulfilled.

Thankfully Ross was the one to ask the burning question I was dying to know.

“Where’s G?”

An explosive sigh fell from Matty’s lips as he resettled himself in the booth. “Went home. Wanted an early night.”

My heart plummeted. Shattering on the floor by my feet once more, after having been held by the one and only George Daniel again.

“Oh yeah?” Ross hummed conspiratorially, but Matty was saved from his probing the minute dessert arrived, alongside Sam.

“A sundae and tiramisu for the bearded fella. Then for the artsy bloke, one hot chocolate.” Sam charmed as he handed out our order. His eyes fell on me next, his grin warm as he passed me my plate. “And a sweet brownie for the sweetheart in black.”

I smiled and thanked him softly. Blushing lightly at the comment, which was new for me.

After I’d plopped the plate down, I caught sight of Matty’s slight scowl when his flicking of the sugar sachets drew my attention. Ross thanked Sam profusely for the sweet treats and the man merely chuckled at him in amusement.

“Cheers. Can we get the bill now?” Matty said offhandedly, not even sparing Sam the courtesy of a glance and only further drowning the mood by acting all pissy.

“Um," Sam mumbled out, hesitant, but then he carried on like nothing was a bother. "No worries, mate. I’ll send it on over now.” He looked at me once more before he backed away.

“What’s with you?” I asked Matty quietly, Ross lost to his tray of desserts.

“Just tired.” Was all he said, shrugging the question off, “You alright?”

Matty seemed to perk up a little then, swivelling in his chair to better see me.

I didn’t really know how to answer him so instead I toyed with one of the serviettes.

“Is there any real way to answer that?” I laughed defeatedly, “I mean, I don’t know, Matty. Why'd you even bring him with you in the first place?”

“He’s our mate.” Matty quipped in a strange defensive tone, one I reeled back from slightly, and he must’ve noticed because he slumped away too, opting to swirl the marshmallow’s floating in his drink around. “Just, he’s having a hard time of it too.”

I scoffed, turning away.

“No really.” Matty was quick to iterate to me, I shrugged off the hand that came to rest on my shoulder.

“What’s he got to feel crap about? I bet he’s been living it up large out in LA, fucking models, dating other musicians. Free from the likes of me.”

Matty frowned but it was Ross who jerked a long spoon over at me. I raised a brow.

“You keep mentioning LA, but… G’s not been to LA once since the split. Tour’s been in Europe and before that, he’d been kipping on my sofa.”

I blinked. Suddenly baffled.

“What?”

Ross just nodded though, seemingly unaware of my frail state. “Yeah, was gonna ask earlier but well, you know. Then you said it again and I had to ask.”

“Hang on, wait a sec. What has he been doing the last six months then if he's not been in LA?”

I pitted the question towards the both of them. They were his bandmates, they were all extremely close with one another in the very weirdest but best sort of way. If anyone knew what George had been up to, it’d be them.

“Well?”

Matty and Ross appeared to share a look between them but before I could intercept it, Matty answered me.

“I think this is a conversation best left for him, love.”

My mouth worked to say a word or two, to argue, but I could only stare at him.

My entire world had been thrown off balance. Six months had been and gone, and the entire time George had been living just around the corner. LA had been a lie, moving on had been a lie, I couldn’t fathom it. He’d actually lied to me. The only person I’d ever counted on to tell me the truth without fail. And he’d lied, right to my face.

I sat back in the booth. Head reeling.

I had to ask myself, what else had he been lying about?

—

I don’t know how or why. But for some reason or other, I’d ended up outside a house I didn’t recognise.

It was just on the outskirts of Hampstead, a two-storey town house with a small gated front garden and a white stoop. I blinked up at it, unsure on whether the directions Ross had given me were even right. But no, here I was stood outside number 12. And I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.

Before I could lose my nerve I quickly slipped past the iron wrought gate and up the steps. Berating myself all the while, but unable to stop my feet.

One of the upstairs lights were on, so I could only assume that someone had to be home, which only fuelled my nerves. But I swallowed thickly and let my fingertips reach out to grasp the knocker, letting it ring out twice.

I had to take a step back. Actually, I’d almost jumped back in my haste to do so, and was quick to save myself from falling down the flight I’d just climbed, breathing heavily at the sudden scare.

I knew my anxiety was palpable, so much so I was actually starting to feel hot even in the cold, but I chose to wrap my arms further around myself anyway to keep the wind from nipping at my skin and to hopefully ground myself some more.

Nervous was the farthest thing from how I felt, as a matter of fact I don’t think anyone had yet to come up with an adjective to describe the torment I was internally facing. And as I waited, it only seemed to grow. Festering beneath the surface.

I startled slightly at the sound of the door’s hinges and my eyes snapped up to meet his in the dim light. Thankfully, George only looked surprised to see me, but I wasn’t too sure how long that would last.

He stepped a tad out to cast a glance down at the rest of the street before his gaze zeroed in on me again. “How're you even here?”

“Ross.” I shrugged, toeing the tiles outside his front door in my highly strung state.

George huffed out a small, very subtle chuckle. I watched him for a moment, seeing how he’d propped himself up in the doorway, eyes moving as he thought things over for a second.

I swallowed again and cleared my throat, bringing him back to the present. Seeing as I was still stuck outside and it was still freezing. “Um, can I come in then?”

He seemed to remember himself, blinking before he hurried to wave me inside. “Yeah, yeah ‘course.”

I dipped my head at him and gave him a tiny brief smile as I stepped over the threshold. Somewhat grateful for the warmth the hallway gave me when he shut the door behind us.

I felt rather out of place in that next moment. As though I was overstepping, trespassing into the life he’d built without me. Still, I let my eyes wander, taking in the narrow hallway.

A tall coat cupboard was kept opposite, and he had a pretty trinket bowl on top of the radiator cover he seemed to be using as an entrance side-table. A couple pairs of shoes littered the wooden floors just before the staircase and I could just make out the beginnings of a kitchen table at the end of the walkway even in the dark.

George spoke first, “You can hang your coat up if you want.”

Apparently, he was just as bad at hiding how he felt about all this too. Nervous and unsure as he nodded over towards the cupboard. I followed his suggestion and slipped my jacket off, leaving me in the thin long-sleeved tee I’d thrown on that morning. I silently prayed that it had no noticeable stains or anything, unable to remember on whether or not I’d picked it up out of the clean pile of washing. I tugged at my sleeve.

“Um, you just caught me rolling.” George then mentioned, gesturing upwards. “You wanna follow me up?”

I hurried to nod at the question and kicked off my boots, then up we went, the stairs creaking beneath our shared weight.

The house was mostly empty. I noticed that only a sparse number of pictures littered the place, all of them simply standing instead of mounted to the walls. I saw myself in one or two, but those were just of the five of us, or other group photos. None of just him and I. There were also no posters in sight. Though George had a few ornaments to offer his guests, most of which I recognised, but even then they were placed wherever; a giraffe wearing sunglasses waited at the top of the stairs and a couple of awards took up space on the landing’s shelf as we made our way past.

There were four doors up here, two of which were closed, one that revealed a spacious bathroom, and the last that George led me into. I supposed to most it would’ve been used as another bedroom or an office of sorts, but George had turned it into a studio.

The walls had been padded with soundproof squares and it housed a large table that had been crammed with a deck as well as other essentials such as a mixing board and a dozen other things I couldn’t begin to name.

A sofa took up the far wall, softened by a bundle of blankets and pillows that reminded me of mornings when I’d wake up to find George fast asleep on the settee after he’d been up producing all night.

His trusty laptop was on the end of it, alongside a pair of headphones, newer than the last one’s I’d seen him with. He had a fridge up here too and I didn’t even need to open it to know what it was stocked with.

In the centre of the room though, there was a square coffee table. It appeared sort of antique, mid-century maybe what with the tiled top and dark wood. It was pretty, very George. It was also very much like George to be using it to roll his joints. I withheld a snort.

“Um, you can just sit anywhere.” The man who plagued my thoughts said then, picking up an empty cider can and tossing it into the bin before he moved to fix the sofa up for me.

So that’s where I ended up, on the end just by the window whilst George shuffled his things around so that he could roll and talk to me at the same time. He ended up tossing a cushion onto the rug covered floor beside the coffee table a foot away from my socked feet. I pulled them up under me to give him more space.

��You left.” I said to fill the quiet which had enveloped us, but my words sounded loaded even to my own ears. So I hurried to explain, “I just, I mean- you left without saying goodbye is all.”

George’s eyes were on his papers and the small bag he held but I knew that his attention was on me. He licked at his lower lip, then nodded once. “Was tired, long day and that.”

I hummed, fiddling with the cushion I’d since pulled into my lap. “Matty mentioned that you wanted an early night. Wasn’t sure if I’d be waking you to be honest.”

I was laying out a trap and we both knew it.

“You know how I get. Got in and sleep felt like the last thing on my mind.” George shrugged, crumbling away now as he lined the paper.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not that he was aware of it. “So it wasn’t ‘cause of the bad mood you were in?”

He pursed his lips, he didn’t like being called out so blatantly. Even so he still wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Didn’t think you’d even notice to be honest.”

I knew then that he was talking about the waiter and had to bite back the sarky response that poisoned the tip of my tongue.

“Pretty hard no to.” I murmured instead, glancing down towards the cushion to avoid seeing him look so unbothered by me.

I took the second to calm myself, lessening the hurricane my mind often span itself into before I took a deep breath and chanced a look back up at him. His joint had since been rolled and I berated myself for having missed it, it was one of my favourite pastimes, watching him roll.

George though, he held it in his lap now, waiting to be lit whilst he set his eyes on me.

My heart started to pound and I was honestly left feeling a tad worried for it, seeing as it’d really been through the wringer these last few days. But his eyes were on me and how could it not react to that?

“What about that other lad?”

I raised my eyebrows over at him, “What, Sam?”

He turned away, nose wrinkling somewhat as he reached across the table for his lighter. It was the metal one I’d gifted him more than a decade ago now. One that had formally belonged to my dad. A massive part of me wanted to reach out for it, to touch and make sure it was the very same. But I didn’t dare. I was just surprised to note that he’d kept it this long, let alone after the split.

I hadn’t thought about it in forever.

I swallowed past the many feelings the sight of the lighter had roused, and formed another reply for him. One that might get him to answer me.

“He was just that, George. Another lad.” I looked down at him, watched as he sparked the lighter to start a flame and brought it to his lips.

“Seemed pretty keen.”

I wanted to groan at his indifferent responses. Had he always been this difficult? This dense?

“Yeah well, you seem pretty jealous for someone who supposedly doesn't care.” I sniped back, unable to help that one.

George’s jaw tightened but he inhaled and it loosened a fraction as a breath of smoke pooled from his mouth. He didn’t offer me a reply.

I huffed. Then moved from my seated position, reaching out across the room to steal the joint from between his lips. It was his next movement that stopped me short, he took hold of my wrist and dragged me closer. My eyes widened and I wondered if he was even aware of the proximity he’d created.

“What’s this?” His brow had fallen into a deep furrow now as he looked my injured finger over, resting the lit joint in a nearby ashtray just as I slowly brought myself down to my knees.

I was a little startled by the change in pace, to be truthful. And so I didn’t have many words to give him. I seemed to snap out of it though when his dark eyes darted up to meet mine. He raised a brow.

“Work.” I told him quietly, “Pair of scissors, it was an accident.”

“Deep?” George questioned me, I shrugged. “You take care of it?” I nodded at him. “Properly?”

I forced out a depleted chuckle, “Yes. Delia did. Cleaned it up nice and proper for me. Reckoned it didn’t even need stitches.”

He was already picking at the plaster before he even asked, “Can I take a look?”

I attempted to pull my hand away, but he just held on tighter and deadened his expression, not entirely pleased. How had we gone from walking on eggshells around each other to this?

“Why? I told you it’s fine!” I reasoned with him, but he merely blinked back at me. I sighed. “Alright, but only if you have something to cover it back up with. Blood makes me-”

“Squirmy.” George finished for me and I shivered at the thought. He shook his head but I was sure I’d seen the tiniest of smirks. “And I do. A box of plasters from where I sliced up my hand the other week.”

He released my hand just as my face fell into a pensive frown and went to stand.

“How’d you slice your hand?” I asked him, raising my voice so that he could hear me better as he puttered out of the room and towards the bathroom I’d seen.

“Cooking!” George called back and my frown only deepened.

“Cooking?” I murmured to myself, baffled or bewildered I wasn’t sure. In all the time I’d known George not once had I been witness to him in the kitchen. He could hardly even brew a semi-decent tea!

I listened to him moving things around in his search for the plasters, but he was back before I knew it. Only, he seemed to pause for a split second at the sight of me sat near the coffee table, as though he’d forgotten where he’d left me.

“Found ‘em?”

My question set him back in motion and he gave a jerky nod, though he was more warier of his movements when he retook his previous position on the cushion. He motioned for me to hold out my hand and I did so, lips pursing as he peeled away the previous tape.

“Ooh, that’s a pretty sight.” George hissed quietly through his teeth, looking the wound over.

I only stretched to glance at it briefly when he said that, having been rather content with turning the other cheek whilst he got a proper look at it. It was grim to say the least. The middle still clotted with dry blood, its edges white and pale.

“Oh! Fuck.” I grimaced at the sight, darting my eyes away quick as I could. “Is it really that bad?”

George’s light titter danced around the room, I felt his thumb brush against the skin near the cut and had to withhold another shiver. “It’s a bit deep but you were right about not needing any stitches. Though, if you’d’ve gone to A&E they’d’ve probably glued it shut.”

“So it'll scar?” I found myself asking and George’s hesitant pause gave me my answer. “It’s fine," I said, "not as though I’ve not got any others.”

The sound of the box drew my attention back over to him, though I was mindful to keep my eyes from looking at my finger again. He was fiddling with the box now, trying to release a plaster with his free hand instead of just making things easier for himself and simply letting go of my hand to grab at it. I didn’t comment on it though, letting him do as he pleased whilst I angled myself closer to reach for his smouldering joint.

His gaze found mine just as I brought it to my lips, inhaling slowly. I gave him an impish grin when I caught him, “Waste not want not, right? Besides it’ll help keep my mind off of the pain.”

George snorted, still watching me thought he’d gotten a plaster free. “What pain? You big baby.”

I narrowed my eyes and took another drag, holding it out towards him once he’d ripped the plaster from its seal by using his teeth. He appeared grateful for it.

“What’s sanitary about that?” I asked.

He merely chuckled in retort, eyes honed in on my cut now. His hold on my hand was firm but careful, and he was so very gentle with me, especially when he dragged his thumb across the back of the plaster to adhere it.

I put the joint back in the ashtray then, scared I’d do something stupid like drop it on George’s nice rug or choke on my next inhale. Even more so when my breathing stuttered the moment he brought his lips to my hand to kiss its palm.

“Alright, you're good to go.” George told me quietly, glancing up at me then through dark lashes. I struggled to regulate my heartbeat. Christ, the poor thing.

I swallowed instead, pulling my hand away when he dropped his stare and started to round up the plaster’s scraps.

Coughing faintly into the back of my wrist, I went to move back to where I’d been sat previously, the sofa looking much larger now that I knew I’d be sitting on it alone again.

“Erm, forgot to ask if you wanted anything. A drink maybe?” George mentioned, breaking the silence.

I looked about the space, not sure why but perhaps simply for something to do. “Yeah, uh sure. What’ve you got?”

George’s mouth quirked to one side and I watched as he moved over towards the fridge to pull a can out of its bottom drawer. I shook my head at the familiar sight of a Diet Coke in his hand.

“Ta.” I chuckled, taking it from him when he extended an arm out towards me.

“Always have ‘em in there. Not sure why, no one really drinks them. Force of habit maybe.”

He shrugged it off like it was nothing but I couldn’t do the same, for some reason he still bought my favourite drink to fill his fridge with.

It made me wonder what else he might still pick up whilst shopping, if he ever thought of us arguing over the types of milk when he walked through the dairy aisle. Or if he stopped by the strawberries on the way in, debating over whether or not to pick them up seeing as I was the only one who ever seemed to eat them. Though, he claimed they were his favourite.

I realised that I’d been looking at the can for far too long, the chill from the fridge causing it to perspire and produce water droplets which clung to my hand.

“You still with me, Birdie?” George mocked, stubbing out whatever remained of his joint, though I did note the faint waft of smoke that now lingered around him.

“Yeah.” I answered, shaking away my thoughts and went to return to the sofa. Only, I couldn’t bring myself to.

George’s face changed when I dropped back to the floor, though it was only for a moment, and then he was padding over to join me, tossing another cushion my way. It was a silent gesture but one that had me smiling.

“So, why’re you here really?”

I hadn’t expected him to be so blunt about it, but he’d reclaimed his seat, arms wrapped around the knee he’d since pulled into his chest, and was surveying my reaction.

I shrugged. “Truth?”

The look on his face was well worth the sting of the icy knife that pierced its way through my chest from using that word.

Liar. My heart wanted to scream. My mouth struggling not to accuse him of all the things I’d learnt tonight.

“Truth.” George whispered back to me.

“I want to know what really happened.”

George’s brow pinched, he inclined his head. “What do you mean? When what happened?”

My eyes met his straight on. There was no worming our way out of this.

“The night you finished with me. I want to know what really happened.”

Part twelve>

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pensat-i-fet · 2 years

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A little accident (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**Anon request. I hope this is similar to what you imagined and that everyone else likes it too ❤️**

Word count: 2362

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Thank you for driving me to training”, tells me Rúben when we park at the training centre.

“It’s ok. You sure someone can drive you back home later? I don’t mind picking you up”.

“Yes. Bernardo will drive me home and my car will be fixed tomorrow. Don’t worry”.

“Perfect”, I say, giving him a goodbye kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you then. I can use my time at your place to work without noisy neighbours bothering me. And I could cook dinner for us, maybe?”

“If you want to”, he says, already out of the car and getting his bag. “But we can order something”.

“I’m happy cooking today”, I love cooking for people. “Have a good training”.

He’s already by my door so he can steal another kiss before leaving.

“Thank you. See you later!”

When I’m back at Rúben’s, I put the kettle on before I start to get everything ready for work. I haven’t been able to do much lately due to my neighbours doing renovations in their apartment at the worst times, so I’m looking forward to a productive afternoon.

In between work sessions, I start googling recipes for dinner. What should I cook?

Two hours, a coffee and two cups of tea later, I’m done with everything I needed to do so far for the project I’m working on. So I decide to check we got all the ingredients I need for the pie I’m planning on cooking for dinner. Rúben should be back in an hour, so I’ll be taking the food out of the oven by the time he’s back. Perfect.

Moving around Rúben’s place isn’t always the easiest. He’s no giant, so his things are at normal height for most people…but not for someone as short as me. He loves joking about our height difference but always makes sure the things I need are not on the highest shelves. However, he can’t do that when he doesn’t know what I’ll be needing, like right now.

Walking around the kitchen carrying a chair so I can reach some of the ingredients I need makes me feel so dumb. Thankfully, no one is here to see it. But it gets the work done.

Being a bit of an organisation freak, I start to get all the bowls out to put the chopped veggies in them, in the order I’ll cook them. Once the carrots are done, everything is set. I only need to get the spices and I’ll be able to start cooking.

Oh, and I need a baking dish to put everything on. So I check the oven to see if the one that’s usually there can be used but…there’s nothing inside. How odd.

The drawers under the oven are full of stuff, but no baking dishes. Where has this man put them now?

After opening every drawer and cabinet door, I finally spot the baking dishes. On the top shelf. Of course. That’d be my luck. I guess it’s time to get the chair again. Being short isn’t that fun sometimes.

Checking the clock, I see I need to hurry up if I want to have the food ready for when Rúben is back. Even if he wouldn’t mind waiting a little bit, I know he’ll be starving after training.

But the damn chair isn’t enough for me to reach the shelf. Does he have a ladder? No, we joked about it sometimes and he doesn’t have one.

I realise the only answer is going on the counter and immediately hear my mum’s voice telling me I can’t do that because it’s gross and I’ll slip and fall. Well, I can clean the area when I’m down. And I won’t fall. I’m tiny but, thankfully, not clumsy. And I need that bloody dish.

I soon find out it’s easier said than done and that the area where I’ll be standing is quite small, which reduces my movements a lot. But here I am, finally face to face with the dishes. Which one is the right size?

I get two out and hold them in front of me to try and compare sizes when I lose my balance and realise I have no empty hands to hold onto anything. So my survival instinct kicks in and I drop one of the dishes to try and hold onto the cabinet’s door. But I don’t manage to grab it, grabbing a little figure instead and taking it down with me.

I fear the noise would have been heard throughout the entire building. It was almost deafening. But once it’s all silent again, I finally open my eyes to see the damage made.

Both dishes are on the floor, but not broken. I’ll write a letter to the brand to congratulate them. Their unbreakable promise wasn't just smart advertising.

But something is broken. The little figure I tried to hold onto so I wouldn’t fall. And when I see what it is, I want to cry. My butt also hurts from falling and I’ll probably have a sore back tomorrow but all I can see is the figure.

When I first visited Rúben’s apartment, he showed it to me, telling me how it had belonged to his grandma and how she gave it to his mum when she lived abroad. Now it was Rúben’s turn to have it since he was living away from home. The figure itself wasn’t anything too special. Rúben even joked about keeping it in the cabinet because of how ugly it was. But it had so much sentimental value and now I broke it. God, he’s going to hate me.

My first stupid instinct is to get the pieces and try to do what? Superglue them together? I don’t even know if he has superglue at home. But I frantically get them so I can bring them to the counter and try and do something.

While I do it, I hear the front door opening, which makes me panic and cut myself with one of the sharp pieces. I’m so panicked I don’t even feel the pain and just get a piece of kitchen cloth to wrap around my hand. That’ll do, it was a superficial cut.

“Hi…what happened?”, asks Rúben when he gets to the kitchen and finds me in my current state.

“Sorry”, I say, starting to feel the tears in my eyes.

“Why are you apologizing? What happened?”

He keeps walking towards me while assessing the situation in the kitchen. The food is on the counter, ready to be cooked. The two baking dishes are still on the floor and I’m crying holding my bandaged hand and one of the pieces from the broken figure. I’m surprised he hasn’t run away yet.

“I fell and I broke…your figure…but I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…I just couldn’t reach…”, the sobs make it impossible for me to speak correctly.

“Just calm down”, he says, but I can see him getting impatient. “Are you bleeding?”

He’s now holding my hand and trying to get the cloth off to see the cut but I take it away.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry I broke your figure. I just tried to hold…”.

“Stop talking about the stupid figure”, he says, raising his voice. “Let me see your hand”.

“I’m fine”.

“You’re not. The cloth is soaked with blood”.

Is it? Yes, when I look at my hand, I can see it is. Maybe the cut is not as superficial as I thought.

“I’ll clean it in a bit and put on a plaster. But first, we need to fix this. I have all the pieces and if you’ve got some glue, we can maybe make it decent”.

“If you don’t stop talking about that figure, I swear I’ll throw the pieces out of the window”.

I’ve seen him angry at the matches but that anger was never directed towards me and I don’t know how to react. But of course, he’s right about being angry at me. I come to his apartment and make all this mess.

“I’m so sorry, Rúben. This is honestly so embarrassing. I’ll clean everything and…”.

But he’s no longer listening. He goes to get my bag and takes my keys out of it.

“What are you doing?”

“We are leaving”.

He’s kicking me out of the house?

“Where?”

“To the hospital. I’m going to clean that cut the best I can and bandage it properly, not with a plaster”, he says, trying not to roll his eyes. “And then we’ll go to the hospital. You might need stitches. And if you’ve fallen, you might be hurt somewhere else”.

“I feel fine”.

But the look he gives me says the conversation is over and we’re doing as he says.

Ten minutes later, we are getting in my car since Rúben’s is still being fixed. And his annoyance is only getting worse.

“How can anyone fit here?”, he complains, moving the seat from my normal position to one where his legs can fit comfortably.

“Sorry”.

“Stop apologizing”.

The drive is silent and I just try not to cry again, but I start feeling the pain from the fall in my body now that the adrenaline is gone and it’s not pretty.

“Are you alright?”, asks Rúben when he notices me moving, trying to find a comfortable position.

“My back hurts a bit”.

He sighs and keeps his eyes on the road. “We’ll be there soon”.

And he was right. Only a couple of minutes later, we are at the hospital and it doesn’t seem to be super busy at A&E. Finally some luck.

“I think she might need stitches”, says Rúben to the nurse who’s taking notes of all my injuries.

“Let me see, sweetie”, and I do, finally looking at the cut myself and having to look away immediately. “Yes, stitches for sure. Come with me, we need to disinfect it well before the doctor can do some sawing. He’s great at it. I’m always trying to get him to fix my clothes”.

I try to smile at her attempt at a joke but can barely do it. Rúben and I still don’t talk to each other and this feeling of guilt is killing me. But he still stays with me the whole time, which makes me feel a bit better.

The doctor who fixes my cut also checks my back, after telling him how I fell and injured myself and I can hear Rúben swearing under his breath when I take my shirt off.

“What?”, I ask, worried.

“It’s a nasty bruise”, answers the doctor. “But just a bruise. I’ll give you some medicine for the pain and you’ll be fine in a couple of days”.

By the time we are back at the car, Rúben still hasn’t talked to me. He was happy to speak with the doctors and nurses but had no words for me. And now it’s starting to piss me off. It’s not as if I did this on purpose.

Out of habit, I go to open the door with my right hand, only to realise I can’t move it because of the bandage and the stitches. So I try with my left hand, but can’t open the door because Rúben stops me from doing it.

I turn to look at him but before I have time to say anything, he brings my body to his and hugs me tightly. Thank God I didn't hurt my ribs when I fell.

“Rúben…thank you for looking after me”.

“Don’t you even injure yourself again, you hear me?”

“Ok?”

“Do you know how scared I was when I saw you in the kitchen, crying and bloodied? I almost had a heart attack”, he tells me, holding my face with his hands.

“I thought you were angry at me”.

“Why would I be angry?”

“You yelled at me. You never yell at me”, I say, trying to make sense of the last hour. I just wanted to make some Shepherd’s pie.

“I was scared and didn’t know what to do and it frustrated me”, he says, hugging me again. “And then you kept talking about that figure you broke, when I was worried about you breaking a bone or something and…I don’t know, I lost it, I guess”.

I enjoy being in this embrace for a little longer before moving back to look at him.

“I just wanted to cook dinner but the dishes were too high up”.

“Instead of making the house child-proof, I’ll have to make it midget-proof”, he says, making me slap his arm…with my injured hand.

“I’m an idiot”, I say, putting my head in his chest and closing my eyes.

“Did that hurt?”

“Nah, but I’ll have to get used to being left-handed for a couple of days”.

“It could have been worse. That bruise you have on your back scared me even more than the blood, you know?”

“Is it really that bad?”

“I’ll show you when we are home. Let’s go. I’ll cook us some dinner”.

“Try not to break the entire kitchen. You’re so clumsy sometimes”, I joke, making us both laugh for the first time in a long while.

We finally make it back to his apartment and I get to see my lovely bruise, which does look pretty terrifying. And I also get to change into clothes that don't have any blood on them.

When I go back to the kitchen, I see all the mess I made has been cleaned by Rúben, who is making some quick dinner for the both of us.

“Are you sure you’re not angry at me for breaking that figure?”

“No. It was really ugly anyways”.

“But it was a family tradition”.

“It wasn’t when it was bought. We can buy another one and turn it into one. Family heirlooms or traditions aren’t made that way, we give them that meaning. I can buy more or make more”, he says, making me feel a bit better. “But I can’t make more of you if you fall again and break your neck”.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to go up a counter ever again”.

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