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dreamerstreamer · 4 years

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Toxic Taste

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] It's a perfect day for a picnic with your friends. Well, it seems like one until you suddenly fall very ill.

Warnings: very minor cursing

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: this was requested by @amintyworld! everyone just loves protective dream, don’t they? i had fun exploring this concept, and i hope you enjoy!

You hummed, fixing your hair in the mirror before giving yourself one last once over, nodding to yourself. Looks good. Just then, you heard the door swing open behind you, creaking with a quiet groan. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, are you ready to go?”

Whirling around, your hand quickly grabbed the woven basket on the table beside you as you flashed Clay a bright grin, bounding over to his side with a skip in your step. “I am, now.”

Without having to say another word, he lifted his arm toward you, and you looped yours through his, your fingers tightening around the basket handle. The two of you stepped outside together, locking the door behind you before making your way down the oak path. Above you, only a few clouds dotted the cerulean blue sky, drifting along the gentle spring breeze.

It really was a perfect day for a picnic.

Turning, you cast a curious glance over at Clay. “Are you excited to see what everyone brought?”

He bobbed his head, his lips quirking up into a wicked grin. “Yeah—I can’t wait to make fun of whatever George made.”

You frowned, shooting him an unimpressed look. “George is a good chef in his own right,” you chided.

His smile widened, reaching over to gently tap your nose. “Yeah, but you’re the best.” He patted your basket cover, his viridian gaze swirling with mirth. “They’re gonna love your cookies.”

You rolled your eyes at him, snorting, but he didn’t miss the way your lips twitched. “You just say that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He hummed. “Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

You raised your brows at him. “Oh? So you admit that you’re biased?”

Leaning over, he brushed his lips against yours in a peck, pulling back with a dazzling grin. “Of course,” he murmured in that soft tone that made your cheeks grow hot, “without a doubt.”

You swallowed, trying to calm your frantically beating heart. “You’re so cheesy,” you said, adopting a passive tone, “no more dilly-dallying, now. We have a picnic to get to.”

He sent you a crooked smile. “Okay, okay.” His eyes flashed. “I’ll race you.”

“Huh, wh—?”

Before you could even process what was happening, he had suddenly bolted, his arm leaving yours. Almost immediately, your body yearned for the warmth of his pressed against yours, and you found yourself stumbling after him.

“Wait, Clay!” you called after him, your basket bouncing beside you as you watched him crest over the grassy hill. “That’s not fair! Get back here!”

He only turned to shoot you a goofy grin, laughter bubbling on his lips as he disappeared from view, his hoodie fading to nothing more than a tiny speck of green among the swaying blades of grass. You couldn’t stop the laughter from spilling from your lips, bursting from your chest like fireworks.

“You are so dead when I catch up to you!”

He called back over the horizon. “If you ever!”

Your grin only grew wider.

Oh, he was so dead.

“Your bread sucks.”

You gasped, lightly smacking Clay’s chest. “Clay!” Whipping around, you sent George an earnest grin. “George, I think your bread is wonderful.”

Beside you, Tommy made a face, setting his slice down on his plate with a disgusted glance. “Nah, I agree with Big D. This bread is pretty shit.”

Now, it was Wilbur’s turn to gasp. “Tommy!”

Tommy’s brows knit together as he scowled. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

George let out a long groan, his glasses threatening to slide off the crown of his head as he hung his face in his hands. “I am never baking, again.”

In an instant, Niki was on her feet, flailing her arms. “No, no, no! Don’t say that—baking can be a lot of fun!” She paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “I can teach you a new sourdough recipe, if you’d like!”

George lifted his head, blinking at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “You would?”

She nodded, a bright smile tugging at her lips. “Of course!”

Sapnap snorted, taking another bite of steak. “I can’t believe you have to learn from someone else how to make good bread.”

George groaned again, glowering at his supposed best friend. “Why is everyone ganging up on me, today?”

Clay was quick to butt in. “Haven’t you heard? It’s National Be Mean to George Day.”

Tubbo blinked, confusion clouding his features. “That’s not a real holi—” He paused, then gasped. “Oh, wait.” He grinned. “Never mind.”

George’s glare only intensified, and he sighed. “Niki, forget it.”

While Niki practically shriveled into a puddle, Wilbur spoke up, offering him a reassuring smile. “Well, I think your bread is delicious, George. Genuinely.”

George flashed him a thankful grin, adjusting the glasses on his head. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

Letting out another laugh, you leaned back against Clay’s side, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as you snuggled against him. Your friends were always up to weird antics, and while you didn’t necessarily agree with their actions, you were willing to indulge in them, if only to see what would happen next. In front of you, you gingerly picked up the half-eaten fish skewer from your plate, lifting it to your lips as you took another bite. It was sweet, and vaguely tasted like saltwater, but you liked it. It was unique, in its own weird way.

You watched as Clay reached across the patterned blanket for the plate of cookies you had brought, gingerly picking one up. Glancing up at him, you opened your mouth. “Do you actually think George’s bread is bad?” you asked softly. “Or are you just trying to rile him up?”

He paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth, then shrugged, biting in. “It’s a bit of both. It isn’t half-bad, I guess.” He shot you a cheeky wink. “Yours is still better, though.”

You groaned, feeling your face grow warm. “Stop that.”

He tilted his head at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he chewed. “Stop what?” he said, leaning in close to you. “Being honest?”

You did your best to send him a glare, but you knew it was half-hearted at best. “Yes.”

His grin widened, his eyes glimmering with affectionate arrogance. “Never.”

As his eyes locked onto yours, you felt your glare melt away. With a small hum, he dipped his head to yours, pressing his mouth to yours with a smile. His tongue lapped at your lips, and you grinned back. He tasted like chocolate chips and sunshine. You pulled back with a quiet gasp, your cheeks burned with heat as his emerald eyes bore into yours, crinkling at the corners.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered for you and you alone.

Your heart swelled. “I love you, too.”

He stared at you for a moment longer, then pressed his forehead against yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Also,” he added, “you taste like fish.”

You sent him a horrified look before smacking his arm again, your heart flipping as he wheezed at your reaction. “S-Shut up!”

He only wheezed harder in response, and despite your embarrassment, you felt a smile tugging on your lips. That was the thing about Clay that got you every time—as much as he would tease you and make your heart go wild in your chest, you knew he meant every single thing he told you. He was just so sincere like that, and it made you want to sink straight into him.

God, you were so, so in love.

Just then, a howl pulled you away from your attack on Clay. You turned to see Quackity, his mouth agape as he pointed at Niki, a bewildered look plastered to her face. “Niki!” he screamed. “You brought cake?”

She blinked, stunned for only a moment before she smiled, nodding. “Yeah! It’s homemade and has vanilla frosting.”

Quackity immediately sank down to one knee, one hand outstretched toward her as he said dramatically, “Marry me.”

Niki’s smile didn’t falter for even a second. “No thanks.”

Quackity’s arm dropped, and he let out a whine. “Damn, you didn’t have to say it so quickly.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat down with a pout. “You could have at least pretended to think about it.”

You all burst into laughter, giggling as Niki simply set her cake down on the blanket next to George’s bread. Wilbur had brought three watermelons—how he carted them over by himself, you had no idea—while Tommy brought pork chops. Tubbo had also caught fish for the occasion while Sapnap packed steak. Meanwhile, Quackity had carried a sack of apples over to the picnic, but you had a feeling he may or may not have stolen them, since he didn’t exactly own an apple orchard of his own.

You opened your mouth to ask for a slice of Niki’s cake when you suddenly froze, a bolt of what felt like lightning tingling up your spine. Your head spun, and you could have sworn your vision darkened at the edges. An uneasy pit grew in your stomach, and you frowned. Why do I feel so... strange?

Pushing yourself forward slightly, you tried to sit up straight, only to feel your arms wobble before you crashed back into Clay’s side once more. In a flash, his arms were around you, holding you steady as his green eyes peered down at yours.

“Hey,” he said, his tone growing serious, “are you okay?” He wrinkled his brow. “You look a little off.”

You blinked, feeling your stomach churn with uneasiness. “I’m, um—I feel kind of sick.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Clay was on his feet, stretching his arm out to you. “Here, let me help you up.”

You slipped your hand into his, doing your best to hang on tight as he tugged you upward. You expected to simply stand on your own two feet just as you would in any other situation, but the moment you were up, you suddenly felt your knees buckle beneath you, your legs going numb. You gasped as your feet went flying out under you, your fingers digging onto Clay’s palm.

“Clay—!”

With a whirl, his arms held you to his chest, your sides shaking. A rush of anxiety rolled through you, and you looked down, desperately trying to move your foot, only to find that you couldn’t. It remained as still as a rock, and you wanted to cry.

“[Y/N],” Clay breathed, his hand on your face as he supported your weight with his other arm, “what’s wrong?” His eyes desperately searched yours for any clue as to what was happening, but all you could manage was a broken, choked whisper.

“Clay, I—” You swallowed, your hands trembling around his arm while something stung at the back of your eyes. “I can’t move my legs.”

He froze, his voice dropping to a deadly low whisper. “You what?”

You shook your head, hanging onto him for dear life. The spinning had gotten worse now, and you felt sicker and sicker by the second. “I-I don’t know, I don’t feel good and something’s wrong and—Clay,” you breathed, tears welling up in your eyes, “I’m scared.” Your heart pounded in your chest, but for all the wrong reasons. “Am I going to die?”

His gaze hardened, filling with determination as his hold around you tightened. “No,” he said without even an inkling of doubt, “you’re not.”

Before you could react, he suddenly swung one arm beneath your numb legs, easily hoisting you up so that you were carefully pressed against his chest. You gasped as your friends’ eyes landed on you, their faces full of worry as your head lolled against Clay’s shoulder.

“Everyone,” he said, his voice booming across the field, “there’s something wrong with the food.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t eat it.”

He turned his head, dipping his head toward George as he said, “George, I need you to get me as many regeneration potions and golden apples as you can, ASAP.”

George was on his feet as fast as he could, already turning on his heel. “I’m on it,” he shouted as he took off, already booking it down the hill.

Finally, Tubbo spoke up, asking the one question that had been on everyone’s mind. “Dream, what’s going on?”

Clay’s eyes darkened, and you could just barely feel his hands tighten around you while your vision swam.

“[Y/N]’s been poisoned.”

Wilbur gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”

Sapnap whipped his head around, gazing at the once serene picnic blanket with sheer terror. “What the fu—”

Suddenly, your hand shot up to grip Clay’s collar, his eyes immediately darting to yours. You gasped, your head absolutely throbbing as your heart rammed against your rib cage all too quickly. You opened your mouth, your spit tasting like salt and ash.

“Clay, I—”

The words died in your mouth as the world went dark, enveloping you in cold darkness.

You awoke with a start, bolting upright as you gasped, the cool air flooding your aching lungs. Immediately, you felt your stomach churn in retaliation, and your skull practically screamed at you to lie back down again. Slamming a hand over your eye, you felt the spinning of your head slowly fade away. Disoriented and dizzy, the blurriness of your vision began to lift as you blinked, taking in the sight of the room around you.

You didn’t recognize the windowsill at your side or the mattress you were lying on. The closed door stared back at you as your gaze swept over it, almost as if it knew you were confused. Not even the sheets looked familiar.

Where... am I?

You swallowed, something sharp and uneasy prickling up your spine.

What happened?

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you tried to recall the events that had led you up to this moment.

You remembered... cookies. And a picnic. Clay’s hand in yours. There was food, and laughter. Then suddenly, you were queasy. Sick. Something wasn’t right. Then... nothing.

You blanched. Did I pass out?

Just then, you heard the door click, the hinges swinging open with a creak. Your eyes flew open and your breath hitched in your throat, and you turned, your fingers curling tighter into the sheets. Your eyes went wide as Clay walked in, one hand on the handle and the other holding an apple. The moment his eyes met yours, he froze.

“Clay?” you whispered, your voice sounding hoarse.

The apple dropped to the ground.

In an instant, he was in front of you with his hands on your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. His emerald eyes bore straight into yours with an intensity that sent your heart reeling. The words flew from his mouth in a flurry, his gaze never leaving yours.

“How are you feeling? Can you hear me? Is everything feeling alrig—”

“Woah, woah,” you said, waving your hand to cue him to stop, “what happened?”

His fingers trembled against your cheeks, and you could have sworn his eyes flashed with something wet. “[Y/N], oh, I’m—” He swallowed, his neck bobbing as he sent you a grateful smile. “I’m just so glad that you’re here.”

His hands pulled away from your face as he stood upright once more, heading for the open door. “Here, I’ll be back in a second.”

You raised your hand toward him, opening your mouth to say something, but he was already gone, having disappeared down the hall in a flash. Blinking, you sat stunned and even more confused than before, left only to wait and hope for an explanation once he returned.

Hardly even two minutes passed before you heard the rumbling of footsteps racing toward the open door. You squeaked when a series of faces filled the room, their cheeks red and chests heaving as they caught their breath. Clay immediately shuffled back to your side, slipping into the space on the bed next to you before grabbing your hand, squeezing.

“[Y/N]!” Niki cried, her eyes filled with panic. “Are you okay?”

Beside her, Tubbo’s hands shook at his side. “We only just heard from Dream that you were awake.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, your mind still hazy with everything that had just happened. Struggling to come up with an answer, you found yourself blurting the first words that came to mind. “How long has it been?”

You saw George shoot Sapnap a look, shrugging his shoulders before glancing back at you. “Uh, like, half a day.”

You shot forward, gaping. “Half a day?!”

Tommy flashed you a bright grin, leaning against Tubbo’s shoulder with a teasing look. “Yeah, you should have seen Dream run around! He spoon fed you regeneration potions and probably even read three whole fuckin’ libraries’ worth of books on poison antidotes while you wer—”

A hand suddenly smacked into Tommy’s skull, and he yelped. Behind him, Wilbur scowled. “Tommy!” he scolded. There was a soft giggle, then Wilbur whirled, his eyes narrowing. “And Quackity.” The giggles stopped. “Don’t think I didn’t see you laughing. This is serious.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay, but it is funn—”

“[Y/N],” Clay suddenly said, cutting Tommy off as his hand squeezed yours.

You blinked, trying to ignore how low his voice sounded right about now. “Y-Yeah?”

He cocked his head at you, gesturing to the sheets covering your lower half. “Can you move your legs?”

“Um...” Lifting an arm, you flung the sheets off of you, carefully shifting your leg back and forth. “Y-Yeah. I’m still feeling kind of funny, though.” You wrinkled your nose. “I’m not sure if I can stand, yet.”

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. I had a feeling this would happen, but I still wished it wouldn’t.”

Quackity took a step forward, his hand outstretched toward you. “Here, [Y/N], try—”

A snarl ripped itself out of Clay’s throat, and his shout echoed off the walls. “Don’t touch them!”

A tense silence immediately fell over the room, and Quackity back-pedalled, pulling his hand back as if he had burned it on hot coal. You watched as a pang of guilt shot across Clay’s face before he sighed. “Sorry, I mean—” He shook his head, lowering his head. “Fuck.”

Sapnap sent him a small smile, sincere and reassuring. “Hey, man,” he said softly, “it’s alright. We get it. You’re stressed. I’d react the same way if I was in your position.”

Clay raised his chin a little, his lips quirking. “Thanks, Sap.”

Wilbur suddenly spoke up, his eyes trained on you. “Dream, I think we still have some questions we should ask.”

Clay blinked, then nodded. “Right, thanks, Wilbur.” Clearing his throat, he turned to face you head on.” Do you still remember the picnic?” When you nodded, he continued. “Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

You paused, then shook your head. “Not that I can remember. I woke up, packed up a basket, walked over to the field with you, ate with everyone, then...” You gestured vaguely. “Well, y’know.”

His gaze hardened. “What did you eat?”

You thought for a moment. “Um, I ate an apple, and I had two slices of George’s bread.” You paused again, furrowing your brows. Then, your eyes lit up. “Oh, and I also ate some of the fish.”

Clay stared at you. “Fish?” he parroted.

You bobbed your head, humming. “Yeah. That’s about as much as I remember.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you could practically see the gears turning in Clay’s head. “Did anyone else here eat the fish?” he finally said after a while.

Your friends cast curious looks at one another before George raised his hand, shaking his head. “No.” He jutted his head toward you. “[Y/N] was the first and only person to, I believe.”

Clay pursed his lips. “Tubbo.”

Tubbo jumped, looking panicked and shaky as he stammered out, “Y-Yes, Dream?”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “Who exactly brought the fish?”

Tubbo gulped. “Uh, it, um, ah—” He inhaled sharply at the look on Clay’s face, then sighed. “I did, Dream.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Then, Clay sighed, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Oh, it all makes sense now.”

Now, it was Tommy’s turn to speak, his expression clouded with confusion. “How the fuck does that make this make any more sense than it did before?”

Clay suddenly slipped his hand out of yours, your palm meeting nothing as he rose to his full height. You felt the air grow cold.

“Tubbo,” he said slowly, casually—almost too casually. A crooked, charming smile spread across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What kind of fish was it?”

Tubbo lowered his gaze to the ground. “Pufferfish,” he said in a tiny whisper.

Tommy stared. “Oh.” Understanding flickered across his face before being replaced by horror. “Oh.”

Clay took a step forward, the grin never leaving his face. “Tubbo—”

Your hand shot forward, grabbing onto his wrist before he could take another step. His arm was tense underneath your touch, but he stopped the moment your skin met his. “Clay,” you said quickly, your words rushed and hurried, “stop, please.”

He turned, looking back at you over his shoulder. You shook your head at him. “I’m sure it was an accident. Tubbo would never poison anyone deliberately, let alone me.”

You heard a soft hiccup, then Tubbo spoke. “I-I wouldn’t, I swear it! I just... I thought cooking pufferfish would make them less toxic for other people.”

Niki raised her hand, her face pleading as her eyes darted back and forth between Dream and Tubbo. “I can vouch for him, and not just because we’re friends. He might have built up his own tolerance for pufferfish poison, but I don’t think he realized just how bad it could turn out to be.”

Tubbo nodded frantically, looking smaller than ever as he finally lifted his head. “Seriously, Dream, I would never do it intentionally, I promise.” He turned to look at you, his sides shaking as your gaze met his.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he whispered, honesty and desperation soaking into every syllable he spoke, “I really am.”

Your face softened immediately, and you could only hope he knew how sincere you were being. “I forgive you, Tubbo.” Your eyes flit to the man in front of you. “Do you, Clay?”

You couldn’t see his expression from where you were sitting, but the look of terror on Tubbo’s face said it all. “Yes,” he said, “but only because you do.”

Your grip around his wrist tightened. “Clay, I’m positive. Please, just let it be.” You tugged a little, and he turned, watching as you kicked your legs at him with a small smile. “I’m all better now, see?”

The coldness in his gaze finally seemed to melt, and he shook his head at you, his lips twitching. “Fine.” Walking back over to you, you tucked your legs back against you as he sat on the bed, levelling a glare at the crowd gathered in front of you. “Now everyone, get out.”

There was a whistle. “Jeez, aggressive mu—”

“Tommy,” Wilbur said again, already tugging at the blond’s collar as he tread toward the hall, “an angry Dream is not someone you want to mess with.”

Tommy glowered as everyone filed out of the room, his voice fading away as they disappeared outside. “Ugh, you are such a killjo—”

Sapnap sent you a friendly smile as his hand wrapped around the door handle. “I hope you feel better soon, [Y/N].”

You returned his grin with a grateful look. “Thanks, Sapnap.”

With one last wave, he pulled the door shut, leaving you alone with Clay. Shifting forward slightly, you swung your legs off the bed, nudging him with your side. “Clay?” you murmured, your eyes searching his face. It was at times like this he was easier to read.

With a sigh, he hung his head in his hands, the vein in his neck bulging out. “God, I know he means well, but I still kind of want to wring Tubbo’s neck, right now.”

You leaned against him, pressing your cheek to his bicep. “Clay, don’t say that.”

He lifted his head, growling. “I know, I know! It’s just—”

He bit his lip, then sighed again, his arm reaching up to pull you onto his lap. Shifting you around so that you were facing him, his leaned his forehead against yours, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“You don’t know how scared I was,” he whispered, sincere and true. “I never want to lose you. Ever.”

Heat crawled up your neck, and your head spun, but not for the same reasons as before. “C-Clay.”

His hand stroked along your back. “It’s the truth, y’know? I’d never lie to you, and I mean every word.” Leaning upward, he pressed his lips to your forehead as he spoke, the words shaking against your skin. “You mean more to me than you may ever know.”

You hummed, your heart blossoming in your chest. “Even if that’s the case,” you said, “you don’t need to be so upset, anymore.” You felt his lips leave your forehead, and you peered up at him through your lashes. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

You leaned back in his arms, reaching up to brush your fingertips over his freckles. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched him melt a little at the gesture. “Now,” you said, quiet yet firm, “promise me you won’t be mad at Tubbo the next time you see him.”

He blinked. “W-What?”

You pursed your lips. “Clay.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I promise.” A sly grin slipped onto his face. “But only if...”

You raised a brow at him. “Only if...?”

You half-wanted to smack the stupid grin off his stupidly perfect face. “Only if you give me a kiss.”

You giggled, slipping your arms over his shoulder and around his neck. He always knew how to make you laugh, even at serious times like this. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. He still tasted like freshly squeezed lemonade, gleaming in the light of the sweet summer sun. You felt him smile against you, and you pulled away mirroring his expression.

“There,” you whispered, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Does that seal the deal?”

He hummed, tilting his head at you while mischief danced in his eyes. “Maybe you should do it again just to make sure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t stop the giddy smile from spreading across your face.

Your picnic may have been a disaster, but you wouldn’t mind ending your days wrapped in Clay’s arms more often.

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bubblesuga · 3 years

Text

Mahina || Part 1

Summary: Jungkook couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something drawing him to you. Like the moon tugs at the tides, he needed to be beside you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 4,626 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

When Jungkook awoke this morning, something was... different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the air in his room seemed to have shifted slightly. He felt lighter on his feet, a sudden bounce to his step while he pulled himself off of the bed and towards the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as usual, carefully scrubbing his tongue and admiring his reflection in the mirror. The eyebrow piercing was a good edition, he thinks. It accentuates his high brow and sparkles underneath even the dimmest light. Spritzing himself with cologne, he opens the bathroom door just in time.

"Jungkook, I made breakfast! Hurry up!"

Smiling to himself, he trots down the stairs of the far too large penthouse he and his band mates bought a couple years ago. He doesn't mind sharing with 6 other people, though. Having grown up with no siblings, he enjoys the dynamics at play when he speaks to the members. They're all his brothers, co-workers, family... He couldn't have asked for a better turn out when it came to finding a career path.

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen when Jungkook walks in, the smell of pork and kimchi filling his nose. Thanking his hyung, he grabs a bowl and starts filling up.

"You seem happy this morning," Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Jungkook shrugs, "I just woke up in a really good mood. I feel like--" he takes a bit of his food, then speaks with his mouth full, "--something amazing is going to happen today."

"We just have rehearsals?" Yoongi's statement comes off as more of a question.

"Exactly." Jungkook says, continuing to munch on his food. Yoongi looks at the younger man and shakes his head, continuing to fry meat for the rest of the members.

"Hey, did Namjoon come home last night?" Seokjin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He takes a spot beside Jungkook on the counter, reaching into his bowl and grabbing a piece of pork belly. Jungkook attempts to push his hand away but Seokjin smacks it and grabs the meat anyway.

Yoongi shakes his head again, "Nah. He stayed at the studio last night, said something about a last minute inspiration."

Jungkook has noticed Namjoon's lack of attentiveness recently. It seems as though his head is always filled with potential themes and lyrics and beats, much more so than even in the early days of the band. He's curious about his inspiration as of late but Namjoon doesn't seem to want to give away his methods any time soon.

"He's been doing that a lot lately." Jungkook thinks outloud.

"More power to him," Seokjin says, "man works his ass off and it benefits all of us."

Yeah, it definitely does.

~*~*~

"5, 6, 7-"

Hoseok's counting is cut off by the music blasting again. It's the third run through of the new choreography, Jungkook is center and carefully watches the rest of his hyungs in the mirror. He moves to the left, following Hoseok's lead and smiling as he notices a mis-step on Jimin's part. Jimin throws his head back and yells, lifting his shirt up and wiping some of the sweat that's accumulated on his brow.

"It's okay, Jiminie," Hoseok sings, "this shit is hard."

Seokjin nods in agreement, "Yeah, what the hell happened to a laid back choreography for this come back?"

"It's the last one of the year. We gotta go out with a bang." Jungkook turns back to look at Namjoon, who chugs water in the corner of the room. "Speaking of big come backs, are you working on your mixtape?"

Namjoon laughs, "Nah, definitely not. I'm trying to get a couple more songs for the album."

"Don't we have like 14 tracks?" Taehyung speaks for the first time since rehearsal started.

"16 is better than 14." Namjoon smiles, listening to Hoseok as he calls everyone over again.

"One more time. 5, 6-"

It's then that the doors burst open and Hyun enters in. "And this is the rehearsal room containing the 7 men you will be photographing."

Jungkook's eyes travel to the person his manager is talking to, and he has to hold back a gasp. He feels the way his jaw drops, but he's unable to close his mouth while he looks at you. God, you're gorgeous. Your hair cascades down your back and your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways. Jungkook struggles to tear his eyes away, but once he sees your smile he realizes there's no way he can turn away. You're literally glowing, with god-like shining eyes. Who are you?

"Boys, this is _____. She's in charge of photography and will be around to film Bangtan Bombs, behind the scenes, or anything you all want filmed and made into content."

Jungkook repeats your name in his head five times. He whispers it to himself once while everyone else heads to you to shake your hand. Jungkook stands back, finally blinking his eyes.

You step forward after having shook the hands of everyone else, "And you're Jungkook," you smile again, "I like your tattoos. Glad you're finally willing to show them."

"T- tattoos..." Jungkook mutters pathetically as he takes your outstretched hand. You giggle, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Well, anyway. It was nice to meet you all. I'm excited to work closely with every one of you." your words are met with a chorus of 'same!' from everyone except for Jungkook.

Hyun puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you out of the room, continuing on the tour of the HYBE building. Jungkook stares after you, the doorway now long empty but he couldn't look away. You were, by far, the most beautiful woman he has ever come across. With your simple torn jeans and black t-shirt, he feels you could pull off anything you put on your body.

It's not until Yoongi speaks does Jungkook finally tear his eyes away, "Could you have been any creepier?"

"What?"

Jimin bursts into laughter, his frustration with the choreography long gone, "You were-" he takes a deep breath in between laughter, "you were staring at her like she was the last woman on the planet!"

"W- what?" Jungkook stammers.

Jimin doesn't respond, only laughing louder as he falls to the ground. Jungkook can see the hidden smirks of the rest of the members, turning his to look at everyone, "What the fuck just happened?"

"Love at first sight?" Taehyung suggests.

"More like love at first drool." Seokjin begins laughing before he even finishes his sentence, causing the rest of the members to groan at his joke.

Jungkook doesn't react to Seokjin though, as he turns to look back at the empty doorway. If love at first sight is a real thing, Jungkook just experienced it to the fullest extent.

~*~*~

Jungkook manages to continue the rest of rehearsal without a problem, except for the way his mind kept traveling back to you. Saying your name in his head again, he washes up in the gym showers. He thinks back to the way your skin seemed to be literally glowing to him, and your bright white teeth hypnotizing him.

Never in his life has he had such a short conversation with someone that had such an impact. He wants to learn everything about you, your passions, the music you like, the books you read. He hopes that you enjoy some of the same things he does, so he has an excuse to talk to you.

Though his interest in you is certainly piqued, he has to keep in mind that you are, essentially, his employee, and fantasizing about your employee is more than inappropriate.

Fantasizing might not be the right word, but he can't help and imagine conversations between the two of you. Your voice is so pretty, it's light but carries through the room. You make sure your presence is known, though with the way you shine you didn't have to try hard. He smiles to himself, closing his eyes and rinsing off the conditioner from hair. Then, he wonders what your hair looks like when it's wet.

Okay, Jungkook. That's enough.

He shakes the water off his head and wraps a towel around his body. Exiting the shower, he realizes he forgot his bag in the dance room and sighs. Checking the time on his phone, he realizes that it's after 9 pm. The odds of anyone other than the members being here is pretty slim so he can just walk his way to the rehearsal room and change in there, right?

Right.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he walks out of the gym bathroom and strolls down the hall. He scrolls through his phone while he walks, rounding the corner and hearing your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'm very excited to properly start tomorrow."

"We're excited to have you," Jungkook peeks his head around the corner and watches Hyun bow to you, "your work is incredible and I know Taehyung in particular loves your shooting style."

What? Taehyung knows her? Jungkook must have missed that earlier when he couldn't stop staring at you.

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that one of the bangtan boys followed my work," you let out a small, somewhat embarrassed giggle, "thank god for Instagram."

You and Hyun share a laugh, followed by a goodbye. Jungkook gasps as he sees you turn in his direction, rushing to a small doorway and pushing himself up against the wall. You can't see him like this, not already. He's nearly naked and he knows this towel isn't big enough to cover himself as well as he should in front of a stranger, so he holds his breath as your foot steps become closer... and closer... and-

"Hey Jungkook."

Fuck.

Jungkook exhales a breath and moves to tighten the towel around his waist even more. You're eyes are not scanning his body like he thought you would be. Of course, Jungkook knows that sounds cocky of him to say but he can't help but assume that that would be the outcome of this situation. Either way, his face still burns when your eyes meet his. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes.

"Were ya hiding?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side, and Jungkook realizes that he's still pressed up against the wall.

"I- I, uh-" come on Jungkook, get it together, "Sorry. I didn't want you to see me naked."

"Oh please. When humans are naked, they're at their purest forms. It's natural, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you smile brightly, moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. Your phrasing is odd, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he swallows, "You're right, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been okay with my dick just hangin' out. Neither would the security watching the cameras."

You laugh, a proper laugh that doesn't seem to be masked by something else, and Jungkook realizes it's melodic. A fine tune singing into his ears as one of the most beautiful songs he has ever heard. It's soft, breathy, and makes him want to make you laugh for the rest of eternity.

"Either way," you say after a moment, the hint of humor still in your voice, "nothing to be ashamed of. I'll see you tomorrow, Jungkook."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you wave and waving back as you carry your feet towards the elevators.

~*~*~

The air was even lighter this morning, and Jungkook can't help but think you play a part in his bright mood.

Following the conversation yesterday, Jungkook walked with a grin on his face to grab his clothes. You're incredibly charismatic, an stark difference to Jungkook's usual shy and laid back personality. Despite your conversations together being minimal, Jungkook feels you and him are going to be close.

Jungkook hops out of bed and styles his hair carefully. Checking his phone as he brushes his teeth, he's received a text from Taehyung apologizing because he had already left. The house sounds still, he remembers Yoongi and Seokjin opted at staying at their respective apartments tonight, wanting to be a little closer to home. Namjoon probably stayed at the studio again and Jimin and Hoseok more than likely left with Taehyung. He shrugs, making a quick protein shake and grabbing a banana before heading out of the door.

As he drives to work, he makes note at how much more productive the members have been these days. Not that they never were, but the usual slump of exhaustion that follows months of continuous promotions, rehearsals, and recording doesn't seem to be hitting anyone this time around. Surely, the explanation is the high everyone is riding from the success of Butter and Permission To dance in the west. It's motivated everyone, including Jungkook himself.

He pulls into the parking garage, rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, and steps off only to be stopped by Hoseok.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck and squeezes him tight.

"Hoseokie!" Jungkook mocks, giving a pat to the older one's back. Hoseok pulls away with a chuckle, "I guess _____ is doing behind the scene shoots today. Something about wanting to catch us in our element."

"Oh? Like individual shoots?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "she's with Yoongi in his studio right now. She told me to tell everyone to choose a thing they do on a daily basis that might be interesting to see for ARMY."

"Should I work out?" Jungkook smirks. Hoseok rolls his eyes, patting Jungkook's pecs,

"You work out enough." Smiling, he begin walking towards the commons area,

"I'm almost to where I want to be." "Whatever Jungkook, you bully us enough already." Hoseok pats Jungkook's head and walks away, leaving Jungkook to sit on the couches for a moment.

He picks up his phone and scrolls through Weverse and Twitter for a moment. Despite not being as active as people wish he could be, he does keep up with what everyone is talking about. Currently he sees excitement about their online concert from last year coming to DVD, and "JUNGKOOK'S ABS" is trending.

Yeah, he's definitely going to work out for his behind the scenes.

Holding his phone up, he snaps a quick selfie and posts it to Twitter. Once a month seems to be a good formula.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice enters the room, "She's gonna shoot with Namjoon then you."

"Ah," Jungkook stands, "time to get nice and sweaty for ARMY."

"You're such a freak." Yoongi laughs, watching Jungkook leave the room.

Jungkook begins on the treadmill, listening to music and trying not to think about the fact that you're going to be photographing him while he's working out. He feels somewhat dumb, being so incredibly invested in your opinions of him already, but like yesterday proved, there was something about you that drew him in.

He speeds up the treadmill, his calves burning and his breathing quickening while he runs. It's incredible, the feeling of absolute bliss he feels after a run. When his muscles ache and his chest feels clear, he feels most at peace. Though, peace isn't difficult to come across these days. Even with the sadness of not being able to perform live like he wants to, it's not as looming as it was before. It's incredibly exhilarating to wake up not feeling like the end is near. It happened so suddenly, he's not sure what changed.

At the beginning, when they had to cancel the tour and stay in Korea, Jungkook felt as though life was never going to be the same. It was dark for everyone. He remembers Jimin crying in the bathroom after the cancellation, which caused Jungkook to start crying as well. He scrolled through social media for hours, reading the anger and frustration at those who had to return their tickets. It pained him, to see such a bleak view of the fans he adored.

Now that it's been close to 2 years, Jungkook has learned to-- for lack of a better term-- live with it. He wakes up every day and tries his hardest to live, and that's all you can do when your passion in life is ripped away from you due to an ongoing worldwide pandemic.

The gym doors slide open and Jungkook looks in the mirror to see you.

You have a camera around your neck, Jungkook recognizes it as a Canon. You close the door behind you and stop him as Jungkook starts to slow down the treadmill.

"Pretend like I'm not even here." you nearly whisper, and Jungkook has to stop himself from choking on his spit. Your voice sounded almost sultry. He can't tell if that was his imagination or if it was intentional on your part.

Jungkook shakes his head, turning up the speed just a little bit more.

He hears the shutter on your camera clicking, the action setting in full effect as he runs. You move around him, being sure not to get yourself in the mirror of the shots. The only noises in the room are his breathing and the sounds of his feet hitting the runway. It's rough, his chest heaving the more he pushes himself, but he's more interested in the way you seem to float around the room, or the fact that your hands seem dwarfed by the large camera.

It makes him wonder what your hands would look like on him.

A necklace dangles from your neck, it's gold and shines under the lights of the gym. It falls gently into the crevice of your chest, what looks like a golden moon on the end of the chain.

Again, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his.

"You gotta stop looking at the camera." you giggle.

He didn't even realize his eyes were following you. Suddenly, it's like a wave of confidence washes over him. Confidence that he was not ready for.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I'm not looking at the camera." Why is he saying this?

"Yes you are," you grin, "I have like 7 pictures in a row of you looking directly at the camera."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm looking at the person holding the camera." Shut up, Jungkook. Stop talking!

"Oh?" you laugh, "what's catching your eye?"

"The necklace." what the fuck? He basically admitted to staring at your tits!

"The necklace that's right in between my tits?"

He laughs, you snap a picture.

"I guess so, I'm sorry." The usual nervousness that he would feel at an admission like that is non-existent. He feels comfortable enough to talk to you like this, and judging by the way you smile, you're comfortable with it too.

"No need to be sorry," you snap another picture, "I know they draw attention."

Jungkook nods, "They certainly do."

"What do you like about them?"

The question throws Jungkook for a loop but he doesn't let that show.

"They're perky," he explains, stopping the treadmill, "and your shirts show off the perfect amount to leave some to the imagination."

"Ah, so you're imagining my tits?"

"Yes."

You smirk, walking away. For a moment, Jungkook is scared he said too much, but it's very quickly washed away by the sound of the lock turning. "So," you begin, "you're saying that if I took off my shirt, you wouldn't be opposed to looking at me?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I also wouldn't be opposed to touching you."

"Well," you slip off your shirt, "I'm ready."

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his gym shorts at the sight of your bra. Of your fucking bra.

Despite the blood rushing to his cock, he shakes his head, "Oh come on, darling. You know that's not enough for me."

"Your shirt first, buddy." your eyes follow Jungkook as he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Now that there's verbal consent, your eyes roam all over his torso. He's ripped, Jungkook knows this, but under your gaze he feels like a meal. Like he's about to get devoured by you, and he can't say he's not enjoying the idea.

You reach behind you, unhooking your bra and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Jungkook's eyes widen at sight, stepping closer to you and falling to his knees. He places his nose against your torso, inhaling your scent. The sensuality of the small gasp that left your mouth fueled Jungkook. He grabs your hands and pulls you down to his level, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's rough and heated, all teeth and tongue. He's not used to being this way, to feeling almost primal in his movements. He gnaws at your bottom lip, eliciting another moan from you. It's high pitched and nearly whiny, proving that you're suddenly filled with as much need as he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Jungkook states, "right here. Right now."

"Please." you toss your head back, falling onto the padded floors of the gym. Jungkook follows suit, kissing his way down your body until he reaches your navel. Again, he presses his nose into you and inhales, you smell so damn good.

He keeps smelling, inhaling your scent as he undoes the buttons of your jeans. The less clothing there, the stronger your scent becomes. He feels insatiable, nearly ripping off your panties to get to your center.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Jungkook groans, his voice deep with want, with need. Taking a single finger up your slit, he draws it back and sucks your juices clean, "and you taste as good as you smell."

You stare up at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself up on your elbows and spreading your legs as wide as you can. "Now that you've had a taste you might as well finish it."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, diving into your soaked folds with his tongue. He moves fast but also meticulously, being sure to take note of all the places that make you moan a little louder, sink a little deeper into him. Your hand reaches down and snakes its way through his hair, tugging at the roots.

At that point, Jungkook begins to kick off his shorts without pulling away.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to fuck you," you moan in between words, "you always look so good everywhere you go."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckles, "did you imagine fucking me before you got hired here?"

You nod, "I couldn't help it, I knew you'd be good."

As Jungkook manages to get his shorts off, he grips ahold of his aching member. Pulling up to his knees, his thumb doesn't stop rubbing harsh circles against your clit.

"That's hot," Jungkook breathes, "I've been wanting to take you since I first saw you."

"Then do it." you demand, and a flip switches in Jungkook's brain.

He pulls his fingers away from you and leans forward, "Taste yourself."

You don't hesitate to take his fingers into your mouth, Jungkook feeling your tongue dance across the pads of his fingers. Feeling himself twitch, he strokes himself for a little bit of relief while you suck.

"Taste good?" He questions.

"Delicious."

"Good girl." He murmurs, leaning down and connecting your lips with his again. As he does so, he runs the head of his cock against your slit, enjoying the gasp you let out every time he brushes against your clit. You feel so warm, so inviting. He can taste you so well, he wants nothing more than to dive in.

So he does.

Pressing into you slowly, he feels your warmth envelope him. Your legs wrap around his hips and guide him in all the way. When he slips all the way in, you both pull away for a moan.

"So fucking good. So tight." He moves his hips achingly slow, enjoying the noises of content leaving your lips. Your moans spur him on as your tightness engulfs him yet again. He leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, your hot skin nearly burning his lips, "I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head, "You can't hurt me. I promise."

Jungkook isn't sure what takes over him at this point, but he feels his lips begin to thrust harshly into you. He doesn't process the rest of the world, the only thing that's certain is you. You're everything that he needs to focus on now, your whines, your moans, the feeling of your legs guiding him in and out of you. He wants to take you here over and over again until the end of time, and he's never felt that about anyone before in his life.

Your lips are beginning to bruise from the rough kisses he's been laying on you, so he takes a gentle approach and sucks on your jawline. Every few thrusts, he rests his forehead against yours. Then he moves again. Then rests.

"Tell me how good I feel." you whisper against his lips, breathy.

"Baby," Jungkook's brows knit together in pleasure, "you feel so good around me. So warm. I want to cum in you and fill you up so bad. Do-n't stop squeezing- fuck."

Jungkook abandons the pace he tried to keep and slams into you, pulling you on top of him and lifting you up and down on his cock. You let out a scream as he reaches a point he hasn't touched before, your cunt tightening exponentially around him.

He latches his mouth onto your nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening against his tongue. Your nails rake down his chest while you grind against him, your ass smacking against his thighs while he begins thrusting upward.

His hands grip your hips harshly, sure enough to leave bruises by his fingertips. He feels his orgasm approaching quickly, but he needs you to cum first. He need to feel you cum around him. "Fuck," he growls through clenched teeth, "cum. I need you to cum. Cum around me, please please please!"

"I'm gonna- I'm-" your sentence is cut off by your orgasm taking over, clenching deliciously around Jungkook and pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter and he releases into you, your warmth mixing with his as he collapses onto the ground. You're both silent for a while, your chests heaving as you try to calm down. Jungkook leans up, keeping you in a hug as your knees move to either side of his hips. Neither of you make a move to pull apart, Jungkook softening inside of you but the sensitivity feels so good.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, glancing behind you and towards the mirrors. On the inner edge of each of your shoulder blades, lay two large scars. They're old, pink in color now. Jungkook reaches a finger up to trace the scars but is stopped by a knock on the door.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are _____!" Jimin's voice sounds through the gym, muffled by the door.

"Shit." You whisper, "shit, shit, shit!"

You quickly pull off of him, beginning to slip your panties and bra back on.

Jungkook flinches at the sudden loss of warmth around him, looking down at his cock and seeing a mixture of his and your cum coating his thighs. "Don't you need to clean up?" he whispers.

"I'll stop by the bathroom on the way." you murmur, now fully dressed, "thank you for that, by the way." you wink, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing a hard kiss against him. Then, you're out the door.

Jungkook is left naked on the floor, confused, and wanting to ask why exactly you have asymmetrical scars on your back.

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x reader angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x you

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Note

feysand blind date

Loving Every Second of It

Fluff//3010 words

Feyre wasn’t sure what she was expecting tonight.

Lucien had set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend and there was no way it wasn’t going to end miserably. Maybe Feyre would say something stupid and he would think she was weird. Maybe he would decide she wasn’t pretty enough or her clothes weren’t nice or she was just boring. Maybe some other woman who was everything she would never be would catch his eye. Maybe—

“I really hope you’re not still imagining ways this will end poorly.”

Feyre frowned. “Seriously, Lu, this is a bad idea.”

Lucien elbowed her. “You said, and I quote, “I’m done being a lonely spinster who’s too busy regretting my life choices to get laid.” Therefore I, as the good friend I am, decided to get you a date. And consequently, laid. So stop being a bitch. If it doesn’t end well, at least you put yourself out there, right?”

She sighed. “If it doesn’t end well, I will have to endure the long-lasting humiliation and despair for the rest of my life. That’s not something I’m inclined to want.”

“The only reason I’m still here listening to your self-pity is because I know if I leave you’ll chicken out.”

“And because I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, that too.”

Feyre scowled and crossed her arms. “You don’t say that very convincingly.”

Lucien just smiled and gave Feyre a peck on the cheek. “You’ll have a good time tonight. Just be yourself.”

“But what if he doesn’t like myself?”

“He will. Azriel has good taste in people, as evidenced by the fact that he’s dating me,” Lucien stated matter-of-factly.

Feyre rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to cross her features. Azriel had only started dated Feyre’s best friend a couple weeks ago, and she’d met the man a handful of times. It was his friend, Rhys, she thought he’d said, that she would be going on a date with tonight.

“It’s time to go,” Lu told her.

Feyre blinked. “Already?”

“Yes, don’t pretend you haven’t been counting the seconds. You’re such a bullshitter.”

A mournful sigh was all she gave Lucien before heading to the door. They had agreed to meet at the restaurant, a fancy, but also homey, little place downtown.

“Wait.”

Feyre almost growled out loud. If Lucien kept distracting her, she was going to lose her nerve.

“I’m driving you to the restaurant.”

Feyre spun around. “What do you mean you’re driving me? I was about to walk out the door.”

Lucien crossed his arms. “Yes, but that still leaves you with dozens of opportunities to turn back around. I won’t risk it.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes, but reluctantly allowed him to take her. The drive was unpleasant—Feyre would never admit it to him, but Lucien had been right. Had she had the option, she would have turned around by the time they pulled up at the restaurant. Feyre’s hands were clenched into fists to keep them from shaking.

She tried to think when she had become so nervous about dates. It probably had something to do with Tamlin. Tamlin was a bastard who had ridiculed and scorned Feyre subtly enough during their relationship that Feyre had begun to think of herself as worthless, entirely unaware it was his fault. She’d dumped his sorry ass after she caught him in Feyre’s own fucking bed with Ianthe, a “friend.”

Yes, that was definitely the cause of Feyre’s anxiety. She was never excessively social or flirty, but she had at least been cool and collected, as many guys noticed. Or they used to, anyway. Now she was scared to go on a single gods-damn date.

“Are you going to get out of the car, or are we going to sit here all night?” Lucien’s dry voice cut into her thoughts.

Feyre glared at him, not deigning to give a response other than a raised finger (try and guess which one) and getting out. She closed the door and turned around, checking her phone for the time before turning it on silent. It was only a few minutes before six-thirty, so he may or may not be there already.

Taking a moment—and making sure Lucien had already driven off—Feyre smoothed out her dress apprehensively. She was wearing a plain blue dress suited for a special occasion, but still simple enough not to be too flashy. Had she misjudged what to wear? Should she have with something more stylish? Or maybe more revealing, showing off more of her legs or breasts?

And her makeup—was it too plain? Should she have chosen better earrings? Should she be wearing more jewelry? Were her flats too drab?

Feyre almost wished Lucien had stayed to make sure she made it in the restaurant. Steeling herself for the inevitable letdown that tonight would be, Feyre went inside.

Before she had a chance to look around, she nearly ran into a man waiting at the entrance.

“Oh, you’re pretty.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

Feyre blinked. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She was blushing and cursing herself for her lack of a filter.

Although, who could blame her? The man was dark-skinned, violet-eyed, and muscled, with dark, tousled hair and strong cheekbones. He was wearing an insanely hot dress shirt with the sleeves—the fucking sleeves—rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms. Pretty was a bit of an understatement.

The man was grinning now. The bastard probably had a lot of women telling him he was pretty. Feyre kicked herself internally.

“Well, if it makes it better, I think you’re pretty too.”

Feyre’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Um, thanks. I should… I have a date… with um…” She trailed off, the man smirking all the while. And then she thought of something.

“You’re Rhys, aren’t you? I mean sure, there are plenty of other people here who could be Rhys, but I have the worst luck, and telling my date he’s pretty totally qualifies as bad luck. Fuck, I thought we’d at least make it to the table before I scared you away. Oh shit, I’m just making it worse now, aren’t I?”

Rhys, or the random guy Feyre was assuming to be Rhys, smiled. Not condescendingly or rudely in any way, just more of an amused expression. “I am Rhys. Which I think makes you Feyre?”

Feyre nodded sullenly.

“It takes more than a beautiful woman complimenting me to scare me away, don’t worry. Why don’t we sit down?”

Feyre’s face was crimson, she was sure of it. She hadn’t expected a compliment from him after that little incident. She tried to think of what Lucien would say right now. Don’t worry, it’ll be a fun story to tell your kids. Okay, not helping.

Trying to turn off her brain, admittedly without much success, Feyre nodded once more and let Rhys lead her over to a table by the window. It was mostly dark outside, so the choice of seating only allowed to give them some privacy as opposed to being in the middle of the room. Probably not a conscious choice on Rhys’ choice, but Feyre quite liked it.

He also pulled the chair out for Feyre to sit. What a gentleman.

Feyre awkwardly fumbled with the menu, trying not to stare at Rhys’ beautiful face.

“Have you been here before, Feyre?” So much for that.

She looked up. “No, I haven’t.”

“I’ve been a couple times. Of course you can get whatever you like, but I would recommend the braised pork. It was delicious.”

Feyre bit her lip. “It sounds good.”

The waiter came over just then and Rhys asked for the braised pork for himself, then Feyre said to make it two orders.

He left, and the pair was left in silence once more. “So, Rhys,” Feyre said, making an effort not to be entirely silent. “Tell me about yourself.”

He smiled. “I work as an architect. I like reading, sightseeing, and talking to interesting ladies. How about you?”

Feyre snorted. “I’m an artist. I like, well, painting I guess. And jogging. And talking to handsome men, I suppose I should say.”

Rhys full-on grinned. “Tell me about your work. Is it just paint, or other types of art?”

Feyre answered his question, and then a few more. She tried not to talk too much, not wanting to take over the conversation, but Rhys showed such a genuine interest in her passion that Feyre could help opening up. By the time the food arrived, he knew her style, her favorite colors to use, her methods of gaining inspiration, and her opinions on some classic pieces that Rhys seemed to know more than the average person about.

Then the waiter interrupted with their meal. Once everything was served and Feyre had already dug into the pork, which was even more delectable then Rhys had let on, he asked another question.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to try out a blind date?”

Feyre finished chewing, using the time to think about how to answer his question properly. “I ended a bad relationship a few months ago, and I’ve been a bit lacking in confidence since then. I guess I’m just sick of spending my weekends alone. What about you?”

“I’ve been searching for a relationship for a while. I’m interested in the idea of spending my future with someone, so when Azriel suggested a date with you, I jumped at the chance.” Rhys seemed to reconsider his words. “Not that I would be spending my future with you, necessarily.” He paused. “I mean—”

“No, I get it,” Feyre cut in, not wanting to hear any more of this. “I’m not the type of person you want to be in a serious relationship with.” She had known all along. Rhys was charming and handsome and smart and funny and there was no reason he would want to spend his life with her of all people.

Rhys’ eyes widened. “No, not at all!” he exclaimed. “That came out wrong. I was only trying to take it back so as not to pressure you. I didn’t know how much you’d be okay with hearing me tell you how interested I was in you after saying I’m looking for a relationship.”

Feyre blinked, surprised to find that it hadn’t been a dismissal. Surprised at more than that. “Oh.”

Rhys smiled, the first signs of nervousness shining through his calm demeanor. “I like you, Feyre. We’ve only been talking for fifteen minutes, and already I like you. And I’m not getting too ahead of myself by claiming you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Not nearly this soon; hell, I just met you. But I do think you should know what I’m looking for so we can end this before it goes too far. If you’re not ready for something like that, I mean.”

Feyre was stunned. Rhys not only liked her, but enough to tell her something like that?

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but I like you too,” she replied. And she meant it. Rhys was really nice, and very intriguing. She hadn’t considered what she wanted past a date. After all, she had been positive he would diss her by the end of it. But Feyre sure as hell wanted something with this man.

Rhys almost seemed surprised. “I’m not asking for commitment or anything like that. Certainly not on the first date. But maybe you can think over that later, and we can finish dinner now?”

Feyre smiled, still processing his words. “Okay.”

They dug in. There was less conversation than before, both because Feyre was too busy letting out content groans at the taste of the food and from the lingering awkwardness. But they did start talking more toward the end, Feyre snorting into her hand as she heard the end of some ridiculous story Rhys was telling her. By the time the waiter came over and let them know the restaurant was closing now, they’d returned to an animated conversation.

From everything to Rhys’ work as an architect to gossip about Azriel and Lucien to current events and old movies and bad jokes, it had crossed the discussion. Rhys was an exceptional conversationalist.

Rhys pulled out a wallet, but Feyre said, “We can split it.”

He glanced over. “I’ve got it, darling. Consider it my treat.”

Trying to suppress a shiver at the new nickname, Feyre said, “Really, I can help out.”

“Persistent, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll let you buy me coffee next time.”

Feyre knew he was teasing; there was no doubt he would refuse to let her pay next time. He seemed like the kind of guy to insist. Still, Feyre was more than satisfied with hearing that there would be a next time.

Disappointed with the fact they had to leave, but definitely pleased with how the date had gone, Feyre stood. Rhys walked Feyre out in silence, the latter surprised to find how long they’d been chatting. The restaurant was almost empty.

Feyre pulled her phone out of her purse.

“No ride, darling?” Rhys had raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“No, my friend dropped me off. He was worried I would flee if he didn’t actually bring me here himself.”

Rhys grinned. “Would you have fled?”

“Probably,” Feyre admitted.

“Let me drive you home. No expectations,” he added hastily at Feyre’s expression. “Just so you don’t have to wait out here. It’s getting cold.”

“Alright,” she agreed, very appreciative.

She’d sent Lucien a text and he had shot back a message letting her know he would be on the way. Feyre swiftly sent another text.

nvm rhys is dropping me off

Then she followed Rhys over to his car, laughing when he opened the door for her with a bow. Feyre wished she was the one driving; it would have been easier to keep her eyes off of him if she had something to focus on.

“Am I really that pretty?” So he’d noticed.

Feyre scowled. “Shut up.”

Rhys chuckled and glanced over, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I had a really nice time tonight, Feyre.”

“Me too,” she said.

The only words passed between them after that were directions on how to find Feyre’s apartment, fairly close to the restaurant. They were a street over when Feyre pulled a scrap of a receipt out of her purse, as well as a pen—Lucien often made fun of her having everything in her purse, but it was useful—and wrote down her number. They parked and Rhys looked over.

“So you don’t have to contact me through Lucien next time,” she clarified, handing him the paper.

Rhys smiled and put the paper in his pocket.

“Thank you for the ride, Rhys.”

He frowned mockingly. “What kind of person do you think I am, darling? Didn’t you know the good guys walk their dates to the door?”

Feyre laughed and mumbled something, getting out. Rhys stepped out of the car as well. But Feyre was starting to get nervous that Rhys was expecting something from her. Tamlin always had, after all.

They reached Feyre’s door and she stopped. But before she could say goodnight, Rhys seemed to realize why she was so anxious. He was too observant for his own good.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Feyre. I didn’t walk you here because I required anything of you.”

She flushed. “It’s not that I thought you would, exactly, I guess it just… been a while since I’ve met a nice guy.”

Rhys looked very sympathetic. “I understand. And for you, Feyre, I couldn’t care less if you wanted to drag me in your apartment and have your way with me now or wait a year to so much as kiss me. You’re worth it.”

There was no way Feyre’s face at all resembled a normal color. Or her ears. Or her neck. Gods, she was positively reeling.

“Really?”

“I had fun with you,” was all Rhys said.

Feyre barely noticed herself leaning closer. “Maybe a goodnight kiss wouldn’t be so bad.”

Rhys’ lips twitched and he assessed the sincerity of the statement. He leaned in slowly, giving Feyre every chance to back away, before planting his lips softly on hers.

Feyre melted into the kiss, obsessed with the soft feel of his mouth. It only last a few seconds, and Rhys’ touch remained featherlight. He pulled back, grinning.

“Goodnight, Feyre.”

She leaned against the wall for support. She was probably swooning. “Goodnight.”

One last smirk was all she got before he turned and walked down the hall.

Making it into her apartment, Feyre tried to process what had happened.

She’d met the man and made a fool of herself. Still, he had been nice and showed an interest in her. Then he had said he desired a serious relationship with someone, and she was a good candidate. There had been some more startled deer-like behavior on her part and some more suaveness from him. Then he had been super gentlemanly about not expecting her to sleep with him.

Basically, he was all Feyre could have wished for—and then some.

Feyre groaned loudly, throwing one of her flats at the wall. Then the other. She wasn’t sure why she was angry. Probably just because she’d been so ridiculous tonight. Or maybe it was the pent-up up hormones.

Feyre glanced at her phone, saw about a dozen messages from Lucien telling her to have fun and “be safe.” She threw her phone on the couch and grumbled about what a nosy little asshole her best friend was.

Then she slumped to the floor.

Feyre was going to spend the rest of her life mooning over Rhys and making a fool of herself, she already knew it. And she was going to love every second of it.

Oh, she was screwed.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen // @feysand-loml // @infernoqueen19 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @midsizewitch // @sleeping-and-books // @story-scribbler // @thebonecarver

#feysand #acotar #loving every second of it #my writing

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Burning The Midnight Oil (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Javier has been burning the candle at both ends. He just needs some rest. Luckily, you’ve got your husband covered.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: oh boy um. language, non sexual nudity, brief sexual jokes/innuendo, lots of talk of sleep deprivation bc that’s a plot point here, brief mentions of alcohol and guns (maybe once each), mostly talk of food/eating, eating meat/pork (Javier does, not reader) otherwise I’d say it’s fluffy for the most part

A/N: ☄️ anon, god bless your soul for this idea!! I really love it so I banged it out in one night and here we are!!

You haven’t seen your husband in days. You know he’s exhausted, only ever showing up at home when you’re off at work. It’s a terrible situation, the only contact you’ve had with him being at odd hours over the phone.

The DEA has been all hands on deck this week, requiring their men to be there at all times unless they’re at home and sleeping; even then, they only get about six hours off at a time, many of them too wired to sleep. Javier only gets to come home every other day, usually during the middle of the day. He’s been staying up for a dangerous amount of time, in your opinion, leaving you just about ready to find the heads of the cartel and beat their asses yourself.

During the work week, you can’t complain. You have no right to. You knew when you and Javier had eloped and married that the man’s job was a baggage you’d be forced to carry as a couple. You normally didn’t mind, but when it goes into the weekend, that’s when you get mad. Not just that you don’t get your husband at home with you, but that he doesn’t get to be home. He deserves it. Javier hardly relaxes during the weekends, and essentially does not relax on weeknights until he’s fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

Saturday found you running errands, expecting Javier home by midday at the very latest. Returning home with a pep in your step and finding no Javier there, your mood and smile fell instantly. It’s Saturday; your husband should be home. They should be letting them go home, you thought angrily as you took your anger out by chopping the vegetables to go into your dinner. Surely Javier will be home by dinnertime.

Nothing. 6 P.M., 7 P.M., no Javier, just a dinner growing cold and your heart sinking. You knew Javier had got his break yesterday, and had been in the apartment while you worked, but a slightly rumpled bed was the only evidence he was even there.

At 8, you walk to the phone and dial the DEA office, specifically Javier’s extension.

Your husband picks up and his voice wrecks your heart. “Peña,” he mumbles, his voice crackly. It sounds like his morning grumble after a long night of sleep next to you.

“Javi,” you coo, heart breaking. “Baby, when are you coming home?”

Javier perches on the edge of his desk, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “Fuck, cariño, I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I just woke up, I got an hour nap in the break room office. We have to keep going. We’re so close, I can tell.”

You understand his desperation, but you know exactly what he looks like now, a stubble growing thanks to his time away from home, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. His hair is probably messy and his shirt is probably all wrinkly; you’re absolutely certain he’s holding a mug of the sludgy black coffee the office brews. He’s most definitely the picture of exhaustion, and even though you can’t see him, you know your husband. He is a wreck. “I can let Saturday slide, but you’re coming home tomorrow, I don’t care how long. I need to see you and you need to be taken care of.” “I’m doing just fine,” Javier shakes his head and you can hear a flick of a lighter as he’s most likely lighting a cigarette.

“You’re not, and don’t try to pull that card with me. I know you. You’re a disaster; I can tell from your voice. You haven’t eaten and you haven’t slept and you can’t deny it. I want you home as soon as you can tomorrow, you got it? Don’t you even fucking dare try it, Javier Fernando Peña.”

The full name: ouch. He sighs and exhales the cigarette smoke, then takes a sip of his coffee before answering you. “God, I fucking love you,” he chuckles softly. “Okay.”

Another sign of Javier’s exhaustion: how easily he gives in. Javier is a stubborn man, but over your years together he’s learned that you’re just as hard to budge. When both of you are set, neither of you can be moved. Your sarcasm and wit and willpower was what drew him to you in the first place; Javier could never have a compliant, submitting partner. He’d be a mess. He needs you to ground him, he knew and still knows it. It’s why you’re married now.

“I love you too, handsome. Call me before you come home, okay baby? I want to be awake for you,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your voice is much warmer, less jagged and rough.

It’s the way you always get Javi, the thing that makes him melt the most: when you’re snapping one second and gentle the next. God, he fucking loves you. You understand him, you don’t question him when he comes home and doesn’t speak. You read him and then you hold him, and all of his fears dissipate with his calming breath. “Okay. I love you,” he repeats again, more earnest and purposeful. He wants you to know it; he worries you haven’t felt it in the past week. It’s also another sign of his exhaustion.

“I love you too, Javi,” you remind him as you chuckle and stand. “Don’t fall asleep on the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier groans and cracks his neck after hanging up, sliding the typewriter back to the beginning. Just a little longer, he tells himself, then he gets to come home to you.

The phone rings around 5 in the morning, waking you from a restless slumber. The sun is just starting to rise, making the sky lighter and colorful from its previous midnight blue. Knowing Javier would be calling, it was impossible for you to sleep fully, leaving you in a dozing state more similar to a daydream than to any form of REM.

“Hello?” You answer with a groggy voice, hoping it’s Javier. Who else could it be, at this hour on a Sunday morning?

“Hey, dulzura,” Javier sighs into the phone. “I’m packing up my shit now. We didn’t get Escobar, but we got one of his big guys late last night. They’re bringing in some Search Bloc guys and giving us tomorrow off.”

You nearly cry in relief at his words, making a noise between a sigh and a squeal, heavy and happy. Javier laughs softly at your noise of relief, allowing himself to smile. His vision is hazy from the lack of sleep, but he’ll be cognizant enough after this last cup of coffee kicks in. “Get your ass home, Javi,” you tell him with a voice just as sleepy as his own. “You got an ETA for me?”

There’s a moment of silence as he looks at his watch. “5:45.”

Your eyes haven’t even opened yet, and you finally let them as you look at the clock. That’s soon, really soon, and it makes your heart speed up a little as your body forces you awake. “Great. I’ll see you then. Drive safe. If you’re too tired-”

“Steve will not be driving,” he cuts you off with a grumble. It makes you giggle a little, his adamance that Steve could never possibly do something better than him, more competently.

“Just reminding you. I’ll see you,” you tell him and hang up before he can make another sarcastic comment.

He’s glad you hang up so fast. He doesn’t have the brain power for a classic witty retort.

Javier goes to unlock the apartment door about half an hour later, but finds that his keys aren’t necessary: you’ve left the door unlocked for him.

He’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone but you, but it really does happen: Javier’s eyes water as he walks inside to the smell of cooking, the stream of soft light through the kitchen window, the sound of soft Sunday morning music drifting from the radio.

You’re at the oven, cooking, and turn when you hear a noise, grinning to see Javier. “Hey, handsome,” you squeal and rush over, wrapping your arms around him.

Javier buries his face in your hair, throwing his arms back around you. You smell fresh and clean, so soft in the fluffy robe he bought you for your birthday a few months ago now. You’re surprised to feel warm water drip from his eyes to your neck, and you pull away with a frown, cupping his face. “Are you okay, love?” You ask, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He nods. “So tired,” he admits and swallows hard. “So glad I’m home. So lucky I have you.”

You have a feeling he doesn’t have the energy to kiss you. Instead, you press your forehead to his and squeeze him tight in your arms. “Okay. I cooked breakfast. You need it. Why don’t you go take a shower?” You ask, breaking away and rubbing his arms.

He shakes his head. “My arms feel like lead. I don’t know if I can even wash my hair,” he admits, his voice a low rumble from his chest. “Just let me sleep, baby.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” you offer, already unbuttoning his shirt and working it off of him purely for comfort. You know your way around your husband’s body by now. You could unbutton his shirts blind; in fact, you have. “Come on, cariño,” you murmur and pull him along to the bathroom by the side of an unbuttoned shirt.

Once in the bathroom, Javier blinks and squints at the bright vanity lights, overwhelmed. You turn on the shower, the bathroom filling with warmth as the water heats and steam fills the air. Even in his tired state, Javier loves to undress you. He tugs the belt from your fuzzy robe, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the counter. You then strip off your respective clothes, and you’re the first to step into the stream of the warm water.

Javi doesn’t have to say anything; you can tell his thoughts from your gaze. His eyes rake your body, taking in the sight of his most beloved person on the planet in all of your naked glory. He climbs in after you, and you grab a bar of soap and get to scrubbing, covering all of Javier’s body with the cucumber-scented suds. He leans his head back against the shower wall, loving your warm hands and the hot water. If he wasn’t standing, if his back wasn’t aching so hard, he’d fall asleep here and now. He’s never been more blissful.

You rinse his body then work his shampoo into his thick hair, your fingers scratching his scalp and massaging his head. “You’re the fucking best,” Javi mumbles sleepily. You just chuckle and work the soap into his hair, stripping it of the grime and cigarette smoke of the office, until he’s wiped clean, ready to start anew.

Later, you wash yourself and let Javier enjoy the hot stream of the water. He’s so zoned out you can’t even tell if he’s awake. You have to actually check. “Javi, baby?”

“Hm?” He mumbles

“Did you fall asleep on me?” You chuckle as you turn off the shower, which makes Javier frown at the loss of warmth.

“‘Course not,” he grumbles, taking the fluffy towel from you and wiping his face.

After the two of you have dressed in fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of your bed and wait for Javier to finish. He pulls a worn t-shirt over his head, then comes and sits next to you, kissing the side of your head. “You’re so good to me,” he mumbles into your temple.

He goes to flop back but you put an arm around him, catching him. “Excuse me, Agent. I made breakfast,” you chuckle and sneak a kiss from his lips, chuckling at the way his mustache is still a little damp. “When was the last time you ate?”

Javier stares off as he considers it. It takes a while for him to respond. You nod at that. “Exactly. Come on, I made breakfast just the way you like it.”

The food is still somewhat warm when you find your way to the kitchen. Javier loves the local cuisine, always has, but something about an American breakfast makes him weak at the knees. He sits at the kitchen counter and sighs as you hand him a plate of buttered toast. “There’s your appetizer,” you chuckle and head back to the stove. Half-cooked bacon, which you turned off when he came in, sits in a pan, and you turn it back on to finish. You crack a couple of eggs into another pan, making sure they sit just right so they’re the way Javi likes them: fried. You sprinkle them with salt and pepper, humming to the radio as you cook.

The sizzling bacon makes Javier’s stomach grumble. The toast isn’t even that warm anymore, but the carby goodness fills Javi’s mouth and suddenly he’s never felt so ravenous. The two pieces of buttered toast are devoured in a heartbeat.

Bringing him a mug, you pour some coffee and his favorite creamer in. “You’d better tip me later,” you tease him with a wink as you return to the stove, flipping the bacon and putting some onto a plate.

“I will tip you anything you want, I swear,” he murmurs before sipping at the ceramic mug, the warm coffee going down like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, warming him from the inside out. The A/C blasts in the apartment, making his dripping hair feel even colder.

In yet another pan, you start pouring the premade pancake mix you’d prepared before he got home. “All of this and the sun is barely up,” He muses, wandering to the other side of the counter and stealing a strip of bacon.

“Quit,” you whine and smack his hand, making the bacon fall back onto the plate. “Your order isn’t ready yet, sir. Stop harassing the cook.” When his arms wrap around you, your defenses fall. “Go sit down,” you say weakly as he kisses your neck.

At least he obeys. Javier sits in his chair and watches you intently, downing his coffee in a short amount of time.

Finally, the feast all comes together, and you present it to Javier on a large plate: bacon, fried eggs, fruit (which you know he won’t eat, but it’s worth a shot), and heart-shaped pancakes. “I wanted to make a pistol, but I’m not super artistic,” you chuckle as you refer to the fluffy cakes on the plate.

Javier shakes his head but smiles. “Thank you, dulzura,” he manages out before he digs in, devouring the plate at a breakneck speed. You’re content to watch, standing across from him. You go to refill his coffee and come back to find the pancakes completely gone.

It doesn’t take much time at all before the plate is wiped clean, the entire thing in Javier’s stomach. Food has never been the biggest concern for him; he skips meals often for work, and you suspect he hasn’t done much more than snack here or there over the past week. His eyes droop even further now that he has a full stomach, and it warms your heart. You’ve got your husband cleaned and fed; now all you need is one last step before you have your beloved Javi back.

“Alright, handsome,” you smile as you drape your arms across his shoulders. “Nap time.”

He can’t deny that. He stands, letting your arms fall off his shoulders. He pulls you around to his front and wraps his arms around you; you know what comes next in this routine. Your feet slide on top of his and Javier walks the two of you to the bedroom, you backwards and being led by him. Javier is not an overly affectionate man: kisses and sex, primarily, hugs if one of you really needs it. This is his one little act he insists on, since you don’t let him carry you.

As you waddle along, you kiss along Javier’s jaw, giving him all of the affection he missed out on in the past week. When you finally enter your bedroom, you stop as you feel the backs of your calves against the bed. You know this routine all too well. It’s usually reserved for when Javier can’t get his hands off of you, when you desperately need him on top of you, surrounding you, kissing your neck. “Wait,” you murmur and step off of his feet, going to pull back the covers.

You return to the end of the bed, standing on top of his feet again. “There,” you say with a grin, and Javi has no choice but to grin back then kiss you. “Okay, continue.”

Then your routine resumes: you fall backwards onto the bed and Javier falls on top of you. You both grunt with the impact but you smile, wrapping one arm around Javi while the other grabs the sheets and blankets and pulls them over the both of you.

Javi’s cheek is nestled against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes already shut. “Real cute. Get off of me now,” you tease and nudge his side.

His body beneath yours is all he’s needed, all he’s dreamt about while half-consciously dreaming on the apartment couch. He can feel your chest rise and fall, his head going with it. “No,” he simply mutters, his face squished against the skin encasing your beating heart. “M’comftrble.”

You can’t deny him that, you chuckle, your hands reaching down to entangle your fingers in his dark brown hair, nearly black from the dampness it holds. “Fine,” you sigh, whispering the word to him. “I love you so much, Javi. Missed you. Missed my man.”

“Missed you too, dulzura,” Javi mumbles back, but it’s clear he’s almost already out.

“How long were you up, minus that nap, Javi?” You ask.

He thinks on it for a minute, and you think he might’ve fallen asleep until he responds. “36.”

“Hours?” you exclaim quietly, massaging his scalp. “Baby.”

“I know. Had’ta.”

“Well, you can sleep as long as you need to now, love,” you murmur and kiss his forehead. He makes a soft noise of disapproval. “Just a nap. Wake me in like an hour.”

“Okay,” you lie, knowing you’ll let him sleep as long as his body needs it. “Rest now, baby.”

Javier nods and you exhale deeply, holding his head to your chest. He’s back now, your husband, and you know he’s safe, know he’s healthy and well taken-care of: you did it yourself. His breathing slows. You can feel it against your chest, the way the steady rise and fall becomes slower and slower and you know you’ve won when you hear a soft snore, his parted lips smashed against your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Javier lying on top of you and resting. It’s a comfort to have him pressed against you, to feel your husband’s body and know that he’s here. It’s even better to know he’s resting well, deeply, from the way he slumbers against your body. You intermittently kiss his head, continuing to rub his head in hopes it’ll loosen the tension he’ll surely have when he wakes.

About an hour passes, and you find yourself drowsier and drowsier as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. Scooting out from beneath Javier, you replace your chest with a pillow to support his face. Rolling him slightly to the side, you cuddle in behind him and spoon him, your arms around him.

The quiet Sunday morning is all too perfect. You drift off too, then wake up an hour or two later and proceed about your household chores. You burn some pretty candles, clean, listen to the radio.

Javier doesn’t wake until 10 P.M. that night, 15 hours after he fell asleep.

Some nap.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 19: Chou

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Heyo, it's that time. Update time! One more Lao chapter after this. I'm ready for more DRAMA tho, delicious drama. Hope you're all doing well! I'm going to be out of town from the 9-15 but you shouldn't notice my absence since I'm preparing stuff to post before then bwahaha. NEW stories soon? Yes. Lots of planning so far. Much love. Sorry this is all over the place LOL. Kung Lao makin you even more confused, my lawd. Update on Tuesday!

Part 18 Part 20 Chapter Index

You returned to the stone path where you found tables had been setup to share with the other guests. Food had been setup nearby buffet style for a fee. You paid, grabbed your plates, and then took your seats amongst the others in attendance. With the exception of a handful of friends on a trip, they were all couples. A woman with short-cropped hair and dark eyes waved at Kung Lao excitedly. Her significant other offered a smile, then turned back to his food, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Oh, great, Kung Lao had made friends that morning.

“We saved you a seat!” She said once you were within earshot.

“She saved us a seat, Kung Lao.” You spoke just for him to hear, faking a smile.

“That was nice.” He urged his free arm around your shoulder and you sighed. Fake date or affection. Probably fake date. Were you winning? What were the rules to this game? Kung Lao sat down and made room for you to sit between him and the stranger. “Y/N, this is Sayuri and her boyfriend Kioshi. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It sounded awkward. Good. This was going great.

“Nice to meet you.” You bowed your head politely but couldn’t have felt more forced. Sayuri didn’t seem to notice. You could smell plum wine in her glass. It was extremely potent. If Chen were there, she would have spiked your drink, you were certain. Thank god for small favors. The good news was that Kung Lao could talk about anything to anyone and so you didn’t have to. They talked and you thought about other things while pushing your food around on your plate. It looked good. Really good. But you weren’t very hungry.

Your thoughts lingered on that kiss. It had escalated so damn quickly and you’d lost track of everything else. Just when you thought you had things figured out, Kung Lao had thrown you for a loop. You weren’t sure you’d ever forget how much you’d felt like a flower, petals slowly opening up just for him. Ugh. You couldn’t think about it. Focus, Y/N, focus. Kung Lao was animatedly recalling some adventure he’d gotten into in China with Liu Kang. Occasionally he patted your shoulder or nudged you and mentioned you which you returned in kind or smiled to acknowledge. Had to play the part, you supposed.

From what you could tell, hiding places would be in short supply. Much of the caldera was empty and flat. You supposed that behind the entrance gate would work. You could make short work of those walls between the two of you. That would work and it was a much better thing to focus on than the deep ache inside of you when you thought about Kung Lao’s kiss and calling you his girlfriend. How were you going to erase the guilt of breaking into a Buddhist Temple and desecrating it? You didn’t feel good about it at all. Maybe the truth would still work.

It wasn’t like you had a choice at this point. Whatever was in that well you had to get so you would do what it took. Ugh, you were going to end up being arrested at this rate.

Then, Kung Lao was stealing a pepper off your plate with his chopsticks. “Hey!” You scolded him and Sayuri giggled next to you.

“That’s what you get for not paying attention to my stories.” He ate the pepper with a grin. Even the way he ate was attractive. How incredibly unfair.

“Listen, you talk a lot, Kung Lao.” You batted your eyelashes at him playfully and the others at the table laughed. Kung Lao was going to make a snide remark, but you picked up one of the pork buns from your plate and shoved it right into his mouth. He coughed and gagged on it and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he was. He took a bite of the bun and then set the rest of it on his plate but was smiling. “See. You talk too much. Going to choke on your food.”

“Jokes on you. I was going to steal that next.” Kung Lao took another purposeful bite out of it. Sayuri tapped your shoulder, cheeks red with drink and then she bowed politely. You had forgotten that most of the people there likely didn’t speak Chinese. You were kind of thankful for the language barrier.

“How long have you two been dating? Kioshi and I have been together for six months. This is our first big getaway together.” Sayuri smiled brightly and nudged Kioshi who slipped an arm around her proudly. Then he whispered something to her in Japanese before getting up and leaving her alone with you. She was sweet enough but you did not know how to answer that question. You and Kung Lao had not discussed any details about your cover. This was exactly why you hated lying. It was too messy. To keep up with the lie you had to keep lying and so things fell apart so easily. You had not thought this through.

“I… umm…”

Much to your surprise, Kung Lao slipped his arm around your waist and urged you to scoot closer to him. It took every single muscle in your body not to swat at him like you usually did. “We go way back.” He sounded natural. Effortless. “I’ve known her since she was… this high?” He used his other hand to gesture just above the height of the low table. He’d been awfully ready with that response.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! Childhood sweethearts? Did you know that you’d end up together even back then?”

“Umm…” You really were terrible at this but Kung Lao wasn’t. It made you wonder how much of this was actually a lie to him.

“We were like ten when we first started hanging out so I was just a dumb kid who didn’t understand any of that. I knew that I liked her but didn’t know what to do about it.” He shrugged and leaned close to your cheek as if to give you a kiss there and you leaned away and scrunched up your face so much that he instead laughed and buried his head against your shoulder.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” Sayuri giggled into her glass of plum wine. You turned to look at Kung Lao. He lifted his head and his eyes flitted back to yours.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“I am so terrible at this.” You were grateful for the language barrier more than ever.

Kioshi returned with a tray that held a familiar liquor bottle and small equally familiar glasses for sake. Your stomach dropped. “Drinks all around! New friends and the Autumn Festival.” He began to place the glasses in front of each of the guests.

“Oh, no, no…” You bowed and pushed the small cup away in rejection. “No alcohol for me tonight.” This was starting to feel more and more like an actual date you’d gone on with Kung Lao without even realizing it. It was hitting all the notes. Cute trip to a foreign place. Cute meal. Intimate conversation. You’d even made out a little. This was not supposed to be a pleasure trip. Also, and more importantly, you were not dating Kung Lao.

And you had kissed Liu Kang, so this was too complicated. No liquor! You could hear Chen in the back of your mind, telling you to drink, telling you to lower your inhibitions and just pick right up where you’d left off in the shrine.

“That’s probably for the best.” Kung Lao pushed his cup away too.

“Come on. Just one? For luck!” Sayuri pouted, pushing your cups back toward you.

“She won’t let it go until you do.” Kioshi chimed in. The rest of the occupants at the table were taking the cups gratefully with a bow as they were filled. It suddenly felt rude to turn down the drink so you took your cup back with a sigh. You supposed one drink would be fine. Then again, with the blood thinning problem, who knew? You’d be fine, you coached yourself. Kung Lao gave you a nervous look as though he were thinking the same thing. You were suddenly aware of how little you’d eaten. You picked up the last pork bun on your plate and ate it as quickly as you could. There. No more empty stomach.

Sayuri lifted her cup and the rest of the table did the same. So did you. The sake was hot and you took a sip of it and winced. Kung Lao downed his in one fast motion. He then set his cup aside, upside down so that no one would refill it. You were grateful for that. The last thing you needed was to be drunk while desecrating a Buddhist Temple. He continued his chatter amongst the others while you sipped until the sake was gone. Then you placed your cup next to his upside down. The sun had gone down, and the lanterns glowed a brilliant orange, illuminating the temple in warm light. You turned on the bench to face away from the table. Your cheeks were warm and the annoying overthinking had briefly stopped. At least it hadn’t taken you from zero to drunk.

Kung Lao turned to sit with you and with him, came the rest of the couples at the table. They gathered around in front of you and sat on the stone while swapping stories and histories. Some were schoolteachers, others were businessmen. Each came from an interesting and diverse background. You didn’t weigh in much. Your Japanese was just not good enough to keep up. The hum of conversation and the warmth of the sake were enough to make you sleepy.

“What about you, Kung Lao? What do you two do?” A stranger across the way asked. You didn’t remember introducing yourselves to these other people but you supposed that Kung Lao had captivated everyone’s attention. You had been more focused on why you were really there for the night. Kung Lao searched for the words to explain what it was he did. It was the first time that evening where he had struggled to come up with a lie. You decided to help him out with a little bit of truth.

“He’s a martial artist.” You patted him on the back and he forced a smile. You had done so purposely pretty hard. “And I teach martial arts.” You had. That wasn’t a lie. Immediately, people were gushing over you. “I just teach. He’s quite good.” You smiled at him, redirecting all of the attention back onto him. Sayuri leapt to her feet, wobbling with drink, excited.

“Oh! Oh! Show us something cool!” She grabbed your hand as though you had known each other far longer than an hour.

“No, no.” You laughed politely. “The sake went right to my head. I’ll pass.” You bowed. Much to your surprise, Kung Lao leaned closer to you.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine” You assured him. “But you should show off a little. You’re good at that.”

“I planned to. I need a partner but if you’re not feeling up to it.” He made another playful kissy face and you shoved him away, inciting more laughter. Kung Lao stood up, fingers brushing over the brim of his hat before he pulled it off and offered it to you to hold. You slipped it on top of your head instead. He patted the top of it. “I need a partner since Y/N won’t help me.” He spoke in Japanese as he walked into the sand below the stone path.

“Go! Kioshi!” Sayuri pushed her boyfriend to his feet but he looked incredibly nervous even if he did as he was asked. Kioshi bowed to Kung Lao after joining him in the sand.

“Now come at me.” He instructed and Kioshi did just that. Kung Lao grabbed his arm, twisted him back and then flipped him onto the sand, inciting a gasp from the crowd. But even as the man nearly struck the ground, Kung Lao crouched and stopped his momentum then helped him to his feet. Everyone applauded, and you offered him a slow, unimpressed clap. Kung Lao showed Kioshi how to do a few other moves then countered them. Poor Kioshi. He just wanted to impress Sayuri. You caught Kung Lao looking to you every so often and tried not to apply that exact thought to you. He knew you thought he was good. Right? He wasn’t showing off for you was he? Fake date or affection? You had no idea but you were pretty sure you were losing this game.

If he wanted to show off, you’d make him work. “Do a flip!” You yelled and Kung Lao looked to you as if to admonish you for putting him on the spot. Everyone else was chanting do a flip and you pointed to them as if he had no choice now. He rubbed his palms together then leapt back onto the stone walkway. He stepped to the edge of the stone and then instead of walking off, he flipped through the air, legs high above him before landing as if it were nothing at all. He really was a delight to watch. When he turned back around, he blew you a kiss and then pointed an accusatory finger at you. You covered your face with your hands as your cheeks turned red and Sayuri whistled almost directly in your ear.

This was a pretend date, you reminded yourself.

A pretend and very convincing date with Kung Lao.

It had felt so natural that you had to continuously remind yourself that it was pretend. Your face hurt from smiling and was red since he kept flirting with you even when he was just showing off something he had practiced his whole life. The crowd took over with simple requests and so he was preoccupied for a time and it gave you peace to recover from your embarrassment and for the sake to run its course.

When he was finished, the crowd politely applauded and thanked him for humoring them. You applauded with them and when he sat back down next to you, he sighed contentedly. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. The group had taken to talking amongst themselves again. Some discussed that the last bus would be coming to get them in the next hour or so.

Kung Lao turned to you and pulled up the hat on your head and tugged the strap free before gently tucking it beneath your chin. It was way looser on you and he tugged it with a smile to urge you a little closer. You averted your eyes but couldn’t hide your delight. “So, how’d I do? You didn’t seem too impressed.”

“You’re great Kung Lao, but you already knew that.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear it from you.” He took the hat from you and then slipped it back on his head. “Cute hat. I think I’ll steal it.” You watched the others chat and then Kung Lao stood and offered you his hand. “One last walk by the water?”

“Sure, I guess.” You sighed and took his hand before getting up. You were supposed to be discreet so that no one would notice you were missing when you hid. So much for that. Perhaps you would say goodbye in a moment and then find somewhere to hide until everyone else left. That would work. Kung Lao leapt off the stone path and offered you help down which you took. Then you let go of his hand walked closer to the water. Kung Lao didn’t follow you immediately, but you could feel his eyes following you.

Then he jogged to catch up with you. “Y/N?” You turned to face him, and he stopped in front of you. He took a purposeful step closer to you, denying you personal space. You were forced to tilt your gaze up to meet his.

“Yes?” You asked skeptically. He rested one hand on your hip, and you cocked a curious eyebrow as if to dare him to keep going. You would ten thousand percent pin his ass into the sand if you had to. He tilted your chin up and examined your face before letting his fingers brush down your jaw and over the side of your neck. His eyes followed the trail of his fingertips and you stiffened up but didn’t back down. He leaned ever closer and you very bravely, at least you thought it was brave, refused to turn away, even when his lips drew ever closer.

“…you’ve got something in your teeth,” he whispered with a grin. You laughed and smacked his hand away from your neck and then stepped back and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“I am going to knock you on your ass and throw you into that toxic lake if you keep that up.” You threatened, walking away from him.

“Well, that’s rude!” He caught up to you and so you shoved at him again with a laugh and kept walking while he stumbled in the sand. You heard him get closer again and so you turned to warn him that you were going to follow through on your threat but he grabbed your arm, pulled you close, and without any warning or pretense, his lips pressed against yours. He was still laughing and you could feel the reverberations of the sweet sound moving through your lips, down your throat and sending shivers down your spine.

It made you smile and as if they had a mind of their own, your lips betrayed you and kissed him back. He held you tight to steady you in the sand and then pushed a stray hair from your face, then urged you to tilt your head even further back as he opened his mouth wider to deepen the kiss, taking each moment greedily for his own. His lips still tasted like the damn pork bun that you’d shoved in his mouth and that made you laugh.

His arm slipped around you and his hand met the small of your back and pulled you tight against him. His warm body pressed against yours woke you from the romantic reverie he’d slipped you into.

“Nope,” you muttered against his lips and then pulled back, leaning away from him since his arm held you captive.

“Oh?” Eyes half-lidded, Kung Lao seemed confused as to why you’d stopped him. Your stomach dropped. That look in his eyes was killing you, something more than romance, closer to lust. Your stomach was doing flips again. Affection or fake date? This one was easy. “Sorry.” He very suddenly realized that it may have been inappropriate and pursed his lips while he searched for the inevitable elusive lie that he would feed you as an excuse for his behavior. “Got carried away.” That was not so much a lie this time.

“Sure you did. Because of all the people that we’ve lied to, right? Had to act the part of doting boyfriend? You came up with our origin story very quickly, by the way.”

“Oh?” He was again at a loss for words, very unlike him. He turned to look at where the others were still gathered on the stone path by the tables. “Oh! Yeah. The act. That thing. Right.”

“Wow,” you whispered but your brain was screaming. No words. Just screams. The panic was real. This was a mess. A huge mess. How had you slipped so naturally into these roles? There were no other words for it than a total and complete fucking mess. He let you go and then went on talking like nothing had happened. He tried to lead you along the sand again.

What were they going to do? What were you going to do? You couldn’t date them both! You had already kissed them both and felt terribly guilty about it. You even felt a little slutty which was never a word you would have used to describe yourself as much as Chen wished that you would.

Maybe slutty was too harsh a word. Your lips, at the very least, were very slutty.

Kung Lao was listing off potential places that you could hide while you waited for the monks to end their night. He’d managed to go back to being his normal self. You couldn’t turn that off so quickly. The rollercoaster was back and there was a huge drop just ahead. You had nothing to say, no input even when he asked you for it. You kept walking alongside him instead, the screaming in your head now mixed with chaotic laughter at the improbability of the situation. You had to make a choice eventually. But both of them were so different and your connection to them was even more so. You had to stop thinking about it. There was no solving this now.

“Did I make it weird?” His words finally slipped through all the screaming which stopped very suddenly.

“What? With your bad jokes and all the showing off?” You instantly found refuge in sarcasm. Oh god, you were so alike in some ways. Kung Lao cocked an eyebrow as if to say you knew exactly what he was referring to. “Oh. Oh, yeah, that kissing me thing you keep doing.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. That’s the thing.”

You huffed. Where to start? Most important of the things bothering you, you supposed. The truth. “I kissed Liu.” You were surprised by how confident you’d sounded. You hadn’t actually said it out loud before. “And I wanted to kiss him.”

Kung Lao did not seem surprised by this revelation. In fact, he seemed very unsurprised. “And did you want to kiss me?”

You stuttered because that was not the response that you’d expected. Wait. Did he already know? Were Liu Kang and Kung Lao gossiping about you? The screaming was back but this time it was angry. You pinched the bridge of your nose and then grunted in frustration and made to walk away. Kung Lao grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I suppose that I did.” Getting those words out was like pulling teeth. You didn’t know what anything meant. Everything was chaos and nothing mattered. “I can’t kiss you both.”

“I mean you did so you obviously can.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Do I?”

“It has to stop.”

“For you? Or for me? Or for Liu? You’re being very vague, Y/N.”

“Are you being purposely frustrating? For all of us, Lao.” You tapped his chest with each word and he laughed. “You have no idea how this is eating me up! I’m so confused. My heart hurts. No more. No more of it.” You weren’t sure how you were going to stand by this declaration when they just went for it so freely but damnit, you were frustrated.

“I guess that’s fair. Only sort of though. How come you get to decide? I’m part of this too.”

“Kung Lao, I swear.”

“Okay! Okay.” He avoided your gaze and his eyes were darting to the side. He was lying? About what?

“What? What’s that look?”

“Uh… ah… what look?”

“I thought you were a good liar, Lao! What’s going on with you?”

“I uh… nothing?” He looked so beyond guilty that you laughed in disbelief.

“Kung Lao? What did you do?”

“That list is way too long to go over right now. We’d be here all week and we have things to do.” He turned away.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“Why aren’t you mad, Lao? Aren’t you mad that I kissed your best friend? Hell, I kissed your brother and then also kissed you? Shouldn’t you be pissed? Why am I the one that’s angry?” Your voice was very high-pitched and he laughed at you again.

“What’s the point of being angry? I knew that you and Liu were getting close. Everyone knows. You’re obvious. I’m not stupid, Y/N. I just also decided not to give up.” He sighed but still avoided your eyes and kept checking to see if you were buying it or not. What the actual hell?

“I don’t know what you’re lying about or why you’re lying but I know that you’re lying, Lao. And I know that it’s something important.”

“We have so much to do, Y/N. You’re being crazy. Maybe I will stop kissing you.” He teased and you smacked his arm and gasped. He wasn’t taking you seriously! You took calming deep breaths. Now what were you supposed to do? That hadn’t gone at allhow you’d expected it to. It hadn’t helped you get any closer to a decision. It had only further confused you!

“Of course you will. Because I told you to stop.” You mocked him and he looped his arm with yours. “Let’s go say goodbye to these strangers before I really do push you into the lake and just yell about what a big liar you are.”

“As much as I would love to see that, it’s probably the wrong time to make a display of ourselves.”

“Says the man who has done nothing but make a display of himself all damn day.”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining. You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“No one can stop you, Kung Lao. You’ve made that incredibly clear.” You walked with him back to where the others were gathered. Kung Lao was then his usual charming self, chatting and telling the others that you had to go and had called a taxi to pick you up. You did your absolute best not to roll your eyes but you were seething. Why had you thought telling him would change anything? You supposed that you’d expected him to be angry that you had kissed him after also kissing Liu and would tell you to make a choice. But he hadn’t. Why? Was he afraid that you would choose Liu over him? He didn’t seem afraid of what came next like you were. In fact, he seemed like he wanted to drag this out. You were uncomfortable but you decided, in a breath, to let it go.

Whatever he was hiding would be revealed eventually and when it did, you would call him out on it and gladly. And you would kiss whoever you damn well pleased. For now, you just had to keep your head on straight and focus on the task at hand.

He’d kissed you like it was no big deal. The audacity of this man!

You waved at the others and together you walked to where you’d met the bus. Then you snuck around the gate surrounding the shrine and found a place hidden behind a series of rocks to wait and hide. It was what made the most sense. There was nowhere else to hide without being spotted with so many guests still remaining. As far as you had seen, there were no security cameras.

“You still mad?” He whispered after an hour had passed.

“Confused. Not mad.”

“Don’t be confused, Y/N.”

“Okay. Still a little mad. Almost snapped at you again.”

He chuckled and you pouted. He urged his arm around your shoulder and hugged you close. You were still a little mad but his hugs did feel nice. Comforting even. You were so drained. You hadn’t been prepared for the emotional toll this was taking on you. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t even know what you’re sorry for so don’t waste your breath.” You swatted his arm and he swatted your hand back. “I’m confused. That’s all.”

“Clearly. Look, I’m not mad at you. I don’t like that you kissed Liu but you’re figuring things out. That’s fine.”

“But Liu…”

“I can’t say that Liu won’t be mad about it but I mean, maybe that will make him seem less appealing.” He grinned and you groaned in annoyance and smacked his arm again. “It’ll all work out, Y/N.”

“It’ll all work out, Y/N.” You mimicked him and he laughed again. “I can’t believe that I have to sit stewing over this next to you, with your arms around me while we wait to break in there. God, I need something to punch.”

“This has been fun.” Kung Lao decided while trying not to laugh. Fun? You huffed again and then leaned your head back against the stone and closed your eyes. You had to stop the racing thoughts and find a way to be okay with what had just happened. Time would help, you decided.

And it did.

You fell asleep.

#kung lao #kung lao x reader #mk kung lao #max huang #kung lao/you #kung lao x you #liu kang x reader #fanfiction #angst #drama #romance #fanfic #ludi lin #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie

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thisbeatchachinglikemoney · 4 years

Text

Burn It

Part 3 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Summary: Yoongi and Y/N are getting used to living together and being each others soulmates. Y/N helps Yoongi get through him being kicked out of the BTS dorm, and Yoongi helps Y/N tackle her trauma from the past. When the pair go out shopping, they bump into some people they really don’t want to meet...

Warnings: Angst, mentions of self-harm and abuse, Taehyung being a dick to Yoongi.

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup, @lindsayjoy444

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Y/N POV:

Yoongi looked upset. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a bag hanging off his shoulder while he leant against the door jamb, and his face was full of thoughts. He looked slightly broken. I slowly walked over to him.

“Are you okay?” I asked, making him look at me. He shook his head before dropping his bag to the floor. “What happened?” I asked. I knew he had to go back to the studio, so something must have happened there.

“They kicked me out of the dorm.” He said, his voice emotionless. “I thought that after everything, they would understand this. That they would understand you.” Ah, so it was to do with me. He must have told them what happened, but I was confused as to why it would affect them so much, unless...

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked carefully.

“I don’t know...” He said, sighing slightly. This was a Yoongi thing - he would sometimes hide his emotions from everyone.

“If you’re upset, you need to talk about it. You can trust me. I have literally no one to tell about anything you say.” I said, reaching out and stroking his arm. He didn’t flinch away from my touch, which was unusual for me. “I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me about why you’re upset, I’ll tell you why I was in the park. Okay?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Okay.” Yoongi nodded, his voice slightly husky. He took hold of my hand and led me to the living room where he sat down on the sofa and pulled me down next to him, making me yelp in surprise. “Sorry.” He said, fiddling with his thumbs. “So, erm, me and the rest of the members are all in a relationship together.” He began. “It started with me and Taehyung, and the others joined one by one. Today, when I went back, I told Tae about me finding you, and he got angry. He said I should reject you.” He looked at me. I blinked at him, scared. Was he going to reject me as his soulmate? Did he want to put me through that pain? “But I don’t ever want to do that to you. I can’t do that to you. When I said that to Tae, he got really annoyed and left the building. I then told everyone else and-” His voice hitched in his throat as a tear rolled down his cheek. “And Namjoon kicked me out of the dorm until I figured out who I wanted to be with.”

“Yoongi, that’s awful!” I gasped. How could they treat him like that? Yoongi worked so hard in that group. He deserved better than this. And it’s not his fault that he found his soulmate. They just needed to come around to the idea. It was then I got my idea. “Don’t you have a meet and greet this weekend?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it’s not going to go well. They all don’t want me to be around them!” Yoongi exclaimed.

“Yeah, but, if I go to the meet and greet, and they all meet me, and if they like me then maybe you don’t have to necessarily break up with them. Maybe I could just slot in?” I suggested. It was the best thing to do. No one got rejected, and no one got their heart broken. Best case scenario.

“That’s actually not a bad plan.” Yoongi said looking at me. His eyes flicked down to my lips as we continued to stare at each other, the tension building between us. He cleared his throat. “So, why were you in the park last night?”

“Ahh.” I smiled, knowing that this was coming. “I had to get away from my ex.” I said. “He wasn’t the nicest. He used to hit me and assault me verbally and physically.”

“Y/N...” Yoongi said, rubbing my arm.

“He took away everything I owned. He took my house, sold my car, pushed all my friends away. The only person I was allowed contact with was my mother, and that was always supervised. He controlled me.”

“That’s horrible. No one should ever have to go through that. I’ll protect you, I promise. If I have to, I will hire a bodyguard for you. Anything to keep you safe.” He promised. I was surprised. We had only just met, but he wants to look after me. That was something new.

“Thank you Yoongi.” I said softly. He smiled at me and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “For everything, seriously.”

“You’re my soulmate, Y/N, what did you expect me to do?” He looked me in the eye. My lips parted in surprise as we held eye contact. He leaned forward slightly and our lips connected. His were soft and pillowy, and he was a good kisser. I knew mine were quite rough and chapped - I didn’t have a lip balm on me, so maybe he would let me borrow one of his, or we could go shopping. My heart rate sped up as the kiss continued. One of my idols was kissing me. I would have never imagined it. We pulled away slowly.

“Wow.” I gasped, reaching up and touching my lips. Yoongi laughed and pulled me close to him.

“Cute.” He murmured, stroking my arm.

That night Yoongi was making dinner while I tidied up a bit. We had ended up making cookies to cheer him up, which might have had a bit of a food fight, and then some making out in the middle. I had a quick shower, washing out all the flour and egg from my hair, before changing into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I had to cover my cuts on my wrists. I saw them in the shower and they were very noticeable; the red stood out starkly against my skin.

I walked out of my room, tying my hair up in a bun. My nose was instantly filled with the smell of frying pork and black bean sauce. He was making jjangmyeon. I made my way into the kitchen and sat on the counter.

“It smells nice.” I said as Yoongi stirred the sauce a bit more. He hummed as he put the water to boil for the noodles. “Can I help with something?” I asked.

He lifted the lid of the wok and took a bit of the sauce on a spoon. “Taste please.” He held it up to my mouth. I ate the sauce. It tasted really good. Not too salty, the right amount of water.

“Mmmm!” I moaned in delight, making him look at me in shock and blush. I giggled at his reaction. “Sorry.” I covered my face in embarrassment. “You’re a good cook, Yoongi.”

He smiled and turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce around some more to make sure it doesn’t burn. “Thank you.” He said, reaching over to turn off the heat under the pans. His hand brushed my thigh, making me shiver slightly. His hands were huge and veiny. “Can you pass me two bowls?” I hopped off the counter and looked around, unsure of where to get them from. “Oh, um, middle shelf on the right hand cupboard.” He said, pointing. I nodded and leaned up, grabbing hold of the bowls, standing on my tiptoes.

“Here you go.” I said, handing him the bowls. “Do you want chopsticks as well?” I asked. He nodded. Now these I knew where they were. He had them in a fancy clear container on top of the counter. He nodded and I grabbed two pairs, handing them to him.

“Thank you, jagiya.” He said, making me freeze. No one had ever called me that before. “Oh, sorry, I-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just no one has ever called me that before.” I replied, reassuring him.

He set down his serving spoon. “Seriously?” He asked. I nodded.

“Abusive ex, remember?” I smiled slightly.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He said. “Okay, do you want to eat at the table or shall we watch a movie while eating?” He suggested.

“Watch a movie?” I requested, making him nod.

“Grab your food then, jagiya.” I blushed, making him chuckle. “That’s your nickname now. That, and princess, and baby, and baby girl.” He began listing off more, making me giggle.

“So what do I call you?” I asked as he carried our bowls in to the living room. He placed them down on the glass surface of the coffee table. He grabbed two of the decorative pillows from the couch and placed them on the floor. I sat on one and he sat on the other.

“Hmm, well.” He smirked staring at me. “I am older than you, so oppa would be the most logical choice. But if you want other options then whatever you want.” He shrugged.

“Noted, oppa.” I said, looking sideways at him before picking up my chopsticks and stirring around the noodles and sauce to combine them before taking a bite. “God, Yoongi, this is so good!” I sighed loving the taste of the sauce combined with the noodles and the pork.

“Thank you.” Yoongi blushed slightly. “I used to make it all the time for the boys - it’s my mother’s recipe.” His face fell slightly as he said this, making me bite my lip in sympathy as I thought of what to say to him.

“It will all work out, I promise.” I reassured him, rubbing his arm gently. He leaned slightly into the gesture as he took another mouthful of noodles.

“But in the meantime...” He pulled out his phone and held it to take a selca with me. “Let’s let ARMY know about you and me. Smile, jagiya.” I smiled at the phone as he snapped the picture before posting it on Weverse. My phone buzzed with the notification, making him chuckle. “Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

Yoongi POV:

I hummed as I stretched, waking myself up. I looked over to the other side of my bed and saw Y/N curled up by the edge of the bed. That must have been due to her PTSD over her past relationship. I shuffled under the blankets as I turned around so I was facing her before reaching out a hand and shaking her slightly.

“Y/N, princess.” I said, my voice husky from sleep. She whined and tried to move away from me. “Baby, come on you need to get up. We’re going shopping today.” We had decided that while she did have clothes, they were all worse for wear, so I was going to treat my princess to a new wardrobe. I was going to the usual shopping centre that the boys and I would go to. We normally had it to ourselves on Fridays so we could buy anything we needed.

“Can we get mochi?” She asked, her eyes still closed. There was a piece of hair flung across her face.

“Of course. Are you feeling better after last night?” I asked. She had fallen asleep in the guest bedroom, but she had had a nightmare about her ex, resulting in her screaming in her sleep, so I told her she could sleep with me so she would feel calm and safe. “Did you manage to sleep?”

She opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the light that came through the gap in the curtains. Even with her hair a mess and no make up on, she was still beautiful. “Yeah. I had no nightmares at all while I was in here.” She nodded. “And I feel better.” She rolled over to face me so she was on her side rather than her back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome jagi.” I said, stroking her cheek. “If you go shower and get dressed, I’ll start breakfast?” I suggested.

“Pancake?” She asked, smiling gently. “And dalgona coffee?”

“Of course.” I nodded

“Thank you, Yoonie.” She sat up and stretched, her sleeves slipping down her arms slightly. I caught sight of some scars, which gave me a slight bad feeling.

“Baby, can I see your wrists?” I asked carefully, knowing that if it was what I thought it was, she would become very defensive about it. She looked pensive, her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed.

“Yoongi, I-” She said as I reached out and carefully pushed up her sleeves.

“Baby...” I saw her wrists were littered with red lines, some more fresh than others.

“I haven’t since I’ve been here, I swear.” She said. “It was a coping mechanism with him.” I ran my thumb gently over her wrists, feeling the raised lines on her skin. “Yoongi, I promise, I haven’t since I’ve been here.”

“I believe you baby, but why?” I asked. “What made you stop?” The look on her face broke my heart. She looked like she had been through so much. She sniffed and took a shaky breath.

“He told me to do it. That I deserved it.” She said, tears forming in her eyes. “He said that if I continued to do it deeper and deeper than maybe I might end it all and what a perfect world that would be.”

My heart stopped. How could anyone do this to her? I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier at this ex, but I didn’t want to let it show. It would make it even worse for her, and that was something we did not want to happen. I kissed her wrist gently.

“I stopped because of you. You got me out of that situation and you make me feel safe.” She said. “If I’m being honest, I wasn’t sure how you would take it, I mean one of BTS’s big things are loving yourself and clearly I don’t. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Princess you could never ever disappoint me. You are so strong and resilient and you have become such a beautiful person, both inside and out.” I said, pulling her in for a hug. “Now,” I leaned forward and pecked her lips. “We are going to have a day full of fun, starting with your pancakes and dalgona coffee. Sound good?” She nodded and smiled as I wiped away her tears, her Y/E/C shining.

She disappeared into the bathroom as I slid out of bed and made my way into the kitchen. I moved my shoulder around; it was slightly stiff and painful this morning, but nothing I couldn’t manage.

I began to make everything. While the pancakes were frying, I got started on the coffee. Y/N appeared in the doorway, her Y/H/L hair dripping on the exposed skin from her shirt. I smiled when I realised that it was my shirt. It reached mid thigh on her, making me stare at her bare legs and exposed collarbones.

She blushed when she saw me staring. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to wear so I grabbed the first thing I saw.”

“It’s fine, jagiya.” I said. “You look better in it than me.” She giggled and walked over to me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her lips gently. She hummed gently, tucking her head under my chin.

“Yoonie oppa.” She said quietly. I hummed in response. “I think the pancakes are burning.” She giggled, making me jump away from her and take them off the heat. They were a slightly darker brown than usual, but still edible. “That one can be yours.” She giggled, making me scowl at her playfully. “How about I do the coffee and you try not to burn the next pancake.”

“Sounds like a deal, princess.” I agreed, handing her the small whisk so she could do the coffee. She thanked me and began to whisk the coffee as I poured the remaining mixture into the pan.

“Yoon, how does this taste?” She held up a spoon with some of the whipped coffee on it. I tasted it. The perfect amount of coffee. “Good?”

“Amazing.” I replied before turning back to flip the pancake. It was a perfect golden brown. “Pick what toppings you want. I’ll just have sugar and lemon.” I said, making her turn to the fridge and pull out some chocolate sauce and strawberries.

I plated the pancake and carried it to the island in the middle of the kitchen. She sat down, holding both cups of coffee. She pushed mine over to me before she started to eat.

“So where do you want to go today?” I asked. “I’m buying you a new phone and changing your number so that ex of yours can’t contact you.”

“Yoongi, you don’t have to-” She started but I interrupted her.

“No, I want you to be safe.” I said. “Anyway, do you want new clothes, new shoes? What?”

“I think I need new everything to be honest.” She admitted. “All my clothes are beginning to fall apart.”

“Okay, we’ll buy you some new outfits today, but we can order you more if you need.” I said, finishing up my pancake. “Do you want makeup?”

“I need makeup.” She said, taking a bite of a strawberry.

“No you don’t.” I said. “But if you want it then we’ll buy you some of the best.”

“Yoongi, you don’t have to spend your money on me. I’ll pay you back.” She said.

“No, you won’t. What’s mine is yours.” I said firmly. “Now finish up and get that ass of yours ready to go.”

---------------

We had been at the mall for a few hours now. Y/N was happily snacking on some mochi as we made our way to the next store - Victoria’s Secret.

“Hi, welcome to the store, how can I help you today?” A red-haired woman asked. Y/N turned to me and handed me her mochi.

“Can you wait out here please? I’m not entirely comfortable with... you know...” She trailed off, playing with her fingers.

“Of course, baby. I’ll wait here, okay? Mind if I have some of these?” I asked as the sales assistant began to lead her away.

“Go for it!” She yelled over her shoulder as the assistant began showing her panties and bras. I began looking through, picking ones mentally that I liked. There was a light pink set that I loved. A pang of sadness shot through me when I realised I was picking them out for Taehyung. I put the set back and leaned against a wall, waiting for her while I scrolled through my phone.

I jumped when I heard footsteps outside the shop. It was a Friday so the shopping centre was closed to the general public, so it wasn’t like there would be randomers walking around. My heart rate picked up. What if it was a sasaeng? I heard excited chatter and a squeal of happiness which I recognised instantly. Tae. They must have gone shopping now. There was nowhere for me to go as there was only one exit and entrance, and it wasn’t like I could blend in with the crowd.

My heart broke slightly when I heard their laughs and shouts of happiness. Nice to know they were having fun without me. I busied myself with my phone before looking over to the changing rooms. I heard Y/N gasp happily, making me smile. The doorbell to the shop rang, indicating someone had just entered the shop. Why now? I didn’t want to have this confrontation here. Not in front of Y/N.

I smiled slightly as I saw Taehyung move from rack to rack, picking up items that caught his eye and showing them to Hoseok and Namjoon, who had come in with him. Taehyung looked up and we locked eyes. His smile dropped from his face, being replaced with a scowl.

I looked back to my phone, making it a point that I didn’t want to talk to them. I could hear them whispering to each other, their hushed tones being too quiet for me to properly hear them.

“Hyung, what are you doing here?” Namjoon asked, making his way over to me.

“Y/N needed some new stuff.” I said, not looking at him. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you owned this shop as well.”

“Yoongi, there is no-” Namjoon began.

“No, you’ve said enough Namjoon. You spoke your true feelings.” I said shortly, glancing up at him, looking unimpressed.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did. You said your true feelings. I don’t want people to lie to me. You said the truth, no matter who it hurt.” I said.

“Hyung please, I’m sorry.” Namjoon said. “Please just come back to us.”

“No.” I said, finding it harder and harder to keep my voice steady. “You’ve said what you said. It’s clear I’m not welcome, I mean look at them!” I gestured over to Hoseok and Taehyung. “Normally Taehyung would be here, hanging onto me, listening to my every word, demanding kisses and affection, and now look at him. He doesn’t want to come near me!”

“Yoongi, that’s not true. They both love you.” Namjoon argued.

“Yeah, they’re showing it so well.” I said sarcastically. “He is glaring at me. That’s definitely a sign of love. None of this is my fault, Namjoon! I can’t control who my soulmate is or when I meet her!” I knew Y/N would most likely be able to hear me now, but I silently prayed that she couldn’t.

“TaeTae, Hobi, come here.” Namjoon said, gesturing them over. Taehyung looked reluctant.

“Why are you here?” Taehyung asked, his voice angry.

“Y/N needed some new stuff.” I replied.

“I knew she was a money stealing whore.” Taehyung scoffed. “Just reject her! She’s going to steal your money and then reject you!”

“No she’s not. You know what, Kim Taehyung, maybe it’s a good idea that I’m not staying at the dorm anymore. And maybe you should get to know someone before you decide to make a decision for them.” I spat.

“Yoongi!” I heard Y/N call from the changing rooms.

“Yes, baby?” I called back.

“I need your opinion on something!” She shouted back.

“Coming, princess.” I turned back to Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung. “Now I’m going to go where I am wanted and needed. I’ll see you for the meet and greet on Saturday.” I left them standing there. “What’s wrong, jagiya?”

“I just needed to get you out of there. You sounded upset.” She said, peeking around the curtain. She glanced over at where the trio was stood, shaking her head as she saw them glaring over at us. “They seem annoyed.”

“They’ll get over it.” I shrugged. “Have you picked some you like?” She nodded.

“But you can’t see them.” She teased. “But here are the options.” She passed them to me through the curtain.

“Baby, you’re going to look so pretty.” I said, looking through them. “Do they all fit right, they’re all comfortable?”

“Yesssss.” She said. There was rustling as she got changed. She had decided to wear my sweatshirt over her clothes today, which I loved. She pulled back the curtain, leaning up to peck my lips. “Are they watching?” She whispered against my mouth.

I glanced over. “Yeah.” I whispered back, making her giggle and kiss me again. “Are you sure they’re all comfortable?”

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m sure.” She said, playfully rolling her eyes. “Come on, let’s go.” She took her mochi back from me. “And thanks for holding onto these for me.”

We walked to the cash register, ignoring the burning stares of the trio as we walked away.

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #Poly BTS #btspolyau #bts poly #dom!yoongi #dom!namjoon #dom!hoseok #switch!jin #sub!taehyung #sub!jungkook #sub!jimin

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lumosinlove · 4 years

Text

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

part iii

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

Logan Tremblay escaped from Saint Clair Orphanage around one month ago—and he’s torn up with guilt about it and leaving Finn behind.

Dorcas realizes that Logan is getting his stash from the dangerous Carrow twins.

The two go off to Sirius and James’ party at Shack Beach.

Dorcas is surprised by Marlene, and we can see that there is some sort of rift between them about leaving this island and Dorcas selling Crucio.

Once the Gods show up at the party, Sirius is surprised to see Luke Deveaux and Remus Lupin among James’ company—he’s never seen them in The Hollow before. It startles Sirius into a memory of the last time he saw Remus, the last day he was at school.

Luke mistakes Saint and Sirius for Crucio dealers, insults Saint, and him and Sirius fight. We learn Luke’s dad is in jail and that Sirius’ old abusive home life is common knowledge.

As the party breaks up, we go further down to a dark part of the beach where Logan, having taken Crucio, sits with a phantom Finn, asking Finn why he made Logan leaving him behind. Leo finds Logan that way, exhausted and in tears, and takes Logan home with him.

The next morning with James, Remus, and Luke at Remus’ house, we learn that Luke’s dad is in jail for fraud. They go to breakfast at the Hogshead where Thomas works—and won’t sell Luke any Crucio. When James asks where he gets it, Thomas tells him to go talk to Dorcas or Kasey Winter, who is the other supplier and the boyfriend of Lily and Marlene’s friend, Natalie Darcy. James spots Lily out the window. Lily won’t talk to him, but James seems to want to and convinces Lily to meet him at Gryffindor club later.

Logan wakes up in Leo’s warm bed, goes to The Lion where Leo works, and learns that Leo’s father died in a storm—and that Leo won’t say anything more than that.

“Something’s wrong,” Lily said. “I can tell, Marls, come on.”

Marlene sighed, looking at Lily on the bedspread and kicking her door shut behind her. She set the popcorn on the bed between them before carefully climbing on herself to sit across from Lily.

“Well, what’s wrong with you?” Marlene said, popping a kernel into her mouth.

Lily tilted her head. “Deflecting.”

Marlene put her hands over Lily’s between them. “James is a really good guy, Lils. And you’ve liked each other since we were, what, eleven?”

Lily just shook her head. “I asked you first.”

Marlene just looked at her. “It’s…not big.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

Marlene hesitated, looking down. She took a deep breath. “I got into college.”

Lily blinked. “Not big? Marlene! Congratulations!”

“And…” Marlene sighed again. “I haven’t told Dorcas.”

“Well,” Lily began. “Well—well, why not?”

“Because that’s not how she wants to leave this place,” Marlene said, picking at a stray thread. “Because she wants to just…run free. I don’t really understand what she thinks is going to happen, no matter how much money we have, I just…I know she doesn’t exactly have college in mind.” Marlene looked back at Lily. “What I mean is, I know we haven’t talked about it.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “You should talk about it.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow right back. “Says the girl who’s been avoiding James for an entire month.”

Lily winced. “That’s—different. We’re not together. We just…”

“Had sex.”

Lily slapped a hand over her eyes. “Oh God. It was so good.”

That startled a laugh out of Marlene. “Then what, pray tell, is your issue?”

Lily let her hand fall. Her eyes looked sadder. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be happy about getting into college if you weren’t leaving anything behind?”

“What?”

Lily looked down at the popcorn.

“What, Lily Evans?” Marlene said, louder. “Jesus fucking—Lily.”

Lily sighed and got up. “I know. Look, I need to get to the Club for dinner. My parents—and James, I…” she sighed. “Fuck, we have a lot going on for what was suppose to be a peaceful summer.”

Marlene laughed, half-heartedly. “Yeah, we do.”

Leo was pulling the key out of the lock to The Lion when a voice spoke.

“Did your dad really die in a storm?”

He froze for a second, listening to the crickets singing in the falling darkness, then turned, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Logan was standing a few feet away.

“That’s really just a rude question,” Leo said. “Like, seriously.”

“I’m an orphan, I’m curious about people’s parents,” Logan said, then smiled a little, sarcastically mostly, at Leo’s face. “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t know what I am.”

“Why do you take Crucio?” Leo replied. He walked forward until he was face to face with Logan, looking down at him. “Why do you sell it?”

Logan’s stance shifted. “That’s really just a rude question.”

“Huh, is it?” Leo said. “Well.”

Leo watched Logan’s eyes track his hands as he pulled his backpack off.

“What are you doing?”

Leo pulled out a take-out bag, top rolled closed, and shoved it into Logan’s chest. “Let’s go home. You can eat while we walk, I already did.”

Leo stalked into the dark, not sure why he cared so much, and waiting for Logan to follow.

“What made you come back?” Leo asked and hoped he wasn’t now talking to himself.

“I didn’t know I was suppose to stay,” Logan replied. “I thought you just thought you were doing me a favor.”

“Pretty sure I was,” Leo glanced at him. He could see his necklace resting against his neck, over Leo’s old t-shirt.

“I’m fine.”

Leo shrugged. “Okay, you’re fine.”

They walked in silence, save for Logan crinkling the bag open and pulling out his dinner.

“Fuck,” Logan said, mouth full. “What is this?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile. “My own creation.”

“It’s—The Lion doesn’t have this on the menu.”

“No,” Leo agreed. “I said it was mine.”

“Don’t you want it on the menu?”

“I sort of maybe want to run The Lion one day,” Leo said. “Better to have some secret ammo.”

Logan scoffed. “Seriously?”

“It’s not so strange,” Leo said. “It’s a great place. It helps a lot of people—why are you looking at me like that?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who isn’t trying to get off this island.”

Leo took a breath and kept walking. Suddenly, he wanted to tell Logan. He didn’t know why.

“I can’t,” Leo said. “There’s too much here.”

“Like what? Some good food, beaches, and an orphanage? An island full of people who seem to hate each other?”

“My dad’s work was here,” Leo said before he could stop himself.

“Your dad’s work,” Logan repeated.

Leo didn’t look at him when he nodded. “The Voldemort.”

Logan opened his mouth as they climbed the porch steps to Leo’s house, but Leo held a finger to his lips.

“Not in front of my mom,” he whispered, and got out his keys.

“What are we doing with ourselves tonight, hot stuff?” Saint said.

Sirius looked over at him from his mattress and held up the bottle of whiskey. “What, we’re not doing something right now?”

“We are,” Saint looked at Sirius in the mirror, face framed by the dozens of golden necklaces hung around the vanity’s frame. They were a sharp contrast to the chipping paint and uneven legs. The mirror itself was a little warped. Saint clipped a third necklace around his neck. “But I was just asking.”

“Why don’t you steal silver?”

“I don’t like silver,” Saint smiled in the mirror, then spun himself around on the stool. “And I look good in gold.”

Sirius smiled, too, taking another sip of the whiskey. “Yes, you do.”

“Well, I’ll keep them on then,” Saint said. “If we’re staying in.”

Sirius snorted. “Why do you steal them if you can’t wear them anywhere?”

“Because,” Saint clasped a fourth. “I look good in gold.”

“Okay, okay,” Sirius laughed. “But we need food.”

Saint raised an eyebrow. “But we have whiskey.”

“I have work in the morning,” Sirius sighed, sitting up. “I can’t go to bed on whiskey.”

Saint looked at him in the mirror again. “Pulled pork from The Lion?”

Sirius nodded slowly, but he was watching as Saint began to take each necklace off. “Do you remember when I came to Grimmauld?”

Saint draped the gold carefully over the mirror. “You mean when you were eleven and scrawny?”

“And you were a dick and scrawny?”

Saint made a tisking sound with his teeth and tongue. “I was never scrawny. But I was a dick.”

“You are a dick,” Sirius laughed. “Sometimes.”

“Why are we reminiscing?”

“I just…” Sirius began. He looked around their room, at the dusk slanting through the cracks in the boards and the summer breeze through the open windows. “Are we going to be doing this when we’re seventy instead of seventeen?”

Saint’s shoulders stiffened. He turned slowly in his chair. His brown eyes were calm and studying.

“Doing what?” Saint asked.

Sirius put the bottle down and sat up, facing him. “Saint.”

“What else do you want to do?” Saint rose, head tilted.

“I think we should leave,” Sirius said, eyes following Saint’s until Saint was standing over him. “You’re in danger here. We both are.”

“The orphanage can’t get me if they can’t catch me,” Saint said. “And your parents don’t look for you.”

“Take your necklace off,” Sirius said.

Saint raised an eyebrow. “Go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Neither can I.”

Sirius shook his head. “We’re—it’s different.”

“Sirius…”

“The only thing stopping us is cash,” Sirius said. “Dorcas can lone something to us—”

“Oh? That’s the only thing stopping us?” Saint said. He dropped on knee on the bed, and then the other, seating himself in Sirius’ lap. “Then tell me something, Black.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and settled his hands on Saint’s hips. “Anything.”

Saint’s fingers wound themselves through Sirius’ hair, tilting his face up towards him. “What would we know about the rest of the world?”

Sirius leaned up and let Saint kiss him. It was slow and lingering.

“What do you know about anything except what’s right here,” Saint said into their next kiss. “Running around in this tiny little circle of land.”

“Saint…”

Saint pushed Sirius onto his back, pinning his hands above his head.

“I like it here,” Saint said. “We can predict what happens here.”

“And no one can leave?” Sirius said softly.

Saint’s expression flickered. Sirius knew he was prodding gently at a sore spot. They both were. It felt good sometimes, like a bruise or a paper cut. Neither of them wanted to lose anyone else.

Sirius relaxed against the mattress. He looked up at Saint quietly. “I’m not leaving.”

“You just said you should.”

“I said we should.”

Saint narrowed his eyes a little. “We should not talk about this.”

“You never want to talk about it,” Sirius said and closed his eyes when Saint bent to kiss his neck. “Saint, if you do get caught again, you said they don’t let you out. Not even when you age out.”

“Maybe it’s true. Maybe I’m right,” Saint tilted his head and looked back down at Sirius again. “There were kids much older than I was and, well, I haven’t seen them around, have you?”

“Why?” Sirius asked. He sat up, holding Saint closer against him. “Do you know?”

“Maybe it’s all they know. Maybe they don’t want to leave.”

“So, then shouldn’t we—”

“No,” Saint cut him off. “They don’t let you out. Only I can do that. For myself. I want to be free. I do.”

“And are you?” Sirius said softly, pushing Saint’s hair back from his forehead. Saint closed his eyes, leaning into it.

Saint pressed his lips together and kept his eyes closed.

“Saint,” Sirius whispered.

“I don’t want to talk,” Saint whispered back. “I don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Sirius said. “Okay.”

Saint opened his eyes. They flit to Sirius’ mouth, then back to his eyes. “Can we?”

“Of course we can,” Sirius said, dipping his fingers lightly into Saint’s shorts. “We always can.”

Saint nodded softly. “Okay.”

Sirius pulled Saint towards him and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Saint’s bare back and Saint melted towards him. Their kisses were like they always were, frantic, a little playful. Saint traced Sirius’ lip with his tongue, fingers digging into his hair. Sometimes, this was just how they spoke to each other. Sirius pushed Saint’s thighs so that they straddled him more firmly.

“What do you want to do?” Sirius said, holding him closer.

“You know,” Saint breathed. He dragged his mouth down Sirius’ neck as Sirius pulled him down to the mattress.

Sirius remembered the first time they had done this. He also remembered when it hadn’t been an option, when they’d barely known each other and, besides Saint agreeing that Sirius could have one of Grimmauld’s rooms, hadn’t spoken. It had taken them a few months to so much as eat a meal together.

“I can feel you thinking,” Saint panted out as Sirius kissed his way down his chest. “Stop doing so much of that.”

“Maybe you should do more of it,” Sirius said, scraping his teeth against the muscles around Saint’s hip.

“No, thanks, sweetheart,” Saint sighed out, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

Sirius couldn’t help but smile a little as he unbuttoned Saint’s shorts. It was such a Saint thing to say that it warmed him, just as the familiar feel of his skin did.

Sirius knew that Saint, for all his acts and plays, felt more than anyone Sirius knew. Saint still grieved for the family that had abandoned him, and sometimes Sirius thought Saint even grieved for the family Sirius had known and lost, just out of proximity to them.

Sirius knew that Saint stole to steal back what had never been his. Sirius knew it didn’t work—and Sirius knew Saint know that, too.

Saint let out a shaky breath when Sirius took him into his mouth. He was filling fast and Sirius relished in it. This…this worked.

“I’d miss you,” Saint panted out. “If you went, I’d miss you.”

Sirius pulled off and sat back on his heels, hand going to rub himself through his shorts before he slipped out of them, tossing them to the floor.

“You seem to have heard something I never said,” Sirius fell back on top of Saint, catching himself at the last minute to hover above him, and pushing their cocks together. “I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

Saint just clutched Sirius closer, his next breath a moan as Sirius rolled his hips, a little sloppily, and slow.

“Stop thinking,” Saint said.

Sirius bent to kiss his neck, sucking blood to the surface of his skin. “You brought it up again.”

It was always the same with Saint. A much needed consistency. Saint’s hips knocked his, they fought each other for the upper hand, usually laughing until the slick slide of their cocks became the only feeling they could think of. Saint never held him as close when he came. He went soft and melted away against the mattress. Saint did, however, chase Sirius’ mouth, knowing that kissing brought Sirius over with him. Sirius pressed his hips down hard against Saint’s oversensitive, spent cock, the way Sirius knew he liked. Saint jolted, teeth biting down onto Sirius’ lip, making Sirius come in thick stripes between them. They dropped beside each other afterwards, shoulders pressed close. It was always the same, but Sirius always felt good after. Safe. Neither of them were leaving, and maybe that was a good thing.

“Fuck, you always make such a mess,” Saint laughed, staring down at his stomach. “At least this is your bed.”

Sirius just closed his eyes. The room smelled of sex now, and of the ocean. He was sweaty and wanted a swim. They had hours and hours until dawn, though. Sometimes the nights felt useless and too long.

“You like it,” Sirius said.

Saint curled onto his side with a sigh and kissed Sirius’ shoulder. “Dinner in an hour.”

James looked up from his coke and peanuts the moment Lily and her family entered the Gryffindor dining room.

“She’s here,” he said to Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke drawled, twisting a cherry stem between his fingers. “I can see that, Pots.”

“Shit,” James breathed. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Bet you fifty I can tie this with my tongue.”

James drank the last of his soda, crunching a few ice cubes. “That’s a stupid fucking bet.”

Luke shrugged. “Bet I can.”

“I have to go.”

“Dude,” Luke laughed a little. “She’s gotta have dinner first.”

James stood. “She can have dinner after. She promised we could talk. I need to know.” He looked back at Luke and his blackened eye. “Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for me here.”

Luke rolled his eyes, then looked at the bartender. “Olli, come on, man.” He pushed his own coke forward. “Just a little little bit of rum in this next one.”

Olli shook his head, smiling. “Deveaux. Your mom will kill me.”

“My mom doesn’t give a shit.”

James left the conversation behind, taking a few steps forward.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” James smiled, hands in his pockets. “Petunia. Lily.”

“James! Hi, sweetheart,” Mrs. Evans smiled. “Are your parents here?”

“Oh,” James looked behind him, then back at her, smiling and pushing his glasses up. “No. Just me.”

“And Luke,” Lily mumbled, eyes going behind him.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” James sighed, cursing himself. “And Luke.”

“Mom,” Lily said, glancing at Mrs. Evans and the rest of her family. “We’ll be right back, okay? I’ll meet you at the table.”

Mrs. Evans nodded. “Yeah, all right, honey. It’s buffet style tonight, do you want me to make you a plate?”

“No, I’ll make it,” Lily said, and looked at James, gesturing towards the open patio doors. “James.”

“Coming,” James said. “Cool.” He looked at Petunia, who looked skeptical, to Lily’s parents. “Bye. Thank you—or—bye.”

The night air was warm as Lily let him outside and down the stones towards the cupola and the sea. She didn’t look at him as they walked, and James was afraid to speak. He wanted this to go the way she wanted it to, even if he was desperate to know what was in her head. It had been such a good night. Had she really not felt the way he had?

Lily stopped only when the cupola stopped her tracks. The dark waves were gentle tonight.

“Okay,” Lily said. “Go ahead.”

James blinked. “That’s it?”

Lily turned and looked at him expectantly.

“Lils…” James said, then laughed a little, exasperated. “Lils, we had sex. And—I know it wasn’t just sex to you. I know because it wasn’t just sex for me. I…look, it’s fine if you don’t want to date, I’d never make you do anything, but I just…I don’t understand. I’m an all right guy and… and when I asked you, you seemed…”

“It’s not you,” Lily began then groaned, turning back towards the cupola’s railing. “Or—maybe it is. I…James, you…your family…they are this island.”

James stared at her back, perplexed. “What does that mean? Like—their money? What?”

He watched Lily’s shoulders slump. “It means I need to get out of here. This bubble, these people. These divides, these fucking neighborhoods.” She turned, her green eyes beautiful and determined. “It’s like we live in clockwork and I can’t stand it.”

James looked over her face. “What, so I’m all gears and cranks, and that’s it?”

“You’re one gear,” Lily said softly. “You’re part of it all. I know you go to The Hollow and stuff, you hang out with Sirius Black and…”

“You hang out with Dorcas,” James countered.

“That’s not—”

James took a step forward. “So, we both cross boundaries—”

“What boundaries?” Lily said, voice raised. “They don’t exist! That’s the clock part!”

“They exist here,” James said firmly. “And, Lils, whether you like it or not, we’re here right now, and so why not break something? Sirius is nice. He’s troubled, but he’s nice, and I like Sirius. I went to school with him for seven years and now he works for my parents, I’m not going to pretend he’s not there. I want to be his friend. Saint’s a little weird, but he’s fine. Dorcas and Marlene are great together. This is our island, why not do what we want?”

Lily shook her head. “This isn’t our island. This is an island.” She wrapped her hands around her arms in the night breeze. “And it’s a small one, and there’s an entire world out there.”

“Lily—”

She looked away from his face. “And I’m sorry, James, I—you know I like you, but I need to leave when we go to college and I need to leave with a fresh start. No clockwork.”

With that, she brushed by him. James stood there, frozen, listening to her sandals get softer as she walked down the path, back towards the bright lights of Gryffindor Club. James thought of her parents back that way. And then his own parents, no doubt arriving soon. Their beloved club. Their title of one of the oldest names on the island. He didn’t blame Lily for not wanting to carry that with her. Not really.

“No clockwork,” he said softly to himself, and sat down heavily one of the benches.

Saint came out of the Potter’s house with a glass of water for both of them with his eyes firmly telling Sirius to keep it cool. Sirius recognized that look from too many almost run-ins with the cops, or marine patrol.

“What?” Sirius said. He downed half of his glass in one go. The sun was high and hot against his bare back. He handed the glass back to Saint and leaned on the long pool cleaner. “De parler.”

“You’ll never guess who just arri-ived,” Saint sang softly. “Tweedle-hot and tweedle-hotter.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

“Black!” James called, jogging down the steps to the flat stones of the pool ground. “You guys don’t mind if we’re out here, do you? We’re gonna practice some shots on the rebounder.”

“We,” Saint muttered, bending to clear some leaves from the filter.

Remus and Luke came out of the house after him, all three in their swim trunks. Luke stared right at Sirius, eyes hard. Remus looked at him more softly.

“It’s your house, Potter,” Sirius said.

James shrugged. “I’m just asking.”

Sirius watched out of the corner of his eye as the three of them walked over to where the bundle of lacrosse sticks lay, along with a bucket of balls. Luke picked up one first, punching out the net of his stick. Sirius noticed that someone had wrapped his knuckles. Sirius’ own were bare and aching a little in the sun, the split on his lip, too. Luke glanced over at them again.

“How’s the face, Black?” Luke said across the pool, and whipped the lacrosse ball forward. It landed squarely in the center of the trampoline material before bouncing back for him to catch again.

Sirius looked at Luke’s black eye. “Fine.”

“What, had worse?” Luke asked.

“Oh-kay, my turn,” James said and nudged Luke out of the way and looked at him and Remus. “Wagers?”

“Thirty for ten out of twenty,” Remus said. “Each.”

Luke turned away from Sirius and Saint and scoffed. “Just thirty?”

Remus smiled, tilting his head. “For now.” He walked over to a speaker and plugged his phone in.

Sirius kept his head down, focusing on the pool and the music as they cleaned. He watched as they hurled the ball in hard arcs every time. They laughed, and argued over who got to choose the next song. Saint and him raked the pool clean.

“I hate this song,” Saint kept mumbling to him. “And this one. And this one.”

“You don’t know this song,” Sirius murmured back.

“It’s a new hate.”

“I need more water,” Sirius sighed, and handed the pole to Saint before turning towards the house.

“Wow,” he heard Saint call to the boys from behind him, and closed his eyes. “You guys are like hamsters on a wheel with that thing. Love this song, too.”

“Well, thank you, Saint,” James laughed. “That’s nice of you.”

The shade of the house was a relief and Sirius took a moment in the cool kitchen to take a breath. He hated this. He hated the way those guys made him feel. He hated himself for feeling the gnawing self-consciousness at all. He had a job to do. That was all. It didn’t matter that they didn’t, that they were out there tossing a ball and catching it again all day.

Sirius shook his head to himself and went to the cupboard, grabbing a glass and holding it against the water filter on the refrigerator.

He was watching it slowly fill up when a throat cleared from behind him. He looked up to see Remus standing there.

“Hi,” Remus said. He was breathing hard from their workout. He was eyeing Sirius carefully.

“We’re allowed to come in here for water,” Sirius said, and turned back to his almost filled glass. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“What? Oh—no, no, I wasn’t.”

Sirius took his glass away and stepped to the side. “It’s all yours.”

Remus was still a little opened mouthed, and he took his own glass to fill.

Sirius didn’t really want to leave the shade of the kitchen, and it seemed neither did Remus. They stood there, on opposite sides of the counter, drinking their water.

The Wolfsbane, Sirius’ mind was chanting. Ask.

“I wasn’t,” Remus said again. He glanced up at Sirius and took another drink.

Sirius nodded. He didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

“Lupin,” came Luke’s voice from outside. “Jesus fuck, hurry, it’s your shot and I’m about to take back my money.”

Remus set down his drained glass in the sink. “See you out there, Sirius.”

Sirius watched him go. The memory was back.

Are you okay? Sirius, right?

The sun felt good against the chill that the words brought.

“What was that?” Saint whispered to him.

Sirius shook his head. “What was what?”

“Are you guys almost done?” Luke said, crossing his arms over his chest. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat. “I sort of want to take a swim.”

“Well, what do you know,” Saint said. “There’s an entire ocean out there, Deveaux, and it’s all for you.”

Sirius, not wanting to fight again but recognizing it in Luke, said, “I clean this pool every other day. You can swim while we do it if you want.”

James thwacked Luke hard on the back of the head before cannonballing into the opposite side of the pool. He surfaced again to place his glasses on the side, then pushed off, floating on his back. Luke glared at Saint for another moment before sitting on the side and putting his feet in.

“Come on, Devs,” Remus said, and jumped in after James. He surfaced and floated over to wrap his hands around Luke’s ankles, tugging a little. “I still remember when your mom couldn’t get you out of the water for cake at my sixth birthday party. You know you want to.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, but then he was smiling, laughing a little. He swatted Remus’ hand and then dove into the water after him.

“Wow, it emotes,” Sirius said softly to Saint.

“Potentially,” Saint countered. “Okay, we’re done.”

They listened to the boys laugh as they put their equipment back into the pool house.

“Hey,” James said, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes. “You guys can come in if you want. That’s hot work.”

“We’re headed to Shack Beach with our boards,” Sirius said, flashing an awkward smile. “But thanks.”

“You surf?” Remus asked.

“No, Lupin,” Saint’s grin was sharper. “We just clean pools.”

Remus shut his mouth. Sirius shoved Saint.

“Yeah, we do,” Sirius said, looking at Remus. “Every morning.”

“Hey, you know what, Lupin,” Saint pointed a finger at him. “We see your boat sometimes—”

“We’ll see you guys later,” Sirius said firmly, giving Saint another push.

“Well,” Saint said over his shoulder. “Sirius sees your boat.”

“Oh,” Remus said, puzzled sounding. “I mean, yeah, I go out in the morning.”

Sirius turned. He couldn’t help it. “You go out?”

Remus nodded, treading water. “Yeah.”

Saint whistled. “Mystery solved.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth twice before nodding. “Okay. See you guys later.”

He heard Luke snort as they walked away. “That was weird.”

It was Remus.

They pushed through the Potter’s house and back to the driveway where Saint’s Jeep was waiting.

It was Remus out there.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Sirius groaned as they climbed onto the hot leather seats. “Saint, Jesus.”

“Mary,” Saint started the engine. “Joseph. Oh, I thought we were naming—”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“At least now you know. You can lust after a person, instead of a boat.”

“Drive.”

“It could be worse, you could be lusting after Lupin’s father.”

“Drive.”

“Tremblay, you’re back. I was wondering when we’d see you again.”

Logan looked down from the shiny crystal chandelier he was staring at, thinking about Finn. He wouldn’t need Felix today. He’d get to the orphanage before two, when they were let out into the courtyard for an hour.

His eyes found Alecto, who was smiling at him, if it could be called that. Every time his name came out of Alecto’s mouth, part of Logan wished that he was like some of the others that had been in the orphanage, like Finn—meaning without one.

“I’m back,” Logan said, standing. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

Alecto laughed. “Oh. He’s confident now.” She jogged down the rest of the grand staircase. “You weren’t like that a month ago.”

Logan slung his backpack off of his back and took out the cash he’d bundled. “Here.”

Alecto held out her palm for it, and Logan sighed but placed it there. She thumbed through the bills.

“This is all of it?” Alecto asked.

“Yes.”

Alecto reached out and gripped Logan’s chin, making him stare at her.

“Are you lying?” she said.

“You can count it,” Logan bit back, and shoved her away. He worked his jaw, sore from her grip.

She nodded, smiling. “All right, all right.”

The door to the left, framed in gold, opened as it always did. Logan caught Snape’s eye for a moment as he handed the bags of pink powder, rubber-banded together. Alecto took it from him, and Snape stepped back. A good soldier, Logan thought.

Alecto tossed it to Logan, who caught it against his chest.

“Sell it all,” Alecto said, watching Logan slip it into his pack. “Or don’t come back.”

“Fine,” Logan turned towards the door.

“I mean it,” Alecto said. “You think we don’t know what you’re doing in your free time?”

Logan froze. He felt his heart speed up, felt Alecto just behind him.

“How much do you think you owe us by now, Tremblay? With all the…free samples you’ve taken. I’m sure it was suppose to be the other way around, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that why you ended up here?”

Logan kept his eyes down.

“Or,” Alecto laughed. “I guess the real question is how badly you want to see that boy of yours again? And I mean really see him.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Logan grit out.

“Then remember that our deal doesn’t include your little freebies,” Alecto growled. “Now get out.”

Logan didn’t look back as he pushed out the door.

He waited until he was well out of sight of the Carrows’ manor before stopping in a narrow alley between houses. He dug his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he gasped aloud. His throat felt tight. Everything felt heavy. Logan scrubbed his fingers over his face before looking at his watch. It was 1:56. He needed to get to the orphanage.

Sometimes this island felt like a jungle, and sometimes it reminded Logan of the halls in Saint Clair. Salazar’s alleys were those hallways, only caked with grime. Saint Clair was the jungle in a rare clearing. Or maybe a clearing in a jungle. It made no sense, but there it was.

Logan looked from his crouch in the hedges of a nearby house as the door of the courtyard opened. Two o’clock on the nose. Two nuns came out, and then the first kid. They let the little ones out before the others, always. Logan watched the children grow taller, accompanied by some of the wards—not part of the Church, but older kids who were still there. Logan still didn’t know why. No one had ever said.

And then there he was.

“Finn,” Logan breathed, as if Finn could hear him. Even if he couldn’t hear him, Logan knew Finn would look for him. Already, Logan could see Finn glancing around outside the fence. He was holding a book. One of his tricks, Logan had learned. Logan had been too scared to come even close to the orphanage for the first week and a half, but then he had discovered that he could watch.

And then he had discovered Felix. Two Finns, one far, and one farther.

Finally, Finn found him.

“Finn,” Logan said again aloud. “Finn, Finn…”

Finn smiled, just a little, not too noticeable. He took his book and sat down against one of the benches. Opening it between two fingers, he held it on his lap, bowing his head a little to feign reading. Instead, he stared at Logan.

Logan's crouch dropped to his knees heavily. “Finn.”

Even from a distance, Logan could see Finn’s mouth move around silent words.

Hi, baby.

And then Finn’s eyes turned sad. He jerked his chin forward a little.

Go, he mouthed. Go.

“I miss you,” Logan said aloud. “I’ll get you out.”

Finn shook his head. Logan… he trailed off.

“I’m going to get you out,” Logan said, and turned before he had to watch Finn disappear inside again.

#warnings: mentions of drugs but no use; mention of past abuse but not graphic at all ;#relic keel #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #lumosinlove ocs #Luke deveaux #saint #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #James potter #lily evans #jily #dorlene #dorcas meadowes #Marlene mckinnon

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Ten // Zetsu

“So how are they doing?” Zetsu took a moment, to gather his thoughts before answering. Madara would call on him every so often to give updates on the members of the Akatsuki, their successes and failures, their personalities. He asked Obito the same questions, but in truth he trusted Zetsu’s observations a bit more. “The boy has a tendency to let emotion and attachment cloud his overall judgment,” Madara would tell him, over and over again. “I rely on you to give me the facts, and nothing else.” Madara is right in that Zetsu doesn’t have the same connection with the group that Obito seems to have; however, he’s had more fun and more amusement being around this eclectic gathering of souls than he has around anybody else in his long, long life. After his “visit” with Madara, he travels back through the ground to the Akatsuki hideout; just in time for his turn in the Mistletoe game.

Pein

Pein sighs as he approaches the plant-man. He had been hoping that he could avoid this altogether, but apparently his luck had run out. Nagato won’t admit this, because to admit weakness is a failure, but ... Zetsu creeps him out to catastrophic levels. Nagato has dealt with sub-human species before during his travels, but what even was Zetsu? A plant? A man-plant? A mythical creature, a result of an experiment gone wrong? Indeed, Zetsu looks like the type of creation that would step out of one of the traitor Orochimaru’s labs. “Good evening, Leader.” The Pein-body nods and steps closer, steeling himself did this. Zetsu smilles, and Nagato (through Pein) can see splotches of blood dotting the man(?)’s teeth. He must have just eaten, which is good ... not that he would have found the artificial Pein body to taste in anyway pleasant. He gives Zetsu a quick kiss on the forehead, struggling to keep the grimace off his face as he notices how cold, and clammy, and ... inhuman the skin. As he walks away, he could almost swear he can hear Zetsu chuckling to himself ... not that he’s willing to turn around and check for sure.

Konan

Konan’s heart drops when she sees how excited Zetsu looks to see her. He’s smiling and waving to her. “Konan-san! Konan-san!” Still, she can’t help but smile; the voice unmistakably belongs to White Zetsu, the decidedly more friendly (if you could call it that) of the dual-personality plant. When it had been Konan’s turn under the little green plant, Zetsu had refused to kiss her because White Zetsu had proclaimed he “wasn’t ready” and Black Zetsu had berated him for it. Things had changed, apparently, as evidenced by Zetsu reaching out and taking hold of her hands. “Be gentle with me; I’ve never kissed a woman before.” Konan nods, and then she reaches up with her small hands, cups Zetsu’s face, pulls him down to her level and kisses first his forehead, then both cheeks, then his nose, then his lips, softly. Zetsu is stunned: he never imagined his first on-the-lips kiss would be so ... pleasant. “T-thank you, Konan-san.” She nods and smiles, before walking away back to her room. As he watches her leave, he starts to talk to himself. “She smelled good.” “All humans do. It’s their blood.” “It wasn’t her blood; it was just her. Her skin. Her hair. She was —“ “The last thing we’re going to do is act like a fool over some human woman.” White Zetsu blushes; he doesn’t think he’s acting like “a fool” at all. Kissing Konan was just an interesting experience, that’s all. Another checkpoint on a long, looong list of interesting experiences.

Kakuzu

“This is it, right? This is the last one? Thank God; now we can all go back to doing more productive things with our time.” Zetsu blinks when Kakuzu says that; out of all the members of this group, THIS man was the most no-nonsense, serious guy Zetsu had ever met. He always had his eye on the bottom line, and was more focused on money than Zetsu would have believed possible. About a year back he had approached Zetsu with his idea to start a vegetable garden in order to cut back on market cost of food, to which Zetsu agreed. Taking care of plants was second nature to him; what he DIDN’T expect was that, quite often, Kakuzu would join him in the garden. The old guy had a surprisingly green thumb, and being in the garden seems to give him some much-needed peace. It was during one of these quiet times, as Kakuzu was tending to some tomatoes, that he confessed, quietly, that working in the dirt reminded him of his mother. “We had no money. My mother used to labor on neighboring farms for food or vegetable seeds. She created a beautiful garden, better produce than any of the farms around us. So we never went without.” Kakuzu approaches him now, his mask already lowered, and he delivers a light kiss to Zetsu’s forehead. As he’s about to leave, Zetsu informs him that he’s gotten hold of some rare flower seeds, and asks if he wants to plant them later. “You can’t eat flowers; if you’re not growing something for food then what purpose does it have?” “It provides beauty. Doesn’t that count for something?” Kakuzu rolls his eyes but there’s a smile on his face, which he quickly covers by pulling up his mask. “I’d be glad to help,” he says, gruffly, before leaving.

Sasori

Another no-nonsense, extremely straightforward Akatsuki member. One thing about Sasori that Zetsu will never understand is Hiroku. Why does the redhead choose to hide himself in that hideous carapace when his OWN puppet body was undoubtedly stronger, faster, and had a higher-level weapons capacity? For that matter, why would a perfectly healthy young man choose to rip out his own humanity and turn himself into such a creation in the first place? Mysteries bounded concerning Sasori of the Red Sand, and even someone as world-weary as Zetsu was in no hurry to uncover them. “Good evening, Sasori-san.” Sasori grunts in return; for once, he’s in his own body. Sasori doesn’t seem at all eager to take the initiative, so Zetsu leans down and kisses him on the forehead instead. He licks his lips at the pleasant woody taste that floods into his mouth; being near Sasori reminds him of peaceful days spend photosynthesizing in the forest, taking in the air of nature while the sun beat down on his face. Sasori leaves while Zetsu is lost in this lovely thought.

Itachi

Zetsu would often look at Itachi and think, this child is in trouble. His scent was wrong, his chakra was wrong, and his mental state ... couldn’t have been all that good. Zetsu is the Akatsuki’s spy but he knows for certain that Itachi is one too, that he never cut his ties to that village of his and centered his (and everyone else’s movements) away from his home as much as possible. Zetsu could expose him to everyone, but ... what would be the point? After all, even Madara is only an unwitting puppet in the grand scheme of things to come, and Itachi ... the group was made just that much more powerful with him in it. Zetsu often wishes that Itachi, not Madara and not Obito, was the Uchiha “in charge”; but that wouldn’t work. Itachi’s raw intelligence was a force to be reckoned with, and he wouldn’t take lightly (or at all, really) to being “used” by anyone. Although, in Zetsu’s opinion, nobody on earth could possibly use the sweet boy worse than his own village had. “Good evening, Zetsu.” So polite. So pleasant, even to those who didn’t deserve it. This child, it would be a tragedy when he passed. Zetsu quickly leans down and kisses his cheek, noting how cold the young Uchiha was. “You should warm up with a blanket, Itachi. You’re freezing.” Itachi nods, and then he bids Zetsu a good evening as he walks slowly back to his room.

Deidara

“Oi, Zetsu! Look at what I made!”, Deidara exclaims as he approaches him, holding up a small clay bird. “Isn’t it sublime?!” Zetsu simply nods; in truth, ALL of Deidara’s creations, no matter what they are, look boringly similar to Zetsu. And he didn’t understand the young blonde’s way of taking such careful, meticulous care in sculpting these things ... only to have them explode a few seconds later. And the art pieces weren’t the only closure things about Deidara, as Zetsu had observed many times that the kid just wasn’t the best at controlling his temper. Zetsu would often question Obito as to why he continued to let himself be partnered with him, as Tobi’s idiotic tendencies would surely get Obito killed one day. All Obito would do is shrug and say that Deidara wasn’t that bad. Well, whatever; Zetsu didn’t intend to spend too much time thinking about it. Thinking that it’s about time to do something different with this game, Zetsu takes hold of Deidara, tilts him backwards by the waist, leans down and kisses his neck. When he keys Deidara back up, the guy is as red as a tomato. “What the hell? What was that for??” “Has anybody ever told you that you’re very aesthetically pleasing?” “Aesth-what? You’re not making any sense, weirdo!” Zetsu just smiles and pulls Deidara back to him, this time enveloping him in a soft hug. “You make a tedious time much more bearable. Please continue to do so ... with your art.” Deidara doesn’t really get what Zetsu means, but his ears did pick up Zetsu’s compliment(?) to his art, so he walks away happy.

Kisame and Hidan

The half-shark and the half-plant relate to each other on their carnivorous tendencies, and Zetsu at least is glad to have at least one other person in the Akatsuki that understands his dietary choices. Well, almost. “I’ve eaten a lot of weird meats, Zetsu-san, but I’ve yet to taste human flesh.” “A shame; it really tastes a lot like salty pork.” Then Zetsu lowers his voice and asks, with an unsettling smirk, “Say you decided you want to try a human. IF you could eat any member of the Akatsuki, consequence-free, who would it be?” Zetsu is half-kidding and doesn’t expect Kisame to answer, so he’s surprised when he answers, without hesitation, “Hidan.” “That’s odd; that would be my choice, too. The scent of blood is always on him. Well-seasoned entree.” Kisame bursts out laughing, and Hidan, who happens to be walking by, hears him and stops. “What’s so funny, freak? You laughin’ about mouth-fucking Bigger Freak over there?” Kisame smiles, showcasing ALL of his sharp teeth; and Zetsu says, quietly, “You smell good, Hidan. Can you come closer so that I can catch a better whiff?” and something about the look he’s giving him makes Hidan’s blood run cold. “No fucking way, you crazy weed!” He informs Zetsu that he’s not going to kiss him, and he walks backward to his room, keeping a close eye on Kisame and Zetsu until he reaches his door ... and locks it. Kisame laughs once more, and then he leans into Zetsu and kisses his cheek, before returning to his own room. On his way down the hall he stops at Hidan’s door and says, sweetly, “Have a good night, brat!” which is met with loud cursing behind the wood.

Tobi

When Zetsu first laid eyes on a much younger Obito, he was positive that the kid wouldn’t live through the night. Bloodied, bruised, and with half of his internal organs either rearranged or crushed entirely — “No. He is strong.” Zetsu could only look at Madara in disbelief; what about this dying child seemed in any way “strong”? But then Obito lived through that night, and the next, and before Zetsu knew it, he was taking his place in the grand scheme of this Akatsuki Madara had put together. But for the longest time, Zetsu was sad anytime he so much as looked at “Tobi”; he had watched a bright young boy whose hope couldn’t be crushed even by a boulder deteriorate into an angry, vengeful man who had witnessed (and been mentally and emotionally damaged by) the deaths of all that he once held dear. But a miracle of sorts began slowly unfolding; the more time Obito spent around these people, the happier he seemed to become. It was as though he’d regained his family; and although these individuals are really nothing more than fodder for what’s to come, Zetsu is happy that they are managing to provide Obito with the peace that he deserves. “Tobi” approaches him now, and, seeing that they’re alone, chances it to take off his mask. “Long day,” he says, using his own voice, to which Zetsu agrees. “Longer when you’re starving.” Obito smiles at the comment, and his childlike grin shows flashes of the boy who danced in triumph when he was able to complete a set of push-ups on his own. “You’re always starving though.” “You’re not one to talk; I watched you put away at least eight trays of dango yesterday.” The two chuckle, and Obito moves closer, looking shy now. “Ready?” Zetsu nods, and Obito leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth, just barely touching the bottom of Zetsu’s lips. During the kiss, Zetsu closes his eyes and inhales; all of the candy and pastries that the man ate gave him a delightfully natural, sweet scent. Obito slides his mask back on and turns to go, but before he gets far, Zetsu calls out to him, “Hey?” “Yeah?” “I have a serious question for you.” “What is it?” Using White Zetsu’s voice, and making his grin even wider, Zetsu asks, “All that crap you eat ... does it make you have to crap a lot during the day?” Obito’s face turns red behind the mask and he bursts out into a raucous laugh. “All these years! All these YEARS and YOU’RE STILL ASKING ME ABOUT CRAPPING!” He laughs so hard that he wakes up Deidara, whose room is closest to the living room area. “Tobi, what the fuck?! Go to bed before I stick a kunai up your ass!” Obito immediately goes into Tobi-mode and apologizes to his Senpai. Deidara goes back to his room and Obito gives one last wave to Zetsu before going to his own.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #zetsu #konan akatsuki #pein #nagato #hidan #kakuzu #sasori #deidara #itachi uchiha #obito uchiha #tobi #kisame #kissing #headcanon #naruto

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koko-bopp · 4 years

Text

Sexiled

jeon jungkook x male!reader

word count - 1.9K

genre - SMUT! fluff, soft-angst

contains - virgin!submissive-top!jungkook (he eventually becomes more dominant), calling jungkook ‘bunny’, no penetration; just grinding, dominant-bottom!reader, No mentions of the reader's genitalia, reader is really affectionate, talks of consent.

synopsis - you’re roomates with Jungkook’s friend, when your roomate kicks you out of the apartment to do the deed with his boyfriend, you go to Jungkook’s in hopes he’ll give you some shelter for a few hours.

"Kookie! Hi!" You smile brightly at the younger male, standing at the door of his apartment, looking over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else in the house; and holding a takeaway container of pork belly in one hand and a small carton of banana milk in the other. You look back at Jungkook before speaking, "Is Taehyung home too or are you alone?"

Jungkook was a little confused, he glanced at the contents in your hand, his hand at the doorknob even though the door was wide open. What's Y/N L/N doing at his apartment? His cheeks must be burning red, his bestfriend's friend is at the door, "Er, Tae moved out last week, he's a few streets down–"

"Ah! Good, so it's just you!" You exclaim in relief, "Can I come in?"

Jungkoom was a little surprised at the request, considering the only time you came over was as a plus-one for Hoseok at every event Taehyung was hosting at the apartment or somewhere else, you were close with his Hyungs then you were with him. But Jungkook nodded anyway, naturally not being one to turn someone away.

The two of you went to different universities, opposite ends of the city, actually; but only lived in apartments opposite from each other. Jungkook isn't very discreet with his crush on you, people usually don't spontaneously turn red upon seeing you, or fiddle with their fingers, or stutter two times too many. You were better at hiding it, however.

You had placed yourself in the centre of the living room, between the television sitting on a platform and the coffee table in front of the couch, before facing Jungkook with a grin, "Could I stay the night?"

"What?" Jungkook almost didn't believe what he heard. The question was clear and direct but yet he still struggled to comprehend it. He coughed at the surprise, it was like a punch in the throat, but he managed to compose himself better to answer your question, "I mean, sure, I guess. But what's wrong with your place?"

"Hoseok has his boyfriend over, and he very politely asked him to leave because he and Yoongi had talked about fucking in the kitchen and obviously, me being a good friend, I decided to give him that privacy, but I forgot as I was leaving that I literally wouldn't have a place to sleep, so I realised that your living quarters are the closest–"

"[Y/N]. You can stay, it's fine.. I'm just surprised, that's all," Jungkook mumbles a bit. The world works in mysterious ways, bringing you here was certainly an interesting choice.

"I bought you pork belly with rice, and banana milk as an offering," you smile, placing the meal and drinks on the dining table after walking over to it. The table only having two chairs, which is understandable considering Jungkook lives alone now, "We can watch a movie! And I'm more than happy to sleep on the couch!" You chime, trying your best to make the moment less awkward for him, since, to be fair, you did come rather unannounced..

"Taehyung actually hadn't taken his bed, he let me keep it," Jungkook explained, avoiding your gaze in an attempt to hide his reddened cheeks, "You're welcome to sleep there, I actually just changed the bedsheets– and, thank you for the food, you really didn't have to."

You were grateful as to how selfless Jungkook is, he's younger than you but provides all the boyfriend and friendship material. "Awe, thank you!" You gush, gleely heading towards Jungkook to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around the brunet.

You felt him hesitantly place his hands on your hips, then carefully lacing his arms so that his fingers were holding his elbows as he hugged you back; a warm feeling, and you were always so affectionate. Jungkook almost pouted when you let go of him, but your hand now upon his cheek so you could look at him properly, and it made him freeze. You spoke with concern, your eyebrows furrowed as you assessed the younger, "Are you okay? Are you sick, Bunny?"

"B-bunny?"

You giggle, "Yeah, you know, you look like a bunny; cute, witty, I don't know why you're so shy, I've never seen you like this."

"I guess I'm just... A lot more outgoing in front of my Hyungs.." He forces out a snicker, your thumb now caressing his cheek, not intending for the action to further make his face hot. He really likes the feeling of your skin on his, he just has no idea how to react like a normal human, and it's making him when more embarrassed. Why can't he be like Jin-Hyung and flirt back? Or be more confident like Tae? It was difficult to express the way he wanted without fearing his actions.

"Ah, you're so cute," You say, bopping his nose then fully releasing him from your confining space. "So, about the movie, you can pick. And, you know, you can have your pork belly while we watch and I promise not to disturb."

-`•. ♘

"Why this one, though?"

"It's my favourite movie," he hid his face in a pillow, you two were sitting next to each other; you were sitting with your legs diagonally tucked away from your chest while Jungkook sat upright with his feet on the floor and back against the couch and a pillow hugging his chest.

"Huh," you shrug, chuckling a little before throwing a pretzel from the bowl that was sitting on the coffee table in your mouth, "Didn't take you as the romance buff type."

"I actually really like this movie, Taehyung was watching vintage romance movies once and he suggested this one to me," Jungkook explains, the movie carefully reaching the halfway point as his eyes were glued to the loose thread on the pillowcase, "And I've watched it fourteen times."

"Fourteen?!"

"Fifteen if you count this one," Jungkook laughs softly, "Or maybe not, I haven't really been paying attention..."

You reached for the remote sitting in between the two of you, then pointing the device at the television to close the sound down to a 2. Jungkook was confused. Even more confused when you shifted your body to face Jungkook, placing your palm on your cheekbone and your elbow on the neck of the couch, "Okay. Bunny. What's wrong?"

"I-" He stopped, not being able to avert his eyes from you from the sudden call-out, "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, are you sick? Is there something on your mind? Is it uni? Because if you have work to do you're no way obliged to be spending time with–"

"No, it's not uni," Jungkook sighs, finally moving his eyes away from you but still picking at the loose thread. "It's– it's hard to explain..."

"I'm waiting, Bunny. Please?" You beg, asserting your bother, "Seeing you nervous when I've seen you drown shots like water makes me feel weird too."

Jungkook thought for a moment, he heard his own heart beating through his chest, and the sound was rapid. "Could I show you instead?"

You nodded.

Jungkook leaned in close, “I like you,” he whispered, placing a hand on your cheek with his fingers touching softly, letting his breathing and closeness longer for a moment to let you know what he was going to do, but also out of the hesitation himself.

So, you placed a peck on his lips first, just a small and quick one, and it didn't seem to catch Jungkook by suprise, because he leaned back in to kiss you properly. Lips dancing with yours gently yet still wanting to convey his answer.

He brings you closer and you place your hand on his shoulder, still wanting to be sure that you can touch him properly, but enjoying the privileges that Jungkook was giving you.

"Mhm," Jungkook hums, pulling away for a second and looking down at the space between the two of you; his lips more crimson and his breathing more uneven, "I've never... you know–"

"Oh," you stop, "Do you want to? You know if you're not comfortable we don't have to do anything–"

"I want you to..." His words came out more firm, brining his hand down to yours, lacing them so he could guide you to sit on top of his lap. He smiled at your little giggle at his action, watching you lower yourself over his thighs and either leg beside his as he placed one of your hands on his shoulder. He moved his other hand up your back with the back of his index finger, tracing the over the clothes, "If you're willing as well."

You nodded softly, shivering under his touch, "I really like you too, Jungkook.."

He chuckled s little, "Since when?" He asked, thumbing his thumb over your hips.

"Jennie's 20th... On the yatch.." You admitted, clenching a fist over his black hoodie, grinding down against him gently, becoming more impatient, careful enough to ignite arousal, and just enough too have Jungkook's breath more breathy in the slightest. "You said that confident guys made you nervous, they're your type; I've been seizing my opportunity ever since."

Jungkook held a firm grip on your hips, watching your breath hitch when he forced you down to grind into him harder, "That– fuck– that was two years ago. You really liked me this long?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding while avoiding his gaze. A moan left your lips when he leaned forward, deciding to kiss your neck the way he see fit as he silently guided you in a way to grind on him through clothes, feeling his bulge growing the more you continued your actions and getting more horny with his licking and sucking your neck to leave deeper shades of colours and bite marks. "J-Jungkook, oh my god."

A small chuckle left the other's lips, looking at you with lust-driven eyes as he rocked his hips upwards, pulling you down so to feel how hard he was. Hearing you moan because of him was such a euphoric feeling, "You sound so pretty, [Y/N].."

You grind down harder, holding his shoulders as moans and grunts have started erupting from Jungkook too, "You sure you haven't done this before, Bunny? You certainly know how to please people," you tease, placing a kiss on his lips as he gripped your his with rough hands.

"Hmm," he hummed, his eyebrows furrowing in pleasure at the darkened spot on his dark blue shorts due ot the precum leaking from his cock, "I’ve messed around with people... but haven’t fucked anyone..”

“I’m impressed, Bunny,” you bite you lip, rolling down harder and it resulted in Jungkook throwing his dead back with a loud moan, watching his neck muscles clench as you look the opportunity to paint kisses along his gold skin, and his grip on your hips tight with the intention of having something to hold onto as you moved so sinfully. Pressing a final kiss on Jungkook’s neck before you reached up close to his ear, your voice drops to a whisper, “Can I suck you, Jungkook?”

#wow #i willingly made kook a top?#i think i might be a lil sick wow #jeongguk x male reader #jungkook x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #x male reader #male reader #jungkook bts #bts #bts x male reader #male reader smut #jungkook x male reader smut #x male reader smut #kpop x male reader smut #bts smut #jungkook smut #mlm

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gimmesumsuga · 5 years

Text

Sweeter than Sweet (88)

AO3 Link

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Jimin x Yoongi, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x reader, Jin x reader, Hoseok x reader.

Warnings: Nil of note

Word count: 9.3k

Previous / Epilogue

So. The final chapter. It’s finally here. It’s been a long time coming and honestly, it’s been so nerve-wracking writing this and hoping that people will like it and GOD I HOPE YOU’RE OK WITH THIS ENDING. After two and a half years, trying to find a way to tie this all together has been... quite the task. But anyway, enough rambling from me.

There’ll be an epilogue after this - just a short one - so we don’t have to say goodbye quite yet but... yeah. I hope you enjoy.

“Whatcha making, hyungie? ” To your right, Jimin’s eyes remain fixed on his phone as he calls out to the elder vampire pottering to and fro between the kitchen counters and the stove. With one of Jimin’s thumbs caressing the side of your knee and his other scrolling through whatever Korean article he happens to be reading, you’re surprised Yoongi even realises his young lover is addressing him, so casual is his tone.

“ Kimchi-jjigae ,” Yoongi murmurs in reply as his knife rhythmically thunks against the chopping board, and to your left you hear Hoseok longingly sigh at the mention of food.

You can empathise with the feeling that spurred him to make such a sound. You’ve been a vampire for less than a month and already you’ve started to miss the taste of real food, unable to imagine what it must be like for those around you for whom it's been so much longer. It’s all too easy to understand why they sometimes give in and indulge despite the inevitable gastric upset that it brings. You’d done the very same just last week, unable to resist sneaking a slice of Jin’s vanilla bean cheesecake only to lament its vengeful return back up your oesophagus just a few minutes later - an experience unpleasant enough to sufficiently silence any cravings you might’ve had since; the smell of broth wafting over to you now no more tempting than that of cut grass or fragrant shampoo.

And anyway, it’s not as though Yoongi is cooking with the intention of the meal he’s making actually being eaten. He’s cooking because it gives his restless hands something to do - a task on which to concentrate and thereby silence the anxious thoughts that would otherwise occupy his mind - and Yoongi isn’t alone in his attempt to keep pre-occupied.

One by one you’d gathered together in the kitchen as the day had drawn into night, some having woken early and some having not yet slept at all. Namjoon’s imminent arrival has everyone on edge, and rather than remain in bed tossing and turning to and fro, all seven of you had ended up gravitating towards one another instead, seeking the reassurance found in numbers.

Jin had already been here, in the kitchen, when you, Jimin and Yoongi had arrived here together, his brows furrowed in concentration as he furiously tapped away at the keys of his laptop - yelling when he’d lost at whichever game had him so engrossed. Alarmed, Nova has been giving him a wide berth every since, hiding under the legs of the furthest possible bench and glaring reproachfully each and every time Jin dares make a sound.

It was Jungkook and Taehyung who had joined you next, and they continue to occupy one another now, some hours later; Jungkook with his sketchpad in hand and tongue poking against the inside of his cheek as he tries to capture Taehyung’s likeness from where he sits posed across the other side of the table, a sleeping Yeontan in his arms.

Hoseok arrived last of all, completing the set He's been strangely quiet ever since he joined you, yet still seems to have trouble keeping his limbs from wanting to dance as he watches various choreography videos on his phone, volume turned down low. It seems as though even in times of stress he’s unable to keep that innate sense of rhythm he’s blessed with at bay.

You can’t help but note the subtle sense of guilt that settles in your stomach as you observe them all. If it weren’t for you and your wanting to do this, Jin’s eyes might not be marred by such dark circles, nor Yoongi’s thumb-nail so thoroughly well-chewed as he stands gnawing on it in front of the stove. Jimin’s knee wouldn’t be bobbing up and down so restlessly, the two youngest might still be in bed, sleeping in as late they usually do, and Hoseok…. Well, there are a lot of things that might be different for Hoseok if it weren’t for your arrival into their lives, but the less you dwell on that the better, you suppose.

“Princess?” As if somehow sensing your need for distraction, Yoongi’s voice calls out to you. “Fetch me the pork belly from the fridge?”

“Sure,” you agree quickly, flashing Jimin a smile as he’s forced to relinquish his grip on your bracelet so that you’re able to move. He smiles back having ceased his fiddling, though you can’t help but worry it looks a little strained, very aware of the soft sigh he releases as you make your way over to the refrigerator as instructed. Inside, on the bottom shelf in a large glass bowl, is the meat Yoongi had left to marinate in there some half an hour or so earlier, and as he takes it from your hands and pulls back the covering film, the scent of rice wine is so pungent it almost makes you cough.

“Thank you,” he wishes you softly, brushing a kiss to your temple as he passes on his way to the stove where he tips the pork into an awaiting pot, fat sizzling as it meets the heat.

“Do you need anything else?” Wanting to make yourself as useful as possible, you hover at his side as he resumes his place at the chopping board, slicing through mushrooms.

“I’m almost done,” he assures, not taking his eyes away from the task at hand, “But thank you,” he says again, the corners of his lips curling into the smallest of smiles as he briefly glances your way.

Dismissed, you wander back towards the group in hopes of finding further diversion. You don’t dare disturb Jin - the last time you did he looked as though he might throw his laptop at you for having interrupted whatever kill-streak he was in the middle of. Glancing up from where you’d been absent-mindedly watching Jin’s pink-haired avatar run across the screen, your eyes meet Jungkook’s, a smile tugging at your lips when he beckons you over.

“What do you think, noona ?” he asks as you come to peer over his shoulder at his sketchbook. He holds it at just enough of an angle to keep his drawings hidden from Taehyung’s view as the blonde-haired vampire squirms from side to side to try and take a peek.

“He hasn’t given me boobs again, has he?” Taehyung pouts, and whilst you try to stifle a laugh a wicked grin appears on Jungkook’s face. His muse groans, slumping forward till his head rests on the dining table and his torso hides Yeontan completely from view.

“No, Tae, he hasn’t given you boobs,” you reassure, smiling just as hard as Jungkook at the thought of it, “Though, I’d really like to get a look at that sometime.”

“ Jagi! ” Taehyung whines all the more, sitting up straight to hit you full-force with the adorable full pout of his lips and wide-openness of his eyes.

"I’m only playing,” you grin whilst still sneaking in a side-glance to Jungkook that tells him you’re really anything but. “It’s really good, baby,” you say, running your fingers absently through the ever-lengthening tresses of Jungkook’s hair to feel him preen at both your praise and his pet-name. “Looks just like you, Tae.”

And honestly, it does. Even if he were to bestow Taehyung with some additional assets , the likeness would still be uncanny. Jungkook has captured both him and Yeontan perfectly; from the delicateness of Taehyung’s long fingers carding through his playmate’s fur to the softness of his expression as he gazes down at the perfectly shaded puppy curled up in his lap.

“You’re sure?” Taehyung checks, doubt seeping into his tone as he watches the way the youngest vampire curls his arm around your waist and coaxes you down to sit on his knee, adoration in his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time you and Jungkook have been partners in crime when it comes to playing pranks, so you can’t blame him for being suspicious, but when Jungkook finally relents and flashes the drawing Taehyung’s way, you can’t help but smile at the genuine delight you see written across the blonde vampire’s face.

“Can I keep it when you’re done, gguk?” he asks, that boxy grin of his making an appearance when Jungkook swiftly nods, putting pencil to paper to continue shading the strong angle of Taehyung’s jaw. You smile fondly at them both, placing an arm across Jungkook’s shoulder to keep yourself steady when Hoseok suddenly lets out a disgruntled sound from beside you. Nose wrinkled, he’s busy shoving Jimin back up off of his lap from where the younger vampire has flopped down in hopes of using his hyung’s thighs as a pillow. Jimin’s grinning, his whole body going purposefully limp as Hoseok struggles to sit such a dead weight back up again (pun intended) and it only makes you smile more to see it, laughing when Hoseok finally gives up with a loud ‘yah!’ of frustration as Jimin’s head falls back into his lap.

For someone who so freely lavishes affection on others, it never fails to amuse you just how unwilling Hoseok can sometimes be to being on the receiving end of it.

“Hey Kookie?” You press a kiss to his temple to gain his attention. “Can you do me next?” He looks up at you, one eyebrow raised and a dirty smirk twisting his mouth.

“You want me to do you, noona ?” A light smack to his shoulder has him laughing, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I meant draw me, you perv.”

“Like one of my french girls?” he persists, smiling all the more lewdly when Yoongi starts to chuckle along like some dirty old man from where he’s stood stirring the contents of the pot now bubbling away on the stove.

“Have you even seen Titanic, Jungkook?” you laugh, just about to reach down and tweak one of his nipples through his shirt as punishment when Jin suddenly throws his arms wide and exclaims, “I’m flying, Jack!” and sends the whole room into peals of laughter.

And that’s it, then. Once Jimin sits up and starts to belt out a somewhat pitchy rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On’, any remaining tension left in the room is well and truly broken. Jin joins in, Taehyung does too, and then Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoongi - or at least, he tries, bless him - until finally even you’re singing your lungs out with tears of laughter leaking from the corners of your eyes.

And as sappy as it sounds, it almost does feel as though you’re flying as you’re sat here amongst them - heart soaring whilst you’re surrounded by these silly, wonderful men that you love so very much.

The seven of you are singing so loud that if it weren’t for the exceptional hearing you’ve so recently been blessed with, you might not have heard the resounding knock that suddenly echoes through the manor. You do, though - all of you do - and as another knock comes, somehow even louder than the last, the whole room falls silent, bodies tensing and eyes wide in time for the third and final knock to sound.

“He’s here.”

Eyes narrow and breaths are held. Your gaze meets Jimin's as he sits up straight, on high alert, and there's an emotion written on his face that you can't quite put a name to right now. Not whilst you're so preoccupied with how strange the absence of a furiously beating heart feels. All the same feelings Namjoon usually inspires in you are still there; your body just lacks the means to properly express them, now that you're dead.

There's no clammy hands. No quickening of breath. It's disconcerting and yet reassuring all at once, reminding you of just how different of a person - how different a creature - you are since you and Namjoon last met. Now, even if he wanted to hurt you (though, you're sincerely hoping he doesn't) you doubt he'd be able to.

You're a lot more than just the 'family pet' these days, that's for certain.

You stand from your seat on Jungkook's lap quicker than you realise, body moving before your mind has the chance to catch up. You're nervous - undoubtedly so - but part of you is just eager to finally go and lay to rest all the history between you. To settle things once and for all. That eagerness gives you the courage to straighten your spine and square your shoulders; a tentative smile on your face as you turn to the others.

Before you have the chance to speak, however, Jin promptly snapping his laptop shut mid-game completely derails whatever it was you were just about to say.

"What're you doing?" you ask as almost perfectly in sync, the vampires around you abandon their various pastimes to join you on your feet, beautifully poised for action.

"We could never let you do this on your own, jagi. " Taehyung's impossibly long fingers slip between your own, squeezing your hand in his as Jimin comes to your side and claims the other - stoic and silent as his gaze meets yours. The weight of his hand in yours feels like an anchor; solid and grounding. It's comforting - just as comforting as the sweet kiss Taehyung brushes across your knuckles before placing your hand into Yoongi's waiting, open palm.

"You can always change your mind," Yoongi reminds you, searching your gaze for any sign that you may want to turn back. You appreciate the offer, and you're sure that deep down, some of them may wish that you would, but it's too late now. You need to see this through.

"No. I'm sure," you reply with as much confidence as you can muster, and out of the corner of your eye you see Hoseok nod to himself with a look of grim determination.

"OK," Jimin says in that sweet, melodic voice of his, "Then let's go."

The short journey from the kitchen to the entrance hall has never felt longer than it does now, with a heart so full of trepidation. You can only recall one other occasion where you felt such dread whilst taking these same steps; back when rather than walking side by side with your lovers you had run towards them instead, drawn by the sounds of Jimin’s frantic cries. It’s a memory that enters unbidden into your mind, pulled to the surface by Namjoon’s arrival, and you squeeze Yoongi’s hand as you attempt to push away the image of his delicate body cradled limp and bloody in Jimin’s arms. It’s not something you want to think about when you’re about to come face to face with the man responsible for having made that happen - can only hope that the vampire waiting outside your front door is now very different from the one who was forced out of it the last time the two of you met within these walls.

You hesitate as the manor’s solid wooden doors come into sight, a lump in your throat as your footsteps falter. It’s not that you’re scared, per se - it’s just that you’ve never been very good with confrontation even at the best of times. You want this to go as smoothly as possible - if such an outcome is even possible at all. You just hope that -

“Allow me.” Sweeping past you in all his handsome glory, Jin approaches the front door with nary a hint of nervousness. There’s a formidable expression on his face, one that sits totally at odds with the soft, over-sized sweater he’s wearing. On his stomach, an adorable cartoon whale swims amongst fluffy sky-blue fabric - far too cute a fashion choice for someone who looks as though he's just one wrong move away from kicking serious ass.

You murmur your thanks regardless of whether Jin might hear you over the sound of him unbolting the front door with deft, graceful hands. Him having taken charge removes the chance for you to hesitate even more than you already have, and before you know it - before you've even had a chance to take whatever bracing breath you'd imagined you'd take before coming face to face - the door is swinging open.

The weather has gotten more mild since last you and Namjoon met. Rather than the howling wind and freezing rain that accompanied his sudden exit from your home some weeks ago, the breeze that ruffles through your hair now is by far a more pleasant one; the sun's warmth lingering despite its absence.

"Evening, hyung, " Namjoon greets in that deep voice of his, little more than the tips of his hair visible over the top of the elder vampire's head. Even with the door wide open, Jin's shoulders are so broad that even at Namjoon's greater height, he's almost entirely hidden from view. Without loosening your grip on either of the hands you hold, you find yourself rocking forward onto the balls of your feet to try and get a better look, but to no avail. Jin seems determined to shield you, one of his hands planted firmly on the door frame to block Namjoon's entrance.

"Hello, Namjoon," he replies, and though his tone may sound pleasant, there's a tightness to it that puts you on edge. "Before you come in, I just wanted to remind you-" Namjoon laughs wryly, cutting Jin off mid-sentence as he places one of his large atop his elder's shoulder and pats.

"I know, hyung, " he assures, and even without being able to see his face, you can hear the smile he’s wearing, "I'll be on my best behaviour." His hand slips down onto Jin's bicep as your protector lets his arm slowly fall back down to his side, opening up the way for Namjoon to come inside. "Promise."

Realising what it was that Jin had intended to remind him of - his promise to kill Namjoon himself should he ever dare to cause trouble again - you really hope that Namjoon is sincere about keeping his vow. You'd rather not witness any more blood spilt between these brothers; you've seen enough to last a lifetime as it is.

Jin steps back from the doorway, a furrow in his brow as Namjoon steps forward to take his place. Dressed in a burnt orange sweater that's at least a size or two too large, he looks marginally better than the last time you met - though that's hardly an achievement given how back then he'd intentionally tried to appear weak and sickly for the sake of his rouse.

"It's good to see you all." With his hands clasped together neatly in front of him, Namjoon almost looks contrite as you all stand and stare at one another, at a loss for what to say. Silent and stiff, the atmosphere is unmistakably awkward.

Perhaps you should be the one to speak first? You’re the one that asked him to come, after all, so it’s no good just standing here like the cat’s got your tongue.

Mustering up your courage, you lift your gaze from his chest and meet Namjoon’s eyes for the first time since his arrival. They’re just as golden as you remember, and as he looks back at you, you swear his gaze softens - a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Almost as if by reflex, you feel your own lips curving into shy, answering smile, and just as they’re about to part to speak -

“Thank you for coming.” They’re four words that you never would’ve expected to hear Jimin say, but you’re thankful that he has. As if him having spoken somehow grants his blessing on Namjoon’s arrival, the vampires around you seem to collectively relax; rounding of shoulders and softly exhaled sighs of breaths no longer held.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Even Namjoon looks relieved as he unclasps his hands, slotting them inside the pockets of his pants.

“I didn’t,” Jimin retorts somewhat sharply, and as you glance to the side you note the way his jaw clenches despite your gentle squeeze of his hand.

“What the lady wants, the lady gets,” Namjoon chortles in spite of Jimin’s hostility, “It’s good to know at least one thing hasn’t changed.”

Pursing your lips, you almost feel mildly affronted by Namjoon’s insinuation that you’re spoilt until you quickly realise that he likely has a point, and from the smirk Yoongi’s wearing you’d be willing to bet he silently agrees.

Well, whatever. It’s not as though you getting your own way turned out to be a bad thing where he’s concerned.

“So,” Namjoon continues, taking another step forward to finally allow Jin to close the door behind them, “For what purpose have I been summoned? I have to say I was surprised to have Taehyung go to the trouble of tracking me down.” Nervousness has you clearing your throat as your hands slip from those of the vampires beside you, not quite able to look Namjoon in the eyes as you break away from the group to approach him.

“Should we... go to the garden to talk?” you suggest, very aware of the many sets of ears and eyes focused on the two of you. You’ll never be able to say all the things you need to say with this many people listening in so intently.

“Lead the way.” With a slight nod of his head, Namjoon comes forward with intent to follow after you, but when you turn around you find you’ve nowhere to go. Jimin blocks your path, arms folded, eyes narrowed and jaw so tight that the veins on his neck are popping.

“You haven’t forgotten what you promised?” he asks, one eyebrow rising ever so slightly as he peers down the gentle slope of his nose at you.

“No…” Looking around the group, your gaze lands on Hoseok just as his falls on you. Easy-going and yet fiercely protective; sweet but firm when he needs to be. Out of all of your options, Namjoon’s successor seems the preferable one to have loitering nearby should this all turn to shit.

As if reading your mind, Hoseok half raises one hand awkwardly into the air, shuffling his weight from foot to foot.

“I could go with them if you like.” Jimin’s gaze flickers back and forth across your face to gauge your reaction to his hyung’s suggestion, and on seeing your hopeful little smile, he subtly nods his head and takes a step back, clearing your path.

“Alright. We’ll be right here, ok?” His glances over your shoulder towards Namjoon. “In case you need us.”

“I know,” you reply softly, closing the gap between you and placing on hand on his folded arms to give a squeeze for reassurance, your eyes fluttering closed for just a second as you brush your lips across his. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” declares another voice as hands find your hips and a similarly fleeting kiss skims the tender junction where your shoulder meets your neck. You know it’s Yoongi not only from his tone but the delicate pout of his lips where they press against your skin.

“Please do.” Twisting, you smile as you and Yoongi come face to face. He smiles back in return, content to let you take his hand and place it into Jimin’s until you should return. Together, they’ll keep each other strong.

“Shall we?” Namjoon’s sudden arrival at your side pulls your focus back to the matter at hand - body tensing in response to his close proximity.

“Sure.” At your nod, Hoseok turns to lead the way, walking ahead as you and Namjoon follow on behind through the rest of the group towards the corridor from whence you came.

“ Jagiya .” A tentative touch of fingertips to your wrist makes you pause, and it’s with a sweet, reassuring smile that you try to communicate to Taehyung not to worry without having to actually say the words. The concerned furrow of his brow remains, unfortunately, but when Jungkook slings his arm around his hyung’s shoulder and pulls him close, you know that they, too, will take care of one another.

They all will, as they always do.

Namjoon’s smiling somewhat wistfully as you fall back into step but remains silent. His footsteps seem so loud compared to yours as you walk the hallway together; Namjoon in shoes that are scuffed at the heel and you in a comfy pair of rubber-soled slippers.

“Hoseok was a good choice as my replacement,” he comments, lifting your gaze from where you’d been staring down at the motion of your feet. Your eyes travel the length of his imposing stature to his face - still just as handsome as the first time you met despite all that has taken place between you. He looks ahead in spite of your appraisal, his focus solely on the back of the vampire that has been filling his shoes since having left; undoing all the wrongs Namjoon had made, trying to make them right.

Hoseok chooses not to reply to Namjoon’s compliment. You know he’ll have heard it - Namjoon had said it more than loud enough.

“He’s done a really good job. Kept the guys in work and our stores well-stocked.” Namjoon ‘mms’ along, nodding his head. “Don’t know what we’d have done without him, really.”

You wish you were better able to read Namjoon’s expression but it seems as though he’s keeping his cards close to his chest, for now. Whether or not that’s intentional you’re not sure, but either way, it doesn’t keep you from wishing. Is he feeling proud of Hoseok, you wander? Resentful? Apathetic?

When you reach the double doors to the garden, Hoseok holds them open for the both of you. You expect him to follow as you begin down the fairy-light lit path that winds deeper into the night, but he hangs back instead, loitering beside the hedgerow.

“You’re not coming?” you ask, turning to see him standing there once you realise you can no longer hear his footsteps crunching along the gravel with yours.

“Unless you want me to?” he offers, cocking one eyebrow, and at first, you’re really not sure. You look to Namjoon and once again he seems unconcerned, shoulders shrugging, his hands still deep in his pockets.

“Your call. I won’t be offended, either way.” In some strange way, Namjoon’s nonchalance is somewhat reassuring. If he had any bad intentions, surely he’d be pushing for the two of you to be alone rather than leaving it all up to you?

“I think we’ll be ok,” you say, and your stomach does something a little funny at the small, grateful smile that tugs at the corners of Namjoon’s mouth.

“Ok.” Hoseok leans back against the wall of the manor, folding his arms across his chest as he fixes Namjoon with a stern look despite addressing you. “You know where I am. Just shout, and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” you smile, and then you and Namjoon take your leave.

The garden, as always, remains tranquil despite the worry in your heart. Now that spring is on its way, the night-blooming flowers you’d planted last year are starting to thrive, releasing their sweet scent into the evening air. Ahead, you can hear the faint trickle of the fountain and beyond it, the gentle creaking of a swing in the breeze - your final destination.

In silence, you sit side by side. The swing’s slatted seat is only made for two, forcing you to cosy up far more than you’d originally planned. You’d been aware of Namjoon’s scent - far more than ever before thanks to your newly enhanced sense of smell - but now, sat so close, it’s almost overwhelming. Warmly spiced and fragrant, it-

“You’re not scared of me anymore, are you?” Namjoon’s sudden observation interrupts your runaway thoughts, and when you sharply look up from where you’d been staring at his lap, you’re surprised by the crooked smile you find him wearing. You hesitate under his scrutinising gaze, unsure of what to say, and Namjoon laughs at your lack of reply. “I mean, it would make sense.” Taking his hands out of his pockets, he uses one to hold onto the chain suspending the bench on which you sit as he begins to rock his weight back and forth - heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe - to gently move the swing. “You’re even stronger than I am right now.”

Is Namjoon right? Are you really not so afraid of him anymore? Taking a moment to examine how you’re feeling as the two of you quietly swing back and forth, you realise what he’s said is true. You’ve been nervous, certainly. You’re still nervous, in fact. But scared? Not so much. You know, now, that should you ever need to defend yourself you’d be more than capable of doing so. Your training sessions with Jin and Jungkook have certainly helped in that department, even without your added strength taken into account.

“I guess you’re right,” you admit and again Namjoon smiles, looking down at his feet as he exhales a short, breathy laugh. “And while we’re on the subject,” you continue, playing with the hem of your top where it lays across your lap, “Part of the reason I wanted you to come tonight was so that I could thank you… for that.” Namjoon looks up and meets your gaze, brow furrowing slightly as his feet fall still and the swing's momentum ceases. “For saving me, again. For turning me.”

He stares back at you, blinking once, twice, then thrice - like he can't quite figure out what he's meant to say.

"... They told you it was me?" he finally asks, "Can't say I expected that."

"I mean, they didn't so much tell me. More like Jin and Jungkook just blurted it right out." Namjoon laughs at your admission, fondly shaking his head. "But they didn't deny it when I confronted them, either. And don't get me wrong, it's not as though this just-" You gesture vaguely with your hands, hoping he'll gather your meaning. "-Just… Makes up for everything that happened before."

Namjoon's expression looks pained at the mere mention of his former transgressions. He twists in his seat to face you more directly, clasping his hands together.

"I know-" he begins urgently.

"But-" You interrupt his interruption, "-But I'm still grateful. You didn't have to come back here and help the others find me. Could've just stood back and watched me die rather than turn me. But you didn't." Namjoon straightens in his seat, glancing down at his feet and wringing his hands. "So yeah… thank you. Really."

Namjoon releases his hands only to rub awkwardly at the arm of his sweater; a gesture far more human than you've ever seen from him before. It's disarming - endearing, almost.

"Well… you're welcome." He meets your gaze, smiling cautiously.

You get the feeling that this is one of the last things Namjoon had expected when Taehyung had invited them here, and if you're honest, you find it somewhat strangely satisfying to catch him so off guard. You examine his face; the earnestness in his golden eyes and the shallow dimples of his cheeks - smile not quite broad enough yet to bring them out in full force. He looks well - better than you expected him to - and he scoffs a laugh when you tell him so.

"I've looked better," he dismisses, leaning back into the swing's seat to restart it's slow back and forth motion.

"Well, I can't imagine you've had it easy these past few weeks…" You shift in your seat, eyes cast down to watch your fingers busily playing with your bracelet. "Where've you been staying, anyway?" Just as you look up, Namjoon looks away, scratching distractedly at the side of his face.

"Here and there," he answers, and you wonder if the evasiveness of his reply means he's been sleeping rough more often than not. You hope that's not the case, despite all the bad things he's done.

"Fair enough," you say when he offers no further explanation. "To be honest, I was surprised Tae even managed to find you. I'd kind of expected you to have moved on already." Namjoon looks at you, thoughtful.

"I thought about leaving. Finding a new place, a new life."

"Why didn't you?" He pauses, smiling faintly before offering an answer.

"I guess there was just something still holding me back," he says, and as self-absorbed as it might be, your mind can't help but jump to the conclusion that that means his reason for staying was you . Whether you're happy or concerned about that, you can't quite figure out. "I've had… A lot of time to think since I left." Namjoon opens up his hands as he speaks and stares down at the lines etched in his palms. "A lot of time alone. Done a lot of self-reflection."

He pauses but you remain silent, realising that he probably has a lot more to say. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear the sound of a small animal darting through the undergrowth, its little feet scurrying between the bushes under the cover of darkness.

"You were right about what you said." Your head whips round to face Namjoon when he finally speaks again, eyebrows rising in curiosity. "Before, when you said that I didn't love you, you were right." He looks up at you, a deep furrow between his brows. "At least, not in the way I should have done. The way I treated you was… despicable. The things I did? Unforgivable."

For a moment, Namjoon seems to forget himself - moves as if to reach out and take your hands but stops himself at the last moment and keeps them clenched in his lap, instead.

"I never meant for it to go so far or to get so bad, but once I had that first taste of you… I… I just couldn’t stop," he explains, and now that he's opening it up it seems as though the words are tumbling over one another in their haste to come out. "I was so certain I was beyond saving. Beyond capable of being loved even if I were deserving of it…" Namjoon's expression turns into one of pain, a sadness in his eyes as he looks back at you with the golden glow of fairy lights illuminating his face. The sight puts pain in your chest; an ache where your beating heart used to be. “But then you came and I thought… maybe…”

“There were already people here willing to love you, Namjoon,” you interject, shuffling closer, “Long before I ever arrived.” He smiles ruefully.

“I realise that, now, but I took too long. The damage is already done.” Namjoon shrugs his shoulders in defeat, still wearing that same sad smile as he leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, rubbing his palms together.

You wish you knew what to say - wish you could offer him some comfort regardless of his worthiness of it - but you find yourself at a loss for words. You can’t pretend as though his former relationships aren’t as in poor shape as he says. If he were to try to make amends, it would certainly be a long and difficult road - for all of them, not just Namjoon.

“Back when I came to the bar to warn you, you asked me what I wanted,” he says suddenly, hair ruffling in the breeze as he turns his head to look up at you, “Do you remember?” You recall the memory easily enough - there had only been that one occasion Namjoon had ever visited you at your workplace, invited or otherwise.

“I haven’t come to start a fight.”

“Then what do you want?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted.” Is it vanity that makes you presume that he means you when he says that?

“You said what you wanted the same thing you always do,” you recall aloud, embarrassment making you drop your gaze as you admit, “To be honest, I assumed you meant me.” You hear Namjoon softly chuckle, and then suddenly he’s touching you - lifting your chin with the curl of his index finger to bring your gaze back to his. It doesn’t startle you as much as you’d anticipated it would; doesn’t inspire the fear you’d expected should his hands ever lay on you again.

“A reasonable assumption,” he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners until his expression becomes sombre once more. Sighing, he lets his hand fall, linking his hands together where they dangle off the end of his lap. “But what I really meant was… family. First, I lost my sister, then my parents. My friends - my brothers . You.” He falls silent again for a moment, shaking his head as it drops forward, obscuring his face from your view.

“Namjoo-”

“I’ve lost everyone.” Namjoon sits up abruptly, and when he turns his face your way you swear you see a glassiness to his eyes. “And all through my own fault.”

Looking back at him now, you realise Namjoon really was right - you’re not afraid of him at all anymore. If anything, you feel sorry for him. No one deserves to spend an entire eternity alone, whether or not their exile was somewhat… self-inflicted. Maybe… maybe if...

He shifts in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable under the intensity of your gaze.

“I don’t expect you to say anything,” he says when the silence has gone on too long, “I know I don’t deserve-”

“I can’t speak for the others-” You stop him mid-sentence, and Namjoon settles back down into his seat having almost stood up to leave, his expression one of cautious curiosity. “-But I’d like to believe no one is ever totally beyond redemption.”

Redemption. The word is like kindling to the fragile ember of hope that flickers in Namjoon’s eyes at the mere mention of it.

“I still want to think that somewhere inside you, deep down, is the Namjoon who cared for his sister so much that he did everything he could to save her. Who offered his brothers immortality rather than face losing them, too.” You smile meekly. “Who saved me, knowing that to do so he would be putting his own life at risk.”

Namjoon’s eyes search yours, though you’re not certain what it is he’s looking for. The trace of a lie, maybe? That you’re just humouring him out of pity? Giving him false hope? You hope he knows you better than to think you’re the sort of person that would.

Finally, after what feels like minutes have gone by, he sighs.

“I want to believe you.” There’s a raw, vulnerable edge to his voice when he speaks, twisting his body to better face you. “I want… to be better. I want to… to be a man who’s deserving of your love, even if… even if I never have it.”

“Namjoon…”

It’s instinctive, the way you reach out - the way you gently place your hand on his cheek. Namjoon leans into it, eyes closing for just a moment, and you just can’t help it, how your heart bleeds for him. You should be less affected - should feel colder and more apathetic towards this man who betrayed you so badly - but you just… can’t. There are many unflattering things people could call you, many faults that they could name, but they could never accuse you of being cold or unfeeling. It’s just not in your nature. Perhaps some might say that’s a fault in itself, but here you are regardless.

You wish, in another life - one where less mistakes were made and fewer hearts were broken - that you were able to hold him. Promise to give Namjoon all the love he so sorely needs to be so that maybe, one day, he might be able to heal.

But there’s too much water under the bridge. Even if Namjoon were one day to come back into all of your lives, it could never be the way it was before. You can’t be that person for him anymore. It’s time for you to both move on, once and for all.

“Joonie,” you say again, ever so softly, and when he opens his eyes it makes your chest hurt all the more to see how desperately hopeful he looks. “I can forgive you for what you did. I need to, for both our sakes.” Namjoon smiles, lifting his hand to place it over yours where it lingers on his cheek, but when you start to pull away his expression falters, brow creasing in confusion. “But I can’t just forget it. Not yet.”

You hope the implication that maybe one day that might change helps to soften the blow as you fold your hands together in your lap, offering him a sympathetic smile that at first, he turns away from. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath as though to collect himself, and you find yourself on edge, wondering if your rejection will be taken as badly as it was once before.

“I understand.” Turns out, you needn’t of worried. Namjoon looks sad, certainly, but there’s a resignedness about him that you find reassuring - especially when he huffs a laugh and admits, “I’d probably think you were a fool if you’d said differently.” You laugh as well, knowing he’s right, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted as you sit up straight and run both hands through your hair, breathing out a sigh.

“Can I be honest with you?” Namjoon asks and instantly you nod, giving him your full attention. “For the first time in almost thirty years… I have no idea what to do. I wasn’t happy before, but at least looking after the others kept me busy. Now there’s just… nothing.” He licks his lips, wetting them. “It’s freeing, but it’s also really fucking terrifying.”

“I get that.” And you do. Without the others to keep you company, you’re not sure what on earth you’d do to pass the time for the rest of all eternity. “I know it’s pretty vague advice, but personally? I’d really like to see you start living again. Find something good , something for you to pour all that passion into.” You smile as you playfully knock your thigh against his, pleased when Namjoon does the same back. “You’ve got too bright a mind to dwell on such dark thoughts all the time, Joon.”

“I’m not sure where I’d even start… But something good sounds…” He shrugs his shoulders, offering you a lopsided grin. “... good, I guess.”

“And there’s something else I wanted to speak to you about, as well.” You call out loudly to summon Hosoek, and within seconds he comes running towards you, eyes wild and fists already raised in preparation to fight. “Hobi, it’s ok,” you reassure quickly as Namjoon puts hands up in surrender - a gesture that for some reason has you holding back the urge to giggle. Hesitantly, Hoseok lets his arms fall back to his sides and relaxes his posture, all the while his gaze flitting between you and Namjoon as though to doubly make sure that everything is as ok as you say it is.

“Everything alright?”

“Do you remember that talk we had yesterday? About my old apartment?” Eyebrows furrowing slightly, he nods. “Turns out, Jimin never stopped paying the lease, just in case I ever changed my mind and wanted to leave,” you explain, turning to Namjoon, and it makes you smile to see the way his eyes start to widen as it dawns on him what you’re about to offer. “It’s yours, if you want it, and so is your share of the manor's wealth.” Namjoon’s head turns to look at Hoseok, incredulous. “Hobi and I have already spoken about it. It’s only fair."

"You don't have to do this," Namjoon says quickly, eyes flitting rapidly back and forth between you and Hoseok. "Really. I'll be fine."

"We know we don't have to," Hoseok smiles, folding his arms across his chest.

"But we want to," you correct, pleased when Hoseok nods his agreement. "You saved my life, now we're giving you an opportunity to turn things around and save yours. We can call it even."

"I'm not sure that's right." Despite his disagreement with your sentiment Namjoon can't seem to help but smile. "I think I still owe you rather a lot more than you do me."

"Most likely," you grin in return. Standing, you reach down into your back pocket to retrieve the keys you'd stashed away earlier; a silver pair that jingle against the penguin engraved disc of your keyring as they're dropped into Namjoon's open, waiting hand. "Just to warn you, there'll be an awful lot of plushies waiting for you. You might want to redecorate."

"I'm sure it'll all be very… you," Namjoon laughs, joining you on your feet. Falling silent, he looks down at the keys in his hand and you see his shoulders move with the weight of the breath he takes. "Thank you." He looks so sincere as he meets your gaze again, closing his fist and then pressing it to his chest as his other hand reaches for yours. He squeezes when you grant it to him, smiling once more as you squeeze back just as tight.

"We should probably head back inside," you say after a beat or two have passed - sufficient enough time to memorise the feel of Namjoon's hand wrapped around yours. "The others are probably going out of their minds by now."

"Are you kidding?" Hoseok laughs as he falls into step with you as the three of you head back towards the house, "I can hear Jimin's teeth grinding from here."

You re-enter the house together, a seed of hope taking root in your heart at the amenable way Namjoon and Hoseok are able to converse back and forth, almost as if the last few weeks had never happened.

"Once you're settled, I'll call you to discuss the finer details, and when-" You're distracted from their talk of practicalities by Nova’s sudden high-pitched meowing, and on looking to your right you see her coming towards you down the hall with her sleek black tail swaying gently behind her as she walks, her intelligent eyes glinting as they catch the light.

“Hi Nova,” you greet, stopping the other vampires in their tracks when they hear you speak. Meowing again, she winds her way between your ankles as you smile down at her, brushing against your legs with each turn of her limber body until finally, you bend to pick her up, scooping her into your arms. Namjoon approaches her with a fond smile, waiting for you to nod before reaching out to give her the fussing she truly desires, and you laugh at the sheer volume of her purrs as she rubs the side of her face against every part of him she can reach, nibbling at the tips of his outstretched fingers.

“I think she’s missed you,” you comment and Namjoon chuckles, giving a firm scratch to the underside of her chin.

“The feelings mutual,” he purrs back at her, lavishing her in affection for just a few moments longer before finally dragging himself away - fingers restless at his sides you make your way back to the entrance hall, as though he almost wishes they were still in amongst her fur.

The others seem to barely have moved since you left them. They linger at the bottom of the staircase, chatting amongst themselves, but when Yeontan barks at having spotted Nova from across the room, silence abruptly falls.

“Is everything ok?” Urgently, Jimin comes toward you with hands outstretched, laying both on your shoulders to keep you at arm’s length while he surveys your wellbeing, a furrow in his brow.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you reassure softly, offering him a small smile as he meets your eyes, searching them for confirmation. “Really. We’re fine.” He nods, still looking somewhat uncertain, yet he releases you nonetheless, stepping back so that Namjoon is able to step forward and address the group.

It’s sad how suspiciously they regard him, though you completely understand why they do. You’re sure Namjoon understands, too, and to his credit, he appears to be doing his best to ignore the stony silence he’s met with - or at least not let it bother him.

“I know it’ll never be enough to make up for all the things I’ve done,” he begins, gesticulating restlessly with his hands as he talks, “But… nonetheless, I wanted to say I’m sorry. To all of you. For everything.” Shuffling their feet, the group as a whole looks unsure of how to respond to Namjoon’s apology. Taehyung’s focusing all his attention on Yeontan whilst Jungkook avoids eye contact altogether; Jimin’s stony faced whilst Jin’s is impossible to read. It’s only Yoongi who meets Namjoon eye for eye and nods his head in acknowledgement. Yoongi, who almost died at the younger vampire’s hands, and yet has remained kind enough - soft-hearted enough - to at least hear his apology out.

Namjoon’s smiles gratefully, bobbing his head in return, and when Yoongi glances your way you mouth a ‘thank you’ that the dark-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders to, feigning nonchalance.

“I should go,” Namjoon declares when no one volunteers any further reply, recognising that at least for now, reconciliation remains a lost cause. You follow after him as he heads towards the door, Nova still cradled in your arms, and as he reaches for the handle you quickly call out,

“Don’t be a stranger, ok?” He pauses, twisting to look back at you and the vampires stood at your rear. “I mean… it’ll take time for things to get better but…” You glance at the others around you before looking back to Namjoon, smiling kindly, “That’s something we’ve all got plenty of.” Namjoon chuckles fondly and in the small of your back you feel a hand being placed, rubbing gently up and down.

“That we have, little one,” he smiles, and even after all this time - all that’s happened - that nickname still stirs something within you. It’s not lust, and it’s certainly not love, but a feeling of… nostalgia, almost.

With one final parting look, Namjoon turns to leave, pulling open the heavy front doors and stepping out into the night. Before he can disappear into the dark, however, Nova begins to squirm restlessly in your arms, letting out a loud series of meows more akin to wails.

Namjoon stops in his tracks.

Looking down, you see Nova peering up you imploringly with those green, intelligent eyes of hers, and you’re sure it’s just your imagination, but you feel almost as if she’s trying to tell you something as she meows again, tail swishing.

“Joon?” You go after him, not stopping until he’s within arms reach - close enough to allow the wriggling Nova to gracefully leap out of your grasp and into the embrace of a very startled Namjoon.

“W-what-?” he stammers as he hastily rearranges his arms to accommodate the feline form curling up against his chest. The sight of him so flustered and caught off guard is so endearing that you can’t help but start to grin, pressing your lips together in an attempt to stifle the laughter bubbling up inside your lungs.

“I think the lady hath spoken,” you observe as Nova rubs her face against Namjoon’s jaw, her meows now deep, rumbling purrs of contentment. He strokes her despite his utter bewilderment, long fingers carding through her fur, and watching the two of them you know for certain that letting her go is the right idea. What better way to slowly soften Namjoon’s heart and give him purpose than for him to have something to care for all of his own? “Look after her, ok?” He looks up from the cat cradled in his arms.

“Are you sure?” he asks and when you nod, he smiles so hard that for the first time since he got here, you finally get a flash of Namjoon’s infamous dimples. “Thank you. Really,” he says earnestly, and as Namjoon wishes you goodbye, his golden eyes take one long, last lingering look up and down your form before he turns, takes his leave, and you softly close the door.

Turning the key in the lock, a heavy exhale leaves your lungs, and for a moment you stand with one hand pressed to the door and eyes closed to gather yourself. You’re so relieved that it’s impossible not to smile despite the nagging worry at the back of your mind that Jimin might be upset at you just having given away what was originally his gift to you, but just as it starts to push to the forefront and cause your smile to falter, Jimin’s voice rings soft in your ear.

“That was really kind, what you just did.” You turn in the embrace of his arms as they settle around your waist, looking up into eyes that await you.

“Really? You’re not upset?”

“No, kitten,” he assures, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours, a smile tugging at his lips, “I’m not upset. Though, you’re awfully pious for the creature of the night, you know.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.” Smiling, you circle your arms around him too and Jimin begins to sway almost as if the two of you are dancing, hips swinging side to side.

“Aside from making the rest of us look bad... of course not.” Jimin’s lips find yours in a sweet, fleeting kiss, and when he pulls away his eyes are practically glowing with affection, cheeks full and rounded with happiness. “If anything, it only makes me love you more.”

Yoongi appears at your side, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a low hum of agreement.

“What about you, oppa ?” you ask teasingly, tilting your head in order to find his lips and speak against them.

“You already know how we feel, princess.” Yoongi nips at your bottom lip when you whine, chuckling deep down low. Yes, of course you know - but that doesn’t mean you don’t like to hear it out loud. “You know we adore you,” he whispers as Jimin assaults the other side of your neck with soft, lingering kisses. “We cherish you, all of us.”

Your two lovers pull away to reveal the rest of the group watching on; fond smiles on their faces, Jin’s chest puffed up with pride beneath the arms he’s folded across them. Seeing them all there safe, happy and smiling - your family, your friends, your lovers, your everythings - it’s almost enough to bring you to tears. Never would you have thought yourself capable of being able to love someone so much, or be so blessed as to receive so much love in return.

You’re so lucky. So, so lucky.

“Careful,” you say, blinking back the sting in your eyes, “You’re going to make me cry in a minute.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that, would we, kitten?” Jimin teases, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tight as Yoongi claims your other, linking his fingers with yours. “Anyone up for some pool?”

Almost in perfect unison, your beloved vampires throw their hands up in the air - Jungkook shouting his enthusiasm with a ‘let’s get it!’ so loud that it almost makes you jump.

“Dibs not with Jin-hyungie, ” Hoseok sing-songs up ahead as you make your way towards the hall, cue indignant shrieking from the eldest of the group and laughter from the rest.

God, you love them. You love them, you love them, you love them .

“I love you,” you call out to them, unable to contain the affection that’s overflowing within you, tugging on your lover’s hands to pull them ever closer to your sides. You can’t imagine anywhere else they should ever be - anywhere else that you could ever belong.

“We love you!” Taehyung shouts back, and in his arms, Yeontan yelps his wholehearted agreement. Up ahead, Jungkook throws his arms around Jin’s shoulders to drag him down low enough to ruffle his hair as they walk, insisting,

“But I’m still her favourite, you know?”

****************************************************************************************

*deep breath*

Oh, I hope you liked it...

Please, it would mean so much to me to hear your thoughts. Whether it just be about the ending or maybe you've been a silent reader all this time, I'd so love to know what you've made of all of this. I've been writing this fic for two and a half years and finally drawing it to a close has me feeling... pretty emotional to say the least.

Stay tuned for the short epilogue that I'll hopefully be posting once I return from my vacation.

I love you guys. I really do. Thank you for all your unending support - whether you've only just found this fic or whether you've been here since the start. Love you <3

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dog-day-morning · 3 years

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The word of God tells us we shall suffer for the cause of Christ, he who seeks a greater reward must attain a greater faith. Unto whom much is given that much more is required. You wanna eat that whole caramel cake, you crave that sweet tea, you pursue that woman in a nightclub hoping to get her in a compromised position, face down tail up because face it, we're not willing to bow down to the will of God, but we’re so happy, and ready to give in to that round mound of doo doo brown. The 3 Hebrew boys Meshach, Shadrach, and Abednego went into the fiery furnace defying Nebuchadnezzar's declaration to worship him. These men had the inspiration, strength, and courage to say, even if He doesn't deliver us, we know that He can. That kind of faith is called perfected faith. We can be lazy because we refuse to work with what God gave us before the day of calamity comes to devour us. Tribulation is kicking into high gear, and many of God’s people are none the wiser. There are people who were working 3 jobs before, and after this pandemic became a global concern who know what is on the horizon. You don't need an Issachar spirit to discern the times; read the Bible. He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, ‘A shower is coming.’ And so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,’ and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time? The gov't has pulled back on unemployment benefits forcing many to find a job. The 2 righteous servants in the parable of the 3 servants increased the wealth of their employer who trusted 3 men with different amounts of talents [money], and the 1 who didn't work diligently for his master inherited weeping, and gnashing of teeth. God invested in us, and He expected a greater return from this major investment. Jesus was the greatest financial venture ever made. The Father placed His faith in His Son who in turn gave Him many more sons that walk amongst us waiting for the Day of Judgment. This investment which supersedes all, but are intertwined will never decrease, and forever increase. The 144,000 isn't a spiritually inspired interpretation based on mine, and Mima getting the Holy Ghost or having an encounter with the Holy Spirit to speak in tongues. Sit down grandma, your Depends are leaking brown stuff that reeks of formaldehyde, and raw chitlins. God is looking for a righteous Nation to worship Him not themselves. These men, and boys who represent the 12 tribes of Israel have never been defiled by women, and hopefully not by men either. You lucky mother You can take the word literally or as a misinterpretation. Those who don't believe in the written word who believe that God's word isn't infallible aren't all to blame for this heresy. Those who originally interpreted the King James Bible added to, and took from are suffering for a misleading interpretation. The prophetic which God didn't let man corrupt altogether has pretty much played out verbatim. We may be dying to a world that is trying to kill our faith that God has no intention of doing until He finds His true worshippers, and He’ll never destroy one's faith in Him. Winter is coming and you and I must be prepared. We must live like today is our last without being caught up in fear. I'm suffering from a form of laziness called jackass. God shall supply all your needs, but faith without works is dead. The ant has the intuition to work throughout the Summer knowing that Winter is coming. A lot of these drones won't live to see the finished product. Ant mounds look like the Pyramids of Giza that secure the Queen, but where is the King? They serve the one who gives life that sustains the colony, she is their goddess, but what happens if the Queen dies? There's more than one Queen serving the colony who can breed an entire colony independent of one other. fulfilling their role while working together in unison with the others who all serve a greater purpose. This

is a major element that drives the Kingdome of heaven. Christ is just like His Father In the Kingdome that includes the Holy Spirit which they will pour upon all flesh again soon. There are no cowards or sinners in the Kingdome. The angels are not as drones, they are blessed warriors.

Revelation 21:8

8 But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.

1 Corinthians 6:8-10

8 Nay, ye do wrong, and defraud, and that your brethren.

9 Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,

10 Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

Alkebulan we need to wake up and get right. Black American's of the tribes of Judah, Gad, Reuben, and Issachar you need to aim at my forehead, and scatter my scatter brained grey matter all over the pavement. When Joe Biden told a radio podcaster if you don't vote for me you're not Black, he must be color blind. This vaccine that suspiciously looks like the Mark of Whodunnit. They can plant a microchip in your arm that can track your every move, financial transaction, and possibly your dreams while you sleep. Some Walmart stores are refusing to take cash when you check out; they only take debit, and credit cards. These are signs that we’re living in the End Times. The Last Days. I'm looking at this as a sign to get the hell outta this city, and decompose. What in God's name am I afraid of? Jesus took a beat down like a man on a mission.. You're not weak or simping if you gave your life for a people you fed, healed, gave sight to, preached to, taught them a new way to live, pray, love, told them about a Kingdome greater than Jerusalem, and you didn't kill anybody in the process knowing what they were going to do to your physical body in an almost retarded like bid to destroy their salvation. I've done none of that; my bad. Stop looking for men, especially zaddy to deliver us. “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” Some of us foolheartedly called Bill Clinton the first Black president when he's not, never can, or will be to me in any sense, Barack wasn't either. Thomas Jefferson, the third elected president, who served two terms between 1801 and 1809 was described as the “son of a half-breed Indian squaw (Black) and a Virginia mulatto father (Black).” Abraham Lincoln, the nation’s 16th president, served between 1861, and 1865. Lincoln had very dark skin, and coarse hair and his mother allegedly came from an Ethiopian tribe. His heritage fueled so much controversy that Lincoln was nicknamed “Abraham Africanus the First” by his presidential opponents and cartoons were drawn depicting him as a Negro. Warren Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Dwight David Eisenhower, and the scourge of the South Andrew Jackson were all n**gahs. I’ll see you come Hanukkah you self-hating black, Uncle Ruckus’s. I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, why should I be overjoyed about the genocide, and enslavement of God's people? Christmas is what it is. Hopefully you will celebrate this holiday season together fulfilling God's prophetic word. I can't unless you kill me. The Christmas holiday is as pagan as Joel Osteen is at scamming. David Duke, you might wanna go to ancestry.com, and take a DNA test. You might be 30% Swahili. By the looks of those big, gorilla nostrals you had before that rhinoplasty. You, and Bull Connor may be related to Idi Amin. Your biggest shame is your greatest blessing. Personally you can kiss the skid marks in the middle of my skid marks after I take a fresh dump. Conservative, political pundits, and wannabes whose names I won't mention, but one in particular who looks like he smoked 23 blunts in 15min. with no filter. Please keep him in California, and let him drown with his zaddy, and pancaked tail, bowed hipped women. Use your lips as a floatation device dude. These people are ashamed of the God who has blessed many, and plenty. These people suffer, hopefully not always, from the white savior or white zaddy complex. The truth isn't in any of them, that's why they're so adept at lying when making bold-faced statements before the public that opposes their previous opinion like people don’t have YouTube or google. I’ll Bing a factoid or Yahoo that mother to get the truth I may even pay for it, gimme a dollar. My inability to walk amongst men as a man has stagnated my propensity to live That's BS, my Apostle said something this past Sunday that's stuck on my forehead. YOU'RE LAZY!!! I am what I am, a pain in the rear end. This has gone on way too long. Sometimes

I feel as though God wants me to kill myself because the PO PO won’t. I would feel better if my natural family would stab me in the neck, not my back, with a piece of diseased, pork, spare rib from a boar hog, and let me die from a rare form of trichinosis. The people have spoken while I’m playing Jay, and Silent Bob. Father, get me outta here. Elohim, 9/16/2021

#your financial transactions

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georgescatcafe · 4 years

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vermillion — 1

rating: t warning/s: period-typical homophobia pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: cowboy x city boy au, rancher sapnap, rich george, coming of age, slow burn word count: 3,152 summary: When Sapnap gets sent into the city to get quick cash for his family’s struggling ranch, he’s not expecting much from the experience—lights aren't very blinding when held up to the Sun, and he's not exactly there to play around. But then he meets George, a boy built on money, who quickly sweeps in not just paying customers but also Sapnap, leading him into what any ruddy country boy would call the mouth of the Devil: high society. Cue a summer spent by each other’s side while feelings run unbidden, uncaring of deadlines and restraints.

It should be enough for the pair—and for awhile, it is, right up until it isn’t.

+ao3 +masterpost

;;

PART I

1994

Going to the city alone isn’t too different from going with his Pa. The drive there is mild, skies blue, sunny, fields on both sides of his muddied pickup stretching out endless and golden, ready to be cut down. Nick is sixteen now, old enough to head to the market on his own, license shiny and new, brain bright and sharp. He’s been preparing for this, and now it’s time for him to show off what he knows.

He had thought the 80s were bad, his dad cursing some figurative Big Man (Nick’s pretty sure he just meant the government) and constantly pushing hard on the ranch to make ends meet. They aren’t farmers, their neighbors having it way harder than they could, but it was rough, and it’s still rough—everything is so expensive, so now Nick is their last hope, Pa working the ranch, son sent off to the city to try and get some immediate cash. It’s hard to deny freshly cut steaks.

They’ve got horses too, pretty ones, some sold to be racers, but mostly pretty ones. Nick’s been planning to propose they start some summer thing, parents bringing their kids to the ranch to ride the horses, get the wind in their hair from something other than a car with its windows down. Not this year, though. (The highway sign tells him his exit is in two miles. Nick focuses back on the road.) This year, he’s busy.

;;

Pulling into the market’s parking lot, Nick doesn’t feel blinded. Really, opening the truck door finds him with a lungful of stink, and his thoughts are drowned out by the honking of horns and shouting of pedestrians. He thinks he hears a bell tower in the distance—does this city have a college?—but he can’t be sure.

It’s nothing glamorous.

Rounding his truck, he gets the coolers out the back, gets the papers too, lists of cows they’ve got, some horses, sheep, goats. Pa wants to get rid of them, but Ma likes to make sweaters. The sheep can be costly, but sweaters cost others, so Nick guesses it all balances out. They’re not getting rid of any chickens this year, but Nick’s two coolers definitely have some plucked birds. He blinks, remembering the eggs. He’s got some of those to sell too, and they don’t even need to be refrigerated. He’ll get them later.

Finding his shop is easy. The signs pointing out where everything is are all done in a looping, confusing cursive, so Nick forgoes reading them to just follow the sight of flannel and the smell of smoking meat. And there it is. A booth, the sign above it not in cursive (thank God) and declaring the name of their ranch in bold. Once Nick’s got all his things in place, he comes to stand proudly at it. PAPPAS RANCH above, Nick Pappas below.

Things go a lot slower after that. People don’t really flock to him, people don’t even come up to him. If anyone does, it’s at a meandering pace, like the wind might’ve pushed them more than them deciding to look. It’s a little humiliating, but Nick does his best to sell what he can. He’s not really concerned about the meat, and the animals are all still alive and fine on the ranch, but he is concerned about cash, and he knows they need it. Customers are vital. There just… aren’t any.

He leans back on his heels, surveying the marketplace. It’s quaint, kind of cute. Not as rugged and rough as the one in town, more proper-looking. To be expected. He people-watches. The people are people. No one is particularly interesting. Another customer is blown towards him. Nick sells them a couple twelve-ounce filets. He pays a little more attention after that.

Still, that’s the only big purchase he gets, and he tries not to let it sit on his mind too heavily when he heads back to his truck, coolers and folder and cash in hand. The night is warm, and he’s grateful for it when he settles in the bed of his pickup. In hope of saving some money, he’d turned down his parents’ offers of a hotel, the reluctance of giving up cash clear on his dad’s face anyway, so now Nick is left to sleep in his truck bed, surrounded by coolers and tarp and blankets. When he rolls over, he winces. He’d put the cash in a little safe then tucked that little safe under his makeshift bed. It sticks out uncomfortably underneath him. Oh well. He literally made his bed. Now he’s lying in it.

;;

Morning comes before he’s ready for it, and he finds himself glaring at the Sun as it creeps over the horizon, taunting him with cotton candy skies and sweet birdsong. The night wasn’t much better, with the safe in his back, with the city still awake long after the market closed. Despite his exhaustion from the drive, from standing, sleep did not come easily, and Nick feels the effects of that as he sets up shop all over again, goes to the market’s little bathroom installed down the way to change clothes, to splash water on his face. He groans when he remembers his toothbrush, still in his truck. He goes to get it anyway.

So, his start is a little slow, so what? Nick ties his bandana tighter around his head when he reaches his booth, double-checking his inventory before smiling at the woman who runs the booth across from his. She tips her hat at him in return.

There’s more people coming around today, which is good, and it makes sense. It’s a Thursday, which, while it isn’t the weekend, it’s getting there, and Nick eagerly anticipates it.

He makes a deal for one of their cows, sells some filets, some chicken thighs and veal—it’s a better day. He’s hesitant to call it good.

;;

Like the day before, Friday comes bright and early, uncomfortably so. He climbs out of his truck, gets his things—the whole rinse, wash, repeat. And then he’s back at his booth, saying hello to the woman across, again she tips her hat, and he’s drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

Nothing.

Nick takes a breath, holds it, lets it out. Things are fine. He’s fine. Rome wasn’t built in a day; Pappas Ranch doesn’t sell their entire inventory in two. It’s fine.

It’s still early, a whole day ahead, and though Nick braces himself for disappointment, he tries not to let it show, still standing tall beneath the sign above his booth. He just needs to be approachable, smile, be the charming boy his Pa raised him to be.

It works when two women walk by, mother and daughter, probably, arms linked, the two of them chatting only to stop at Nick’s booth, the mother smiling politely at him and daughter waving. “We’re having guests over tonight,” the mother says.

“How many?” Nick asks. And the deal goes through.

And it works with an older man, eating only for himself, but wanting to stock up for the weekend. A full guys’ thing. But it’s just him. Nick tells him he gets it, and he’s a few chickens shorter, a rack of lamb ribs gone.

It’s around lunch that things slow down, leaving Nick mildly surprised, but not entirely annoyed, as he uses his own pocket change to get some fruit from a farmer in another section, and an elderly woman three booths down gives him a little bit of smoked pork free of charge. It’s a meager, but good lunch. He’s leaning up against the wall, apple in hand, surveying the business still going on, when he spies someone who looks his age, hair a dark brown, eyes the same, dressed a bit more upscale for a market, even if this market is in the city. Nick pushes himself off the wall when the boy makes his way over to him. It’s a very deliberate walk, and Nick stands straighter for it, not showing off or anything, more like sizing up the competition—the competition for or on what, only Nick’s subconscious knows.

“Pappas Ranch,” the boy reads, and Nick almost laughs at the accent coloring his words. “Are you Papa?”

And the question is so reasonable yet so absurd, spun wonky with the accent, that it makes Nick laugh and reply with a name not quite right either: “Nah, I’m Sapnap.”

It’s such an… outdated name, given to him as a kid by an enthusiastic pen pal and then latched onto by his parents, fading out of fashion the moment he hit double-digits, when he started working his way up the ranch. The name is dumb too, zero sense without context, still stupid even with it, and he feels every bit of its stupidity when the boy studies him, unamused.

“Sapnap?” The word comes slow off his tongue, and Nick resists the urge to flush a bright red.

“Yeah, what about it?” He plants his feet firmer in the ground, wanting to shift from foot to foot but refusing. Refuses to take back the name too.

“Sounds dumb.”

Nick stutters out some excuse that falls flat before straightening. “What’s your name then, hotshot?”

“George,” and oh, isn’t that hilarious? Talk about outdated.

“My name might be stupid, but at least it isn’t lame as hell!”

George, of course, doesn’t like that, and that fact makes Nick grin, eyes growing wild when George grips the edge of the table between them to lean forward. “Fuck off.” Their noses nearly touch.

“This is my booth,” Nick replies.

“My city,” George shoots back, and Nick stops himself from rolling his eyes.

“It’s a city.” Nick raises a brow when George merely huffs, leaning against the booth. He spies the apple in Nick’s hand, and Nick fights back the urge to hide it, possessive. “What?” It’s his lunch. What about it? Workers eat too. Not that someone like George would know that. Nick gives him a cursory once over that George ignores, still focused on the fruit.

“Where’d you get that?” George asks. “It looks fresh.”

“It is,” Nick points towards the booth he got it from, “over there. Everything here is fresh, dumbass.”

“What time is it?”

“Noon, I reckon.”

George studies him, still leaning against the booth, head coming closer and closer to Nick’s the longer he stares. “Your lunch?” Both of his hands now press down on the table between them, fingers splayed. His nails are short but nice. Nick’s have dirt under them. He holds his apple tighter.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Come with me,” George says, and Nick frowns as George moves away from the booth to nod his head towards the main road. “You can take a break.”

“Not really,” Nick wants to reply (break? Lunch was his break. He’s got to work!), but then George pivots and starts walking away, and he can’t have that, so he follows. “My stuff—”

“Will be safe, chill out,” George tells him. He glances behind and meets Nick’s eyes. Nick wonders if the other will crash into any of the various obstacles around them, booths, pedestrians, goods, fucking rocks in the walkway or something, but he doesn’t, just keeps walking. Part of Nick hopes he crashes. Wants to see him trip, fall, ruin his pants—they’re fancy, clean with those pressed lines down the middle. In the middle of the market, however upscale, they look stupid as hell. To see the knees covered in dust, caked in dirt, it’d make Nick pretty happy. He smiles at the image, and George, though brows end up quirked in confusion, offers a smile back.

Nick stumbles, a direct opposite to his imagination, but it’s because it’s not the city that’s blinding—it’s George’s smile. He blinks, glances behind himself; does George have a particularly white smile? Artificial, does George reap the benefits of being rich? Does the sun glint off those bleached teeth? But the Sun is still high overhead. And George’s teeth were white, but not white enough to be fake. Nick shakes his head, not wanting to get caught up in the thoughts, merely following after the other still. They’re out past the market now, heading deeper into the city. Delicatessens, bakeries, designer shops, and corner stores line the road, and Nick stares into the windows of them all with rapt attention. Sapnap, that’s what he told George his name was, and maybe here he is: Sapnap, someone else, someone new, someone who could walk by George’s side like it’s where he’s been his whole life, like the city is all he knows.

Looking at the elite walking by, Nick knows it wouldn’t be sustainable, not for him, but just for a bit, he can pretend. He glances over at George, who walks on ahead, easy, unassuming if not for the sun in his hair, spinning it into gold, unassuming if not for the set of his shoulders, the quiet confidence with which he carries himself. Carefully, he attempts to imitate the other.

They walk for another few minutes, and Nick is starting to worry about his things, about whether he’ll make it back in time for the after-school rush, the dinner rush, the weekend—when George finally stops and pushes open the door of a restaurant named something Nick can’t pronounce.

“Is that French?” he asks George.

“Yeah,” George replies, “I can’t pronounce it, though.”

“I thought all rich people knew French,” Nick says.

“Next state over,” George tells him. “Or in the east maybe. I’m taking Spanish.”

“My cousin knows Creole.” George hums before smiling at the host and asking for a table for two. The fancy atmosphere, however much a consequence of location and George’s upbringing, the host’s look over George’s shoulder at Nick, table for two—all of it sends Nick’s skeleton rattling, bones shaking and shivering under layers of skin and muscle, his brain easily equating these things to a date. But George isn’t like that. He’s just fancy. And Nick isn’t like that either. This is just what rich people do in the city. What everyone does in the city. They get lunch.

When they’re seated, Nick tugs at his collar. He’s not hot, but God, has he grown uncomfortable. He’s got dirt behind his knees he’s sure, and when he speaks it’s not that smooth, sweet voice George has got, and the slight beard he’s finally started to get only makes him all the scruffier. He’s a fish out of water, and he’s growing more and more certain it shows.

“Sapnap,” George says, “are you alright?”

And oh. Right. He’s not Nick. To George, he’s Sapnap, and George is taking Sapnap to lunch, which means he thinks Sapnap is able to be seen in a place like this, if not alone then with George, so it’s fine. Nick’s hand falls from his shirt to the table, where it curls around napkin-wrapped cutlery. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m fine. Uh. Can you read this menu?”

“It’s in English, Sapnap.” George’s tone is dry, but it’s a joke, and his eyes squint with his smile. Nick smiles back.

;;

Despite their smiles, despite sharing a meal, they don’t get along. Nick wants to help provide for lunch, but he also can’t, not really, so they argue over that, and they argued over what to get too, because Nick is a firm believer in trying everything so let’s just split stuff, George, but George is apparently a possessive little bitch, so his idea was continually shot down, but then when a waitress came by, George ordered what Nick had suggested, so they argued over that, and when they left, George argued for a treat and Nick argued that he had to get back to work.

Nick won that one, but George stuck by his side as they traced their steps to the market.

Despite their inability to get along, they become what Nick thinks might just be friends.

“If I lost all my shit ‘cause of you,” Nick starts, but George just rolls his eyes. And when they reach his booth, it’s fine, like George had said it’d be, but Nick does lament the lost customers in the time spent out. He still has an afternoon ahead, but he still took off way more time than he’d have liked.

“It’s fine,” George tells him, hopping up onto the front little ledge of the booth. “I’ll help you sell it, or something.”

“You don’t have anywhere to be?” Nick asks him, checking his inventory one more time, just to make certain nothing’s been stolen.

George shakes his head, kicking his feet slightly, not stopping even when it makes the booth begin to sway. Nick steadies it with a careful hand, and George sends him a grateful look, though he still kicks his feet. “It’s summer.” He watches as Nick pulls out a chunk of meat, chuck, drops it onto the proper counter set up behind the pretty covering the booth makes, and sets about cutting it into pieces. “Nothing to do.”

“For you,” Nick says.

“For me,” George agrees.

Nick fixes up the beef, thinking about the restaurant, the roast he saw somewhere on the menu—that’s what people’ll use this meat for, he’s getting creative—and leans back, fingers curling around the countertop. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

George shrugs. “I can get you good food; I can advertise good food. You can cut what will one day be good food and keep the cash.”

“You’d do this for no pay?” Nick asks.

George tilts his head back, exposing the long column of his throat. Nick watches as sunlight catches his skin; George hadn’t seemed to sweat much, but now Nick sees where it’s damp on his skin, the light making it shimmer. Nick looks away. It didn’t look gross. George finally lowers his head. He doesn’t look gross. “I don’t need it,” George says. “And I’m not stupid. My dad works with some people from the city stockyard. You need the cash, don’t you?”

Nick fights back the urge to make a face. “Yeah. Did you remember that before or after you made me get lunch with you?”

George at least looks a little guilty. Nick takes what he can get. “Look,” George finally says, “I’m not terrible at marketing. And I know what people here want. Can you really say no?”

He can. Nick could say no and tell George to leave. Could say no and thanks, but lunch actually sucked (it didn’t). He could say a number of things that would get rid of George’s company.

He doesn’t.

“Just don’t get in my way, okay?” He and George lock eyes. George nods. Nick tightens his grip on the counter, surveys the steadily crowding market. “So who’re you going to reel in first, hotshot?”

;;

#snf vermillion #georgenap #sapnotfound #snf #fic #fanfiction

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years

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𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖: part 3

✨part 1

✨part 2

“It’s always been you. Has it always been me?”

pairing: Tobio Kageyama x fem!reader

rating/warnings: chapter 6 is a little ✨spicy✨ but nothing too extreme (probably 16+ is best for this section), also there is a little swearing too but again nothing too bad :)

synopsis: You liked him. He liked you. Easy right? Well, maybe not as easy as you thought.

a/n: hi friends :) this is chapters 5&6. just a reminder that the taglist for this fic is still open so just ask to be added and I will gladly add you 💓also this part is a bit longer than the last ones but I still wanted to post both chapters✨enjoy xx

•

Five: this ones for you

You probably stood in the middle of the gym hallway for only a few seconds before getting snapped back into reality by Koi, but it felt like ages. You couldn’t believe that he actually kissed you. While yes it was on the cheek but it didn’t matter.

“Y/N come on,” called Koi. You ran after her and entered the gym. You and your team made your way to the away team student section. There, you all spread out on the steps. You stood near the middle of the steps, giving you a clear view of the court. You saw the boys warm up and stretch. You spotted Kageyama and butterflies instantly entered your stomach. He was giving tosses to the team, each with greater accuracy than the last. No wonder he was the starting setter.

“Woah Tobio is really good!” said one of your teammates. You just smiled to yourself.

It was time for the teams to switch. Seijoh, which you learned was their name, was up to warm up. Oikawa, the boy from earlier, also was setting. Maybe that’s who Kags was talking about last night? Oikawa seemed to be so focused on what he was doing, different from Kageyama who had precision on his side.

The whistle for the start of the game was finally blown. The teams shook hands and got in their starting line up. You noticed that Seijoh was up to serve. Since Oikawa was their setter, he served first. You shook your poms, cheering for your school to get the ball up.

Oikawa bounced the ball before spinning it in his hand. The whistle blew for him to serve. Oikawa turned to look at the away student section. He spotted you instantly. He pointed at you and you jumped. He nodded his head slightly, as if saying “This ones for you”. You could tell everyone was staring at you now, though you tried not to react. You just kept shaking your poms. Finally Oikawa served, earning a perfect ace. You felt your stomach clench. Oh god.

“That guy sure has one hell of a serve,” you heard a student say. Oikawa was up to serve again, the score 1-0. This time, his serve was picked up by Nishinoya.

“Cover Kageyama!” yelled Noya. Kageyama ran to the ball, unable to set it, he passed it to the wing spiker.

“OH YEAH!” yelled Tanaka, as he slammed the ball down, earning a point. You cheered loudly, jumping up and down with your poms in the air.

The first set was neck and neck. Every time Seijoh got a point, Karasuno followed up with two and vice-versa. Now, it was Kageyama’s turn to serve. The score was 20-19, Karasuno down. You felt so nervous for Kageyama. He was just as nervous. He knew you were watching and he wanted to impress you.

“You got this Kags!” You chanted. He must have heard you, because a sly smile appeared on his face. The whistle blew and up went Kageyama’s toss for his jump serve. Seijoh’s libero shanked the ball and out it went, earning Kageyama an ace.

“Go go Karasuno!” Your team cheered. It might have been one serve but you were so proud of him.

Karasuno took the first set. The final score was 26-24. You were beyond excited. You and your team chanted the cheers you had practiced yesterday. The second set was about to start, this time with Kageyama serving. You again felt your nerves rise as you watched him bounce the ball. Finally the whistle blew and up went the ball. Kageyama hit it but the serve went long, passing the end line by only about an inch. Shit. You instantly noticed Kageyama’s change in demeanor.

“Shake it off, you’ll get the next one,” yelled Suga.

“My bad!” replied Kageyama. It was only one point after all, everything will be fine.

Update: everything was not fine. Karasuno lost set two, 28-26. You trembled at the thought of the boys losing this game.

“Hey lets go, take this set!” You yelled. Afterall, your job was to cheer on the team so there was no room to doubt them. You and your team started to chant the cheers until the rest of the student section joined. You wanted to be the loudest ones in the gym, aside from Tanaka and Noya.

“OH YEAH!” exclaimed Noya and Tanaka, finding out Karasuno got first serve. You knew that them having first serve meant Kageyama was first to serve. You had no doubt he would do great, but you still felt nervous for him. He stood at the end line, bouncing the ball.

“You’ve got this Kags!” you yelled, louder than you initially thought. Kageyama heard you and looked up at you in the bleachers. He smiled. You smiled back.

Finally the whistle blew and Kageyama threw up the ball. His serve was strong, but Seijoh’s libero picked it up no problem. Oikawa set it to the wing spiker and he hit it cross court.

“Mine!” called Noya, digging up the ball. Kageyama was in a good position thanks to Noya’s dig.

He set the ball to Hinita and using their special quick attack, they scored a point. The crowd went crazy. You were in awe of Kageyama’s skills.

“Great play! Get the next one!” someone said from the stands. You could feel your smile growing as the game went on.

Game point for Karasuno. Oikawa was up to serve. You could feel the tension radiating from each person in the gym. The whistle blew and Oikawa wasted no time in slamming the ball. But his serve was no match for Daichi’s skill. He got the ball up and Kageyama sent it over to Asashi. The rally seemed to continue forever. Back and forth, no team was willing to let the ball drop. You got more and more anxious each time they touched the ball. Finally, Oikawa went up to set a quick middle attack, but was shut down by Tsukkishima. That was game point.

“Oh my god we won!” cheered Koi. You two hugged in celebration. You were so excited, you couldn’t think straight. You and your team rushed downstairs to congratulate the boys. You instantly found Kageyama and you two locked eyes. Without even thinking, you ran towards him, almost jumping into his arms to hug him.

“You won!” you exclaimed as you clung to Kageyama. He couldn’t think straight either. He just held you tightly.

“Yeah, we did,” he said finally. You soon realized that people were staring, so you carefully let go of him and he set you down. You just looked at Kageyama and smiled shyly.

Everyone waited outside to board the busses and head back to school. It finally hit you that now you and Kageyama would be hanging out. Alone. Your nerves instantly came back. Well, it's a little late to back out now. You took a deep breath and just waited to get on the bus.

“Hey little cutie,” you heard a voice call. You turned around only to see Oikawa. Kageyama saw him too. “I hope you and Tobio know that that win was just a fluke. It won’t be like that next time.”

“We will just have to wait and see then, won’t we?” You replied. Oikawa smirked.

“Yes we will and as for your number-”

“Come on Lazy-kawa, we have to clean up,” called the same guy from earlier. Oikawa rolled his eyes.

“Iwa you’re really starting to become a cock-block you know that…” Oikawa’s voice trailed off as he walked towards his friend. You chuckled to yourself and got on the bus.

•

Six: interrupted

You got back to Karasuno and unloaded the bus. Your stomach was in knots the whole ride. Once again, you were too nervous to be your energetic self. You waited with your things for Kageyama, unsure what else to do. Kageyama was getting off the bus but was pulled aside by Daichi.

“What is it?” Kageyama asked. Daichi looked around to see if anyone was watching. He grabbed Kageyama’s hand and slipped something in it.

“Make good choices,” said Daichi as he walked away. Kageyama looked to see what was in his hand.

“I’m not gonna need this!” Kageyama called back at him. Daichi laughed.

“Better safe than sorry!” Kageyama groaned and slipped ‘it’ into his back pocket. Kageyama gathered his things and walked towards you. You could tell he was just as nervous as you were.

“Ready?” You asked. He nodded and you two headed to your house.

Once you arrived at your house, you two set down all your things and headed into your living room. You then realized you were still in your cheer uniform.

“Oh, I’m gonna go change really quickly,” you said. Kageyama nodded and you rushed upstairs. A wave of panic came over you as you struggled to get out of your uniform. Then came the question of what to wear. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard but you also didn’t want to look like you weren’t trying at all. You settled on black leggings and a grey crew neck. You looked in the mirror.

“Calm down!” You said aloud to yourself. You sighed and ran back downstairs. There, Kageyama was just sitting on the couch, twiddling his thumbs. He looked up at you, eyes wide.

“You look pretty,” he said quietly. You smiled.

“Oh thank you. Um, you’re probably hungry after that game. I think I have stuff for ramen.” You headed over to your kitchen and scanned around for food. Kageyama followed. You grabbed noodles and vegetables and started to cook.

“Can I help?” asked Kageyama.

“Oh if you want to. Here you can chop these,” you handed him a bundle of scallions and a knife. He cut them so carefully and you just smiled as you watched.

You arranged the bowls of ramen with noodles, vegetables, and a side of pork for Kageyama’s bowl. You placed the bowls at the table, across from each other. You both sat down and started to eat.

“This is really good Y/N,” said Kageyama, eyes bright because he was starving.

“I’m glad,” you said with a smile, “Hey can I ask you something?” Kageyama looked up at you with a noodle half hanging out of his mouth and nodded.

“How do you know that Oikawa guy from today?” Kageyama choked on his noodles.

“Oh um we went to middle school together. We both play the setter position so we’ve always competed with each other,” he explained.

“Isn’t he a third year though?”

“Yeah he is.”

“Well being competitive with a third year is really impressive. Imagine how good you’ll be when you are a third year,” you said. Kageyama blushed.

You two finished eating. You cleared the table and put away the dishes.

“We can go up to my room and watch a movie if you want,” you said. You knew it was a bold move to ask him to go to your room but you were home alone and you were convinced nothing would happen. Anyway, it's just Kageyama.

“Yeah that sounds good,” he replied.

You led him up to your room and sat down on your bed. There was probably a foot of space between the two of you. Kageyama sat with his hands in his lap, unsure what to do with them. He didn’t want to make a move just to get rejected. You grabbed the remote to your TV and started to look for something. You searched through the local channels before finding a professional volleyball game that caught Kageyama’s attention. You kept it there. You watched in silence. Kageyama only talked when he had a comment about the game and you just laughed to yourself. You were surprised he had enough energy to stay awake, you were exhausted. Before you realized it, your head was slowly dipping down to meet with Kageyama’s shoulder. Once he felt you, he immediately tensed up. You brought your head back up.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you apologized. Kageyama shook his head.

“No no it's okay. I-I don’t mind,” he said. He moved closer to you so you could better rest your head on him. You put your head back on his shoulder. You could hear his heart beating. He was so nervous. He didn’t want to mess up and even if he did, you wouldn’t have cared. You snuggled yourself onto Kageyama and held onto his arm. You’ve never been more comfortable with anyone before. Kageyama then moved his arm to wrap it around you and you moved your head onto his chest. His heartbeat was at full force but you found it comforting.

“Y/N?” he said suddenly. You lifted your head to look at him. Kageyama looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah?” Kageyama held his breath and leaned in to kiss you. You were taken by surprise but you instantly kissed him back. His lips were shaky and hesitent. You adjusted yourself to better reach him, not once letting your lips depart. Kageyama pulled your leg gently, hinting for you to sit on his lap. You followed suit and moved your legs to be on each side of him. You kissed him more intensely each time. Kageyama moved his hands down onto your hips. You ran your fingers through his soft hair. His breath was hot and so was yours. You have kissed people before but never like this. You’ve never felt like this. Kageyama’s hands were unsteady. He wasn’t sure whether you would be okay with him moving them lower. You could tell he wanted to.

“It's okay,” you said in between breaths. Kageyama slowly started to move his hands onto your ass. He kept his hands there until he decided to flip you onto your back. He hovered above you, using his forearms to prop himself up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You started to tug at his shirt and he got the message. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it across the room. He immediately bent back down to kiss you again. You moved your arms under Kageyama’s to scratch against his back. He let out a faint groan as he grabbed hold of your thigh. You continued to kiss him with everything you had. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was the same Kageyama that could barely say two words to you. Now he seemed to be saying a lot more. Before you knew it, he was pulling your sweater over your head and tossing it on the floor. Kageyama started to move his hand onto your bra. You gasped at his cold touch but it felt so good. His hand rested on the top of the cup of your bra, his other hand still gripped onto your thigh.

“Kags…?” you mumbled out his name in between kisses. This was like music to his ears.

“What is it ba-”

*BUZZ* You both stopped.

“What was that?” you asked.

“Uh I don’t know,” answered Kageyama. You heard the noise again *BUZZ*

“Kags I think it's your phone,” you said. Embarrassment came over Kageyama. The phone buzzed for a third time.

“Y/N I’m so sorry,” Kageyama looked frantic. You chuckled.

“It's okay, just check who it is.” Kageyama got up from on top of you and grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket. You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest to cover yourself up. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for forcing yourself to wear a ‘nicer’ bra when you changed.

“Its three missed calls from Hinita,” he explained. You tried not to laugh.

“Well if he calls again just tell h-” *BUZZ* Kageyama answered the call this time.

“Hinita I swear to god either someone died or-” Kageyama began before Hinita cut him off. You could hear multiple voices talking so you assumed Hinita was with the team.

“Kageyama we just saw Ushijiwaka and he-”

“Hinita leave Kageyama alone he’s with Y/N.”

“KAGEYAMA’S ON A DATE?”

“Hell yeah Tobio, getting that good p-”

“OKAY that's enough,” interrupted Kageyama. It took everything in you not to burst out laughing. “Did you need anything else?”

“Hinita give me the phone...it's Daichi. Hey sorry about him. We’ll leave you two alone. Make good choices and if anything use the-”

“Okay yup thanks bye,” Kageyama hung up the phone and tossed it on the floor. He laid down on his back and sighed.

“I’m so sorry about that.” Kageyama was hiding his red face with his hands. You smiled and scooched towards him, taking his hands and moving them from his face.

“Don’t worry about it, I just didn’t want to get interrupted,” you smirked. You laid down next to him and he put his arm around you. You started to mess with his hair.

“Maybe we should slow down a bit though,” you said. Kageyama turned to look at you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sorry if I got carried away or made you uncomfortable…”

“No, no, not at all,” you sat up, “trust me if I didn’t like something I would tell you.” You moved to sit on his lap. Kageyama sat up to meet you.

“I just would hate for this to be only a...you know… ‘physical’ thing,” you explained.

“Yeah me either and I promise it's not.” Kageyama said reassuringly.

“Same here,” You put your arms around him, bringing him to a hug. He hugged you back.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you looked at him.

“What were you gonna say earlier when, uh, we got interrupted?” asked Kageyama. You tensed up.

“Oh... it’s not important anymore,” you explained. He nodded and went back to holding you tightly.

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#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu tobio #tobio fluff #tobio x you #kageyama #always you. 🌸

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