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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 21

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

NOTE: Again, the third person POV starts after this sign: ✪

Tag: @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Still covered in nothing but sheets, Bucky was sleeping in your arms by the time you woke up. Little snores were coming out from his mouth. You smiled at the fluttering sound and planted a small kiss on the top of his head. You laid there listless, legs still shaking from what happened last night, and mind still clouded by Bucky's past.

Peter's annoying coffee bean grinder started filling your ears. They echoed against the apartment walls. You internally groaned at the sound. You looked on your right to take a peek at the small gaps between the curtains and the window. It was still quite dark out, the sun almost waking up. The time on the clock read 6:00 in red blinking lights. You let out a sigh. Peter hated mornings, more than Garfield hates Mondays. The only logical explanation of him getting up early in the morning and making loud, annoying noises with that old grinder was that he didn't sleep through the night or he woke up too early with too many things in his mind. You wanted to choose the latter. If he didn't get to sleep last night, there was a tiny chance he could've heard you and Bucky — might've even walked right in the middle of a very heated, wild sex between his best friend and his stepbrother, seeing as you stupidly left the door unlocked (by this time, you were already out of bed, your naked body wrapped with a cheap bathrobe you've had with you since your college days).

You made a mental note to yourself to lock the door all the damn time, now that you and Bucky were being careful.

Last night might have not been the best thing you've ever done but it sure felt so good.

You stepped out of your room and approached the kitchen. Peter had his back on you and was just getting a filter paper from the top shelf.

"Good morning, Peter Parker." You said, earning a genuine shock from your best friend. Your voice came out groggier than you'd expected.

He turned around, a filter paper in his hand. "Jesus, y/n Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," you replied, "but it's six in the goddamn morning and you've probably woken up the whole building with your grinder."

He went back on his filter paper, placing it inside the coffee machine. That was probably the most expensive thing he'd ever gotten himself. "I ran out of coffee grounds. I had to make them."

You stayed quiet for a while, leaning against the counter and watching Peter pour the grounds into the filter. You watched as he smoothed the grounds with his finger. After a while, he placed both his hands on the edge of the counter, looking at the coffee drip. The whole time, you prayed to God Bucky didn't stir or make any noise in the bedroom. Thankfully, he didn't. He looked like he would be sleeping for a while, anyway.

Biting your lip, you walked to where Peter was standing and stood beside him. You waited for him to say something — anything about any noises he must've heard from last night but there weren't any. If he did, you'd be dead. You and Bucky would be dead.

Moments have passed. The coffee machine whirred on the table. The coffee pot was almost full. The dull kitchen smell was replaced by the inviting coffee aroma. Then, you found my voice

"I'm not sorry for taking the job, Peter." You started, your voice weak, barely a whisper. "I need it. But I am sorry for not appreciating you and your efforts to help me with my career. You have to know that. It's just... you know I feel about the corporate life — "

"I know, y/n." He cut you off. His gaze was now off the coffee maker but at the tiled wall in front. "I'm sorry for reacting that way. I was just tired from the trip." He faced you. A somber look crossed his face. Even if he was, just as he put it, "tired from the trip", you knew he was still hurt. And the more you looked at his baby-like face, the more you wanted to tell him about you and Bucky. You stifled yourself from doing so in your head.

Baby steps, y/n. Baby steps.

"I am proud of you." He stated. "I always have been. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do, Parker." A smile started to settle on your lips.

"It's one of the reasons why I want you to come work in the company. You've got a business degree, and you're a good photographer. And I'm proud of that. But," he paused, "I don't want to upset us both — especially you — by forcing something on you that you clearly don't want. If you're happy, then I'm happy. That's what matters, y/n."

That was a good opening, right? Usually, that was it: the perfect time to tell him that you were dating Bucky. If I'm happy, then he's happy. End of discussion. But things that don't go as planned also usually don't end up as well as you'd hope. After that, all you could utter was:

"Thank you. I am happy."

"And I trust Sam and Bucky."

You nodded, shying away at the mention of your lover.

Trust. It truly was a big and powerful word. The more you looked at Peter, the more the word "trust" started to blur all around him.

You shook your head, dissipating the thoughts swarming in your mind. "I'm starting today, by the way." You said.

"That's great, y/n." He replied. "And who knows, maybe you'll get bigger clients after this. I know Sam has a lot of connections when it comes to independent business owners. Bucky too! He probably knows a lot of models. Maybe he can help you with it, y'know? I mean, he's already helped."

"Maybe. Let's see." By this time, Peter was already pouring the coffee in his favorite mug. The words "Bucky" and "model" weren't sitting right with you. Was it a hint of jealousy on my end?

"Oh, how's it going with Wanda, by the way?" You asked, stirring the question in a different direction. Albeit liking that Peter was warming up to the idea of Bucky helping you, you didn't want to further the topic anymore as it was making you all shake up.

"She's coming in for a meeting today as well, actually. I really hope it goes well. This is the biggest account we've landed."

"That's good." You replied, nodding. Hoping that she wouldn't get Sharon Carter'd during the meeting. But then again, she was Wanda Maximoff — already known for her unremarkable talent. No one would ever think twice to question what she was capable of.

And who am I compared to her, anyway? You thought.

"So... you're starting today!" Peter exclaimed, stirring his coffee after putting in some milk.

"Yes. I have this pitch presentation for Sam and the team. But there's nothing to worry about. The last meeting went well and Sam and I have The Falcons' best interest." Then you told him about how you butted heads with his assistant, Sharon Carter.

"Oh, she's a Schmidt!" He commented, laughing. "Everyone's got a Schmidt."

You laughed alongside him, reminding yourself to beat Schmidt's ass when you see him.

"Man..." he trailed off. "How Bucky could convince you... it's still a mystery to me. You're kind of a hard shell to crack."

You chuckled nervously, gazing down at the floor. You didn't answer. You didn't know what else to say.

You and Peter chatted for a little while, burying the little hatchet you had. You talked more about the trip he'd had with his colleagues, the shocking truth about Steve's past ("Who knew he could write?"). Here, you made a mental note to yourself to perhaps check some articles he had written in the past. You also hoped some of them were online. By the time you and Peter stopped talking, he had already finished his cup of coffee and the sun was almost all the way up in the New York skies.

Before you even got out of the kitchen, you turned around and asked him one thing: "Hey, you still in love with that girl or did the whole retreat thing help you forget her?"

His back was turned to you once again as he was washing his mug. But his actions stopped once you asked the question. His head tilted. "Very much so."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "Very much in love with her still or..."

He turned around, his eyes meeting yours. "I'm still in love with her. Nothing's changed."

"See." You snorted. "The retreat thing was complete crap. Didn't do you shit. My advice for you? Tell her how you feel."

His eyes averted to the tiled floor, continuously nodding his head. "Perhaps."

With that, you left Peter with his lingering thoughts and wished him good luck. You must admit, the curiosity of who this girl he had been in love with for years was eating you. He was the kind of best friend who practically tells you everything that goes on in his life: all the good ones and the shitty ones. But you counted it fair, knowing that you too were keeping a dirty little secret from him. The only difference was your secret involved someone dear to him; whereas, his involved, perhaps, some girl you haven't even met yet. Maybe he met her in the office. Who knows?

You came back to your room, finding Bucky still asleep in your bed. You locked the door behind. The little snores coming out of his mouth were now gone. You woke him up quietly by kissing his temples and his forehead. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered open and a small curve by the corner of his lips started to show. The sun shone on half of his face, his ocean blue eyes absorbing all the light.

"Good morning, handsome." You whispered, smiling at him.

He chuckled and closed his eyes once more, letting his head dip into the pillow, as if shying away from a compliment. "G'morning." He lazily replied. "Is Peter still out there?"

"Yes, he's getting ready for work. You can go out after he leaves."

He rolled towards you, one arm dangling on your waist. "I don't want to go."

"You have to, silly." You giggled.

He shook his head on your tummy, tickling you. You laughed at the way he behaved. Different from the one you had witnessed last night. You stayed in bed for a little while, just in each other's arms, the silence closing in. It was a comfortable silence. One you could get used to. After what had transpired last night, silence was all you needed. Sometimes, it speaks louder than words could. We listened to each other's heartbeats, the sound of Peter's footsteps a few feet away from us, your shallow breathing, and the ongoing traffic just a few stories below

Then, Bucky broke the silence. "I never noticed how loud the traffic could be."

"It's either you've been living in a jungle or in a penthouse that almost reaches the sky."

"I'd like to live in a jungle." He continued. You prepared for his little ramblings, smiling to the wall in front. "So peaceful and quiet. I'd be swinging on vines to vines to vines like Tarzan. I'd like that."

You wanted to tell him a jungle isn't peaceful and quiet, with wild animals lurking around. But perhaps, compared to the human world, it was peaceful. Humans are behaving more like animals these days — or worse than them, even worse than the wild ones. But you liked that he was comfortable enough to tell you all the little weird things that were going on inside his head, all the good and bad, all the big and small. Things he had never uttered to others.

Perhaps it was good that the child in him was still there. At least he still sees the beauty in the world.

His phone vibrated somewhere on the floor, making your thoughts dissipate. He quickly picked it up as soon as he saw the caller ID.

"I have to go, doll." He sighed after talking to whoever was on the other line, picking up his boxers and his pants. You tilted your head to the side as he bent down, subconsciously biting your lower lip. "Tony's in the penthouse."

"Stark?" You frowned. "What's he doing in there?"

He pulled his shirt over his head. By this time, Peter had just finished showering. The water in the bathroom had just stopped dripping. "I'm about to find out."

"Peter's still out there. How are you gonna go out?"

His eyes moved to the closed window in front of him. "The same way I got in last night."

I raised your eyebrows, standing up. "In broad daylight? When people could see you? You're crazy."

"Well baby, I'm crazy for you and I see nothing wrong with that." He smirked, making his way towards you. "What's one more crazy thing to do?" He sped towards the window and quietly opened it, letting a cold breeze inside the room. His foot was just outside the window when you grabbed him and placed your mouth on his.

"Thanks for telling me about your past last night." You said, pulling away. It needed to be said. Now, you felt that you knew him better, knew the deep parts of himself he had been keeping, rather than the parts you already know about him. "I really appreciate it."

A soft smile landed on his lips. His hand caressing your jaw. "Thanks for listening, doll."

Then, he climbed down the fire escape, vanishing like Aladdin on his magic carpet.

The inviting smiles of the marketing team invited you into the conference room (the same one as last week) as soon as they saw you walk in. With your head held high, red lips, stilettos, and a bunch of papers and a laptop in hand, you shook all their hands with your free one, introducing yourself. Your eyes landed on Sharon who just gave you a nod. You turned around and fixed all the things you needed for your pitch on the table and felt a bit sad about you and Sharon's little exchange.

You were the only women in the room. The least you guys could do was to back each other up but clearly, it wasn't the way she usually goes. Or maybe she just really hated your guts.

While waiting for Sam to arrive, you practiced the speech you've had prepared a few days ago in your head as you skimmed the slides you prepared — all the color schemes, the tones, the framing, everything were on there.

Sharon approached you hesitantly. You looked up and gave her a questioning look, your fingers suspended in mid-air against the touchpad of your laptop.

"Barnes not coming with you today?"

"No." You briefly replied.

You went back to your presentation but Sharon didn't budge. She just stood there, looking down on you. "Can I help you with something or are you just gonna stand there?"

"You're not so bad, Ms. y/l/n." She said, startling you.

"What?"

"I saw your online portfolio." She answered. "You're good. I mean, you're no Maximoff but yeah, I guess you have potential. You just need a bit of push and the right audience."

You looked back up, giving her a small smile. Albeit the backhanded slap, it was the nicest thing she had ever said to you since day one. "Thank you."

"I'm looking forward to what you might bring to The Falcons."

"And I as well."

Sam arrived a bit later, having had some problems with the shipment of the next batch. You asked if this was going to be a problem in the production for the shoot but assured you and everyone else that it wouldn't be. Not anymore.

Bucky sent you a short text message right before you started the pitch, attached with a photo of him in a black hoodie with an unamused expression crossing his face. The hood perfectly framed his face in a weird way.

The day got dragged in seconds. Even though your pitch presentation about the production and post-production of the photos ended in a New York minute, with no further questions asked (surprisingly), the interview with the countless models and athletes took longer than you thought. Some even flirted with you (and not so subtle, you might as well add) to get the job. That alone just said a little too much of their work ethic and professionalism — which none of them had.

"She's taken, buddy." Sam glared at the model right across from you. "Move along now."

We watched the Australian model get up with a huff, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

"I could've taken care of that, y'know." You sneered. "I don't need you looking out for me when Bucky's not around."

He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes on the papers lined up on the table. Beside you, Sharon was scribbling something on a piece of paper, double checking all the resumes, and couldn't care less about your conversation.

"Bitch please. I ain't looking out for you, kid. I'm looking out for Bucky."

"Sure, you are." You smiled, your eyes following the next model entering Sam's office. "Admit it, you care about me."

"Ha! You wish." His body language did say exactly that but his smiling eyes said otherwise.

The series of interviews went well after that, less people flirted. If not with you, with Sam and Sharon as well. Despite that, you've met people from different walks of life; people with stories to show and tell through photographs, stories worth telling, people who have been through success and failure, who have been marginalized by people who think of themselves as superior beings, people who are still finding purpose in life. And this is what you adored in this project and what you loved about photography. It was more than making money, more than a business, more than a face. It's all about the stories behind. And you couldn't wait to capture these stories in your lenses once you've chosen the twenty models and athletes.

After the long interview, you bid goodbye to Sam and Sharon, thanking them for the time and the work you've had today. To your surprise, you saw Sharon curve up a small smile as she shook your hand. Maybe you'd get along after all. Who knew?

You hailed a yellow cab in front of Sam's building and went straight to the bar, texting Bucky that you were on your way. You smiled, sitting closer by the window, looking up at the sunset hues in the sky. Now, whenever you looked at the sunset, all you could think of was Bucky.

As you looked above, some striking letters caught your eye: Stark Industries. The biggest, most famous business franchise there ever was not just in New York but in America. Tony Stark had hotels, restaurants, clubs -- you bet there wasn't something he hadn't owned yet.

Upon getting at the bar, Bucky was already sitting on the high stool by the counter. You were getting ready to hug him from behind but seeing Peter get out from the toilet stopped you. Instead, you went for a small smile and a wave. You would've killed to hug him and kiss him after a long day.

Nat wasn't around for her shift tonight, so it was just Nick and the other guys going around for orders. You wondered if Steve too was around or not but it looked like he wasn't. Well, that explains things. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together.

The bar's atmosphere was different without Nat around. Everyone was nice.

"Hey, it's Miss Big-Shot!" Even Nick was nice. "What can I get for ya?"

You ordered a non-alcoholic drink while telling Peter and Bucky how things went through today, secretly wishing it was just you and Bucky. You would've been sitting close together, thighs grazing each other, fingers brushing against each other under the counter, like a couple morphing into one entity.

You secretly kept glancing at Bucky, wondering what was in his mind, wondering if he too wished the same thing you had wished for, wondering if he would kiss me every chance he'd get to. You weren't a big fan of the whole PDA thing but when it came to Bucky, you'd let him do anything to you anytime, anywhere.

After you told them how your day went, you decided to ask a stupid question: "Oh hey, Bucky, how'd it go with Tony?"

Silence filled the counter. Bucky's eyes filled with horror while Peter shot you a questioning look. Then, he looked at Bucky. "You saw Mr. Stark today?" Then, back at you. "Wait, ho-how did you know about that?"

It was a good thing you were quick to think off the top of your head. "Bucky and I ran to each other in Manhattan and I asked how he was doing and then he told me about it! Right, Bucky?"

"That's it!" He replied, smiling awkwardly. "We did and yes, I told her."

"Aw, man. Mr. Stark never answers my phone calls or messages." Peter pouted. "What did you guys talk about?"

Bucky shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "Business stuff. He says he wants me to be more... present. You know how he is."

But Peter didn't seem to mind about Bucky's reply. "How come he doesn't call me?"

"Oh my god, Parker, are you jealous?" You laughed, nudging his shoulder.

"Well, he never calls me!"

"Aw, is daddy too busy for his little boy?" You joked, pinching his cheeks which he slapped away.

"Ew, don't call him that!" Peter exclaimed, playfully glaring at you. "And he's not my dad! He's his dad!" He pointed at Bucky with his thumb."

"I'm adopted."

"Which technically means he's your dad." He replied. "Did he say anything about me?"

"No, not really." Bucky chuckled at Peter's whining, putting a hand on his shoulder, as if reassuring him. "Don't worry, kid. We'll go pay him a little visit and you can curse him out if you want. I'll be happy to back you up."

"Oohh, I can never do that to Mr. Stark."

"Why not?" You asked. "He's not your father. I say go curse him out."

"He's Tony Stark!" He exclaimed. "You'd be crazy to do that."

"You are such a baby, Parker." You groaned.

"I know." Peter smirked. "That's why women find me adorable."

"Gross." You cringed at him, throwing a cashew nut to his face. "Never ever say that again."

After about an hour of catching up, you three went to the apartment, the awkward silence during the elevator ride killing you each passing second.

You and Bucky stood behind Peter as he struggled to open the door, a little too close for Peter's liking (if he could see us now). Bucky slowly hooked his pinky with yours. You looked at him with a small smile on your face, then down at your pinkies hooked together.

They looked like a little knot on a string.

Bucky looked straight ahead, a sly smile playing on his lips as his hand moved from your hand to your ass. You slightly jumped at the contact, a small blush covering your cheeks. He removed it immediately when Peter managed to open the door after mumbling a few profanities under his breath. You quietly whimpered at the absence of Bucky's touch.

You went straight to your room after that, leaving Bucky and Peter in the living room. While changing, you noticed a gift-wrapped box sitting on your bed. It was a sleek black medium-sized box, adorned with a thick black ribbon, and thin silver ribbons. You frowned at it as you unbuttoned your blouse. You brushed your hand against the ribbon, looking for a note but there was none.

Once you put on some house clothes, you sat on the bed and carefully opened the box. You gasped as you carried the lid. Inside was the Nikon D850 — exactly what you've been wanting — and three different lenses, each with a different purpose.

"Bucky, you son of a bitch." You mumbled, adoring the equipment laid out on the bed.

On the bottom of the box, was a little white note that read:

For the most talented person I know.

Yours,

You glanced at the door as you heard Bucky's laugh echoing against the apartment walls and immediately got out of your room. Peter was already walking to his room to change, leaving you and Bucky in the living room.

"You're welcome, doll." He whispered.

You wasted no time to push him towards the kitchen, and trapped him on the counter, your lips already smashing his. "You don't know how much I've wanted to do that since I saw you at the bar." You breathed out.

"Oh trust me," a quick peck on the lips, "I know."

"Bucky, the gift — "

"Is not too much."

"I was going to say I appreciate it." You smirked. "I think I know you well enough now not to say those kinds of things. But — "

He groaned, throwing his head back. "No buts, baby, please. Unless it's your butt." Then he, the cheeky guy he was, moved his hands on your ass, squeezing them.

"But..." You placed his hands back on your waist, giving him a look. "You don't have to do this all the time, okay?"

"I'm not making any promises."

"James, I mean it."

"Y/n." He smirked. "I mean it too."

"You're never gonna stop, aren't you?" You sighed, gazing into his eyes.

"You know me well enough to answer that question yourself. Now, what do you say when you've received something from me?"

"That's not fair. When you give it to me," you pushed your crotch against his, earning a slight groan from his end, "I normally don't say thank you. How come I should say it now?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "You're really something else. You know that, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "The amount of times you've told me that, Bucky, I swear — "

Then, he shut you up by kissing you softly on the lips. "Where's my thank you?"

You giggled, pressing against him harder. "How about I say thank you in a different way? How's that sound?"

"Right here? Doll, y'know I'm not one for a quickie. If I want to fuck you — "

The sound of Peter's door opening made you jump off Bucky faster than the speed of light. Peter entered the kitchen as you pretended to grab something from the fridge.

"So... this was nice." Bucky said, peeling himself away from the counter. "But I have to go. It's getting kind of dark now plus Howard's waiting for me downstairs."

You watched as Bucky and Peter exchanged their goodbyes by the door, and watched your lover walk away from you without a short hug.

As soon as you went back to your room, your phone rang. You immediately picked it up seeing Bucky's name on the screen.

"If I want to fuck you — and trust me, I always want to — I'd be doing it all day, all night. My place tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you, my little devil."

And with that, you laid on your bed, together with Bucky's gifts, with the thought of Bucky pleasuring you in all ways possible running through your head.

✪

Steve Rogers strode in the mirrored hallways of the Stark industries with Jarvis right beside him, dreading for this spontaneous meet to end. Keeping his head low, he asked Jarvis:

"What does Stark want from me now, Jarvis?"

Jarvis gave him a side-glance, not uttering a single word.

"Oh come on, now." Steve looked at the blonde beside him. "Don't be shy. Usually, you have the right words to say."

But Jarvis didn't budge. He knew Tony well enough not to talk to Steve. Besides, it wasn't any of his business. He was just Tony's little errand boy -- alright, perhaps errand boy was a bit degrading. His... assistant. Someone who does the dirty work for the boss.

"The silent treatment? Really?"

Jarvis internally groaned. Steve didn't use to talk that much back in the good old days. Almost reaching Tony's office, Jarvis showed him the way but Steve stopped him.

"Yeah, yeah. I know where it is." Steve huffed.

"Very well, then."

"Oh, now you talk." Steve said, stopping right outside Tony's tall metallic doors. Jarvis offered him utter silence. "Always a pleasure, Vis."

Tony Stark sat on his cushioned throne, trailing a little yellow cab with his fingers, as if playing with toy cars. Once he heard the door close behind him, he turned around and met Steve's cold blue eyes.

"Mr. Rogers." Tony acknowledged, eyeing Steve from his head to his feet. "Please, sit down."

"I won't be long."

"I'm afraid that's not for you to tell." Tony's voice was firm. Authoritative. Something Steve never missed. "We have much to discuss."

Steve sighed, defeated. He had no other choice but to sit across from the jerk.

"If you're here to tell me to shut up about that thing you don't want Bucky to know, don't worry, I will."

"So..." Tony trailed off, pulling himself closer to his table. "You know that I know."

"It was more of a guess." He replied, frowning. "But knowing you, I just knew it to be true."

"Alright," Tony exhaled, minding Steve's cockiness, "let's cut to the chase here. Your little bar? Captain Brews? I want to buy it."

"No."

Tony was taken aback by Steve's swift answer but he didn't show it. People always said yes to Tony. Always. "I'm afraid that word isn't a part of my vocabulary."

"See, that's where we differ 'cause in mine, it is." Steve answered, keeping his voice strong and steady. "I don't want anything to do with you. I did everything you told me to. Leave me and my bar alone."

"How much do you want for it?"

"What?"

"Ten million? Fifteen?"

Steve scoffed, biting his lower lip. "I told you, I won't tell Bucky what I know. I've burned all the papers, all the articles, all the drafts. There's no evidence left. Buying the bar just to have your strings on me won't do you any good, Stark. I won't allow it. You've already had my word before, right? What's one more?"

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kpophours · 4 years

Text

Haven

➵ Stray Kids: Jisung x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, frenemies to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 6k

It’s not even 8am, and your eyes feel as dry as sandpaper while your head is pounding with a slight migraine. You’re currently getting everything ready for the crowd of caffeine addicts that will soon arrive at the café you work at. It’s way too early to deal with the horde of zombies called students, but you got stuck with the worst shift of the day - starting at 7.30am which, in your opinion, is just inhuman. Stupid Minho and his stupid luck whenever it comes to drawing straws. For some reason, you always end up getting the shortest one. At least you’ll be done with work before most people your age have even made it out of bed. Still, right now you’d give almost everything to be back in your blanket burrito. Earning money is hard and annoying. If you’ve ever wondered if working at a café could ruin the beauty of coffee… the answer is yes. Because capitalism destroys everything, leaving no survivors.

“Good morning, Y/N!”, your co-worker and the other unlucky one having drawn one of the shorter straws chirps when she enters the café, and you grimace - Sana’s voice is way too cheerful so early in the morning. You only give her a curt nod of your head, not in the mood to talk right now. You’re not really in the mood to do anything, if you’re being honest. Ugh, you hate the morning shift. You’re currently 80% tired, but 20% also tired - you don’t even remember what it’s like to not be tired anymore. College is great!

Sana doesn’t seem to mind your grumpiness though, being the sweetheart that she simply is, and begins to wipe the counter while humming a cheery song under her breath. It’s only her second week at work, but so far she’s proven to be a better and more reliable part-timer than the last three who had worked here. Jun is usually a nice and caring boss, but he has some strict rules - always be on time, no drinking coffee while you’re working, don’t take more breaks than necessary, and don’t give out free drinks to your friends. The last three part-timers had broken at least one of these rules, so Jun had let them go again. Sana is doing well so far, and you think that Jun has maybe even taken a liking to her - not that you can blame him, she’s not only super nice and a general sunshine, but also incredibly beautiful and funny. You’re always happy whenever you work a shift with her. She’s a student like yourself, and wants to become a kindergarten teacher. You’d never let your children near her though, too scared they’d like her more than you - not that you could actually blame them. “Shall I put on some music?”, Sana asks after she’s finished with wiping everything down, and you just nod, finally being done with prepping the giant coffee machines. Just seconds later, smooth lounge music fills the cozy space of the café, and you inhale deeply.

Maybe you lied earlier. Capitalism did not destroy coffee for you, you still very much love the scent, taste, and especially the effect of it. You check the time, noticing you still have about 15 minutes left before you have to open the café - meaning you have more than enough time to enjoy a nice cup of coffee with Sana. She immediately agrees to drink a cappuccino with you, and just minutes later, you bask in the fresh scent of grounded coffee beans. Sana sighs deeply after having taken the first sip, and gives you a bright smile. “Heavenly. You truly make the best coffee out of all of us, Y/N!”, she compliments you, and you tilt your head to one side. Thanks to the caffeine in your system, you’re finally ready to talk to her now. “Well, if my academic brilliance proves futile, I can always become the best barista in the world, I guess. And by the way, don’t let Minho hear you say that, or he’ll force you to taste all the coffee he makes, resulting in you overdosing on caffeine. You know what he‘s like.”, you answer, and Sana giggles. “Well, I stand with what I said, and I’ll even say it to his face. He needs to learn that he can’t always be the best at everything.” You raise one eyebrow, lips twitching. “No offense, but I don’t think he’s ever been the best at anything so far, he’s just very good at pretending. He basically invented the phrase “fake it till you make it”.”

Before Sana can reply, there’s a knock against one of the café’s windows. Surprised, you look up, and groan when you see a familiar face staring back at you. “What is he doing here?!”, you grumble, and place your mug on the counter, not moving a single muscle. But Sana, being her nice and angelic self, is already walking towards the door of the café, and before you can protest, she’s already unlocked it. Jisung jumps over the threshold, sporting a bright grin. He greets Sana with a hug, before sliding his giant headphones off his ears. “Moooorning.”, he says, with at least five Os. You’re already annoyed. You’ve known Jisung for… well. For a long time. Too long, some would say (you, for example). Your moms have been close friends since their own college years, and while they thankfully didn’t move into the same neighborhood, they ended up living quite close to each other. Meaning Jisung had been there for pretty much you entire childhood and teenage years - at every single one of your birthday parties, at most Christmases, and sometimes even at Easter (even though neither of your families really celebrated Easter). You’ve also gone on hiking trips together, and on wildlife expeditions, and on holidays by the seaside… In almost all your memories, there’s Jisung.

“Ugh, why are you so obsessed with me?”, you whine when he leans over the counter to grab your mug and take a sip of your coffee, “There are literally hundreds of colleges and you had to go choose the one I’m attending?!” He grins, puffing out his stupidly adorable hamster cheeks. “I’d never be so cruel and rid you of my pleasant company, my dearest Y/N.”, he answers, dark eyes sparkling with humor. You just huff and turn around. “The usual?”, you ask in a flat voice, and he hums in confirmation. To say you hate Jisung would be a severe overstatement, you just often strongly... dislike him. And feel annoyed whenever he’s around. Mostly because he’s a walking disaster, who kinda thinks the world revolves around him (you blame him being an only child for that). One of your most vivid and probably also traumatic childhood memories is of your sixth birthday party: you had gotten a brand new, soft green bicycle, falling in love with it as soon as you laid eyes on it. Naturally, you had wanted to take it around the block for a little test drive, but all of the sudden, Jisung had thrown a big tantrum until your mom had made you give him the bike first. And being the clumsy child that he simply was (and kinda still is), he had crashed your beautiful new bike into a tree. The tree had won that battle, the handle bar completely bent, same with the front wheel. So you and your bike had been a very short love story with a tragic ending. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on you. And this instance has only been one of many - Jisung had also accidentally sat on your birthday cake once (till this day, you have no idea how he’d even managed to do that). He had also ruined one of your favorite jumpers by dumping ink all over it, had tipped over the canoe when you’d been happily paddling on a lake one summer day, and had given you a black eye when you went mini golfing for your eleventh birthday.

So Han Jisung has always been - and probably will always be - a walking disaster. Being his friend means you have a “Why is he like that” moment at least five times a day. Your biggest fear at the moment is that he’s accidentally going to sit on your brand new laptop and break it, the one you had been saving up for for over two years. And then you’ll just have to kill him which will probably make his very nice mom very sad. But as the bible clearly states: an eye for an eye, a life for a laptop. Or maybe he’s just going to set your whole apartment on fire - he’s truly a mess inside the kitchen, you sadly know that from experience (note to self: never try to bake cookies with Jisung ever again). Your old dorm kitchen will probably never recover from that one particular incident that ended with half the building having to be evacuated. This is one of the reasons why Jisung hasn’t been at your new place yet. The second one being that you also only just moved into it a few weeks ago. Ever since moving, he’s been pestering you though, asking you to have a movie night with him at your new place. Like you said, he’s kinda obsessed with you. He also literally spends every morning at the café you work at - or well, you just assume it’s every morning. As you’re a part timer, you don’t actually have to work every single morning, but he’s definitely always here when you have drawn one of the short straws again.

You quickly busy yourself with making a flat white for Jisung, his preferred drink of choice, while he continues to chat with Sana. They know each other thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, Chan - he’s one of Jisung’s roommates as well as Sana’s best friend. Everyone on campus knows Chan: he’s on the student council, he plays for the baseball team, and he’s one of the most promising music majors you’ve ever seen (or well, heard), already being scouted by different labels even though he’s not even a senior yet. And he’s also just so nice and down to earth, truly a prime example of a man. Jisung should really take a leaf out of Chan’s book.

“Here you go.”, you say while sliding Jisung’s finished order his way, taking your own mug out of his hands while doing so. You quickly shake your head when he wants to hand you his credit card, and he shoots you a happy smile. Jun would probably fire you instantly if he knew about this, but not once have you let Jisung pay for his coffee - and you’ve been working here for almost four months now. You try to ignore the way your stomach jolts when Jisung locks eyes with you, but fail miserably. So maybe he has the most beautiful smile in the whole world, and maybe his eyes hold entire galaxies in them, but what about it? It’s not like you even really like him, right?

You turn around and pretend to wipe down the coffee machine, but in reality, you just don’t want to look at Jisung’s cute hamster cheeks anymore, because they just make you want to squish them. And you have a reputation to lose. “Well, I’m off to my lecture now - I hope your day will be pleasant, ladies!”, Jisung finally says, and you turn around, catching him giving you a mock salute and mischievous wink. You just wave at him, while Sana wishes him a good day as well. As soon as the door falls close behind him again, you exhale. You really need to get a grip on yourself.

It’s Friday night, and there’s a party at Jisung’s frat house. At first, you don’t want to go, but your roommate Amber basically drags you with her. You know she’s only going because she has the biggest crush on Chan, and you honestly can’t even blame her - half the girls on campus have a crush on him after all, and at least a third of the guys. But while Amber and Chan are good friends, nothing more has ever been going on between them - not yet, that is. Who knows, maybe tonight’s finally the night.

You’re currently sipping on some stale beer Seungmin - one of Jisung’s roommates - had handed you the second you stepped over the threshold of the frat house, scanning the room for people you know. Amber is off to greet some friends from her architecture class, so you’re on your own for now. Which is fine, you don’t really mind just standing in the corner to observe the other guests, it’s actually highly entertaining. For example, there’s one guy twerking like crazy to some Beyoncé song. You think his name is Kevin and he’s in your calc class. A friend of his is currently hyping him up like crazy, while another one with green dyed hair is clearly wishing he was somewhere entirely else. You honestly can’t blame him, the secondhand-embarrassment way too real. A few seconds later, Sana enters the room with a group of girls, and she happily waves at you as soon as she spots you. You simply return her smile, before continuing to watch Kevin.

“Enjoying the show?”, someone beside you suddenly asks, and you jump, dumping some of your beer over your shirt. “Oh fuck you!”, you yelp, and turn around to glare at Minho’s shit-eating grin, “You definitely scared me on purpose!” “Fuck... me? Absolutely, just name the time and place, babe.”, he answers, and you smack his chest. “Not even in your wildest dreams, Lee.”, you reply, and narrow your eyes at him. He pouts playfully. “I just think we’d make a really great couple.”, he argues, and you shake your head. “Well, society should be able to limit what some people are allowed to think, then.”, you retort, voice flat, and he ruffles your hair. “You know what I love about you? You’re kinda mean and annoying, but unapologetically so.”, he says, and you raise one eyebrow. “I might be kinda mean and annoying, but at least my lock screen isn’t a selfie.” At this, Minho gasps dramatically, and protectively clutches his phone to his chest. “I mean, I could always change it to one of your selfies, you know?”, he then suggests, making you groan. He’s clearly drunk already or else he wouldn’t be flirting like this. If this sad attempt can even be considered flirting, it’s probably just him being his annoying and arrogant Scorpio self. Minho sighs deeply. “When will you finally accept my eternal love for you, Y/N?”, he asks, and tries to grab one of your hands, but you just smack him again. “Maybe when you finally stop cheating at drawing straws! I have the Monday morning shift again!”, you hiss, and he smirks. “You’ll never know my secret.”, he says smugly, and empties his cup in one single gulp.

You begin to pout and take a sip from your own cup, eyes wandering towards where Kevin is still throwing it back on the dance floor. “If I ever do something remotely like that, just take me out, and instantly.”, you say, an exasperated expression on your face. “On a date or with a sniper?”, a familiar voice on your other side suddenly asks, and you sigh internally. “Han.”, you greet your favorite frenemy, and Jisung grins while wrapping one arm around your shoulder. “Nice to see you accepted my invite.”, he says, and you quickly duck out of his embrace, trying to ignore your racing heart. Minho just wiggles his eyebrows at you, before flashing you a shit-eating grin and disappearing from view. Traitor.

“I only came because Amber asked me to.”, you explain, and stand on your tiptoes to look for your friend. Seriously, where did she even go?! It’s been at least 15 minutes since she left you on your own. “You can just admit that you missed my handsome face, you know.”, Jisung says, and you snort. “Yeah, whatever you say, hamster boy.” He groans, ruffling his hair with one hand and making it stand on end. You desperately suppress the need to flatten it again, and quickly take another sip of your beer. “Don’t you get tired of using that old nickname? Plus, my cheeks aren’t as chubby anymore! I have finally lost all my baby fat, the glow up we’ve all been desperately waiting for!”, he says, and you suppress a smile, looking him up and down. “I guess some people would agree that you don’t look bad.”, you finally reply, and ignore the way your heart flutters when he shoots you a wide grin. “Aww, you old softie, I knew you actually liked me.”, he says, lovingly punching your shoulder. You grimace, rubbing the spot he hit - you know he and Chan have started to work out recently, and apparently, Jisung doesn’t know his own strength anymore. “Now don’t get all sappy on me, just because I might have erased your name out of my death note.”, you reply, quickly draining your cup to hide your blush, and mumble something about getting a new drink before basically running away from him. When you enter the kitchen, you exhale deeply. Your hands are shaking, your heart is racing and you know the blush is still very prominent on your cheeks.

So yeah, maybe you’re kinda a bit in love with Han Jisung. He might be a complete mess, but he’s also funny, hard-working, intelligent and something close to a musical genius. And yeah, maybe you absolutely adore his stupid hamster cheeks, bright smile and beautiful dark chocolate eyes. You close your eyes for a few seconds, groaning internally. You don’t want to be in love with Han Jisung! There is literally no other person you want to be less in love with. Okay, except for Lee Minho, simply because you just couldn’t bring yourself to ever date a Scorpio, no offense. But Han Jisung is at least a close second!

You can’t even say when you first began to develop these kinds of feelings for him. After graduating high school, you had finally realized how much you’d actually miss Jisung’s constant presence once you had to go off to different colleges. You’re almost embarrassed to admit how your heart had leaped when he told you he’d actually be going to the same college as you. Maybe you had truly just always kind of loved him - him and his weird antics. He’s always been himself, and unapologetically so. In the modern world of snapchat filters, snow apps and facetune, he’s always felt real to you.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts, and groan again. After you’ve refilled your red party cup, you drown it in a few gulps, repeating the process a few times. Drowning your feelings might not be the responsible thing to do just now, but well, you’re only in your early twenties, so you still have lots of time to become a more responsible adult in the future.

Half an hour later, you have probably drunk way too much beer and are also still trying to figure out where Amber has gone. So you finally decide to go search for her, noticing that for some reason, the floor seems to tilt a bit with every step you take. “Weeeeird.”, you mumble, squinting your eyes, “That’s new.” Just then, you manage to walk into someone, soaking their entire backside with your beer. The person yelps loudly, before turning around to glare at you. Your brain needs a few seconds to recognizes the handsome face, and when it finally does, you give him a bright smile while slurring “Hyunjiiiiiin.”, squishing his face between your hands. The boy turns from annoyed to alarmed, and pries your hands from his face while narrowing his eyes at you. “Okay, what and how much did you drink, Y/N?!” Your smile gets even wider. “Only the best kind of alcohol, which is a lot!” Hyunjin just groans and begins to look around for someone. “Where is Han when you need him?!” With that, he wraps one arm around your waist to pull you with him and through the crowd. You hold onto him like your life depends on it - and the way the floor is swaying from side to side right now, it truly just might. You make a disgusted sound when your hand touches Hyunjin’s soaked shirt. “You’re wet, do you know that?”, you mumble, head lulling around until Hyunjin gently guides it to rest against his shoulder. “Yeah, surprisingly I do.”, he says, but in your current state, his sarcasm gets totally lost on you. “You should change, it’s freezing outside, and we don’t want you to catch a cold!”, you tell him off, and he groans, half amused, half exasperated. “I promise I will change as soon as I’ve found Han.”

You raise both eyebrows at that. “Why do you need to find Jisung? Does he have clothes for you?” Just then, Hyunjin seems to find the desired person, sighing in relief. “Hey, Han! I think your girlfriend has had a little bit too much to drink tonight.”, he yells over the music, and you frown. “His girlfriend? Since when does Jisung have a girlfriend?! And why hasn’t he told me about her?! I’m his oldest friend! Like, not old in the sense of actually being old, but in the sense of time spent toge-”, before you can ramble on, Hyunjin basically shoves you into Jisung’s outstretched arms. “Here, she’s your responsibility now! Take her home or whatever. I’m gonna go change.”, he says curtly, before turning around and marching off. You wave at his retreating backside, before you look up at Jisung, who sports a very confused expression. “Uh, what exactly happened?”, he asks, taking in your glossy eyes, flushed cheeks and lopsided smile, “Shit, are you drunk?! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk!” He actually looks amazed, and you can’t help but ruffle his dark hair. It feels silky when it slips through your fingers, and you giggle to yourself. “Nice.”, you murmur, before you glare at him, “So, you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me about her?! That’s rather rude, you know? We’re friends, after all! The oldest friends ever! I tell you almost everything.” Jisung just blinks a few times, before he shakes his head in disbelief. “Uh, okay, maybe I should bring you home.”, he murmurs, and wraps his arms even tighter around your waist, “Where’s your stuff?” You shrug while snuggling closer to him to bury your face in the crook of his neck. He yelps, and freezes for a few seconds, before he sighs and drags you towards one of the sofas. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be back in a second.”, he murmurs softly, and tugs some of you hair behind your ear. You lean into his touch, and close your eyes while nodding. The last thing you hear is his low chuckle.

Bright sunlight greets you the second you try to open your eyes. You groan and decide it’s better to just close them again. Seeing is overrated anyway, especially when your head is pounding like crazy. Mh, maybe you did drink a little bit too much yesterday.

“Are you alive? Groan once for yes, twice for no.”

You truly love your roommate, but right now, you’re prepared to throw her out the window as her voice cuts through your hazy state like a knife. Still, you manage to groan once.

“Okay, good. There’s water on your bedside table, and some aspirin. Take it.”

For the second time this morning (or midday, you honestly have no idea what time it is), you try to open your eyes, just a teeny tiny bit. Still half blind, you carefully fumble for said things on your bedside table. After taking the aspirin and drinking some water, you sigh in relief and fall back into your pillows. “You were really out of it yesterday, huh? Any reason for drinking for at least three people?”, Amber asks, her voice laced with quiet humor. You just grumble something unintelligible, and she chuckles. “Do you remember who brought you home?”

You finally turn around to look at her, raising one eyebrow. “... You?”, you guess, and she presses her lips together to try and stifle her shit-eating grin - she fails though. “Nope. I was kinda busy.”, she just answers, a smug expression on her face. You finally manage to sit up, ruffling your messy bed hair. “Busy doing what? Now that I think of it, I remember you were gone from my side the second we stepped foot inside the frat house. Talk about loyalty.” You try not to sound too offended, but while you don’t remember much from last night, you do remember that you spent some time looking for it, but in vain. “Chan.”, Amber just answers, and you squeal - regretting it a split second later when a sharp pain shoots through your head. “Remind me to never make that noise again while I’m nursing a hangover.”, you say, holding your head between your hands, and Amber giggles. “Noted. But yeah, Chan and I… well. Let’s just say we had a good night.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you return her grin. “Well, congrats, then! You snatched the Bang Chan, props to you.” Her smile softens, and she sighs dreamily. “He even asked me on a date afterwards. So we’re going out to get some pasta tonight.”, she tells you, and your smile gets even bigger. “I’m so happy for you, Amber. He’s a really great guy, and you deserve a really great guy.”, you say gently, and she nods. “Damn right I do. But speaking of a really great guy - Jisung was actually the one to bring you home last night.”, she explains, grinning smugly when she sees your shocked expression. “He did what now?!”, you ask, not ready to believe her, at least not yet. Amber leans back on her elbows, obviously enjoying this way too much. “Well, after you drank about half the alcohol the boys bought for the party, you decided to give Hyunjin a beer shower, who immediately realized it was definitely time to get you home, so he went searching for Jisung who then brought you to our apartment. No idea what happened after you left the frat house though, I only got to know about this because Hyunjin told Chan who told me.”

You bury your face in your pillow and let out a long, miserable noise. You sound a bit like a dying whale which makes Amber laugh. “Ah, come on, it’s not that bad. You and Jisung are friends after all, I’m sure he saw you drunk lots of times already!”

You shake your head.

“Wait, he hasn’t?!”

“Nope. I very rarely get drunk, and it’s not like Jisung and I are actual friends like that - friends who take care of each other and so on, you know?”, you try to explain, and Amber frowns. “What do you mean? Y/N, you and Jisung have known each other since forever, you hang out constantly, and you always talk about him with endless adoration - well, and a bit of annoyance too, to be fair. But what do you mean you’re not friends “like that”?!” You blink at her, surprise written all over your face. “I don’t talk about him with endless adoration!”, you disagree. Amber just gives you a very long, hard look, and you begin gnawing at your lip. “I… do?”, you ask in a small voice, and she nods. “You talk to him every day, Y/N, and you talk about him even more. It would be annoying if it weren’t also extremely cute.”, she replies, and begins filing her nails, lips twitching while she watches you trying to digest what she’s just told you. “I guess… I should at least message him to thank him for bringing me home.”

“And for tucking you into bed.”

You groan and throw your pillow at Amber. She catches it and laughs. “What, you looked very cozy and all snuggled up when I came home! And I doubt you yourself did that, at least if Hyunjin told the truth about the amount of alcohol you consumed yesterday.”

You look yourself up and down, noticing that you’re not wearing your clothes from last night anymore, but your favorite pj’s, the ones with little succulents on it. “Does this mean…”, you whisper, but shake your head, “Nope, not even going there. I’m way too sleep-deprived and hangover to deal with any of that right now.” Amber grins and shrugs. “Just go ask Jisung, I’m sure he can fill you in on everything.” You groan again, and fall back onto your bed. “I’ll have to take a shower first.”, you mumble, and close your eyes again. “Yes, please do, you reek of stale beer.” And with that, your roommate throws your pillow back at you.

It’s already about to get dark again when you arrive at the frat house, nervously bouncing on your feet for a few seconds before you finally gather the courage to knock on the front door. You quickly stuff your hands back into the pockets of your leather jacket, gnawing at your lower lip while waiting for someone to open the door. Just a few minutes later, Hyunjin’s tired face greets you. He raises both eyebrows when he lays eyes on you, immediately noticing your nervous expression. “Hi.”, you say, and give him a small smile. He leans against the doorframe, and crosses both arms over his chest. “Hi yourself. You actually look less zombie-like than expected.” You roll your eyes. “Thanks, today’s look is inspired by sleep deprivation and a mean hangover. Water and aspirin helped though, or else I could have auditioned for The Walking Dead.”, you grumble, “And uh… Thanks for yesterday, by the way. I’m really sorry about your shirt, I heard I dumped beer all over it.” Hyunjin cracks a smile at that, and shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s fine. The washing machine will take care of that. Wanna come in?”, he asks, and you nod, quickly following him inside the warmth of the parlor.

Surprisingly, the house looks clean and tidy again - the guys must have spent the entire day getting rid of last night’s mess. You’re actually impressed. “Han is in his room.”, Hyunjin says, before you even have the chance to ask, and you gulp nervously. “O-okay…”, you mumble, and are just about to walk up the stairs, when Hyunjin tugs on your sleeve. You turn around to face him again, expression questioning. The boy gnaws at his lip, looking nervous. “Just… Finally tell him, okay? I’m like, literally begging you.”, he then says, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Tell him what, exactly?”, you inquire, but Hyunjin only gives you an exasperated gaze. “You know exactly what. We’re all tired of you guys pining after each other but not actually doing anything about your feelings. Quick reminder: this is not a cheesy rom-com where you have to wait until one of you guys leaves the country so you can finally declare your love at the airport or some big, stupid gesture like that. Just do it now, in his stuffy frat room and get it over with.” Before you’re able to reply, he gives you a mock salute and retreats into the kitchen. You huff, surprised at the audacity of his words, and turn around to finally go up the stairs and towards Jisung’s room.

You take in a few deep breaths before knocking on his door, trying to steady yourself. Then, you wait - but after a few seconds have passed and the door has not yet been opened, you simply turn the doorknob and let yourself in. Jisung sits at his desk, giant headphones covering his ears while he hums along to the music he’s listening to. Well, that explains why he didn’t hear you knocking. You quickly cross the room, and tap his shoulder. He screams, and whips around, almost ripping his headphones off in the process. You giggle at his shocked expression, dark eyes almost comically big in his face. “When did you arrive!?”, he almost yells, and you slide the headphones off his ears, brushing some of his hair back while doing so. His eyelids flutter for a few seconds, before he raises one eyebrow. “You don’t look that shitty, which is surprising considering the amount of beer you drank last night.”, he says after looking you up and down, and you defensively cross your arms over your chest. “Wow, thanks. Always the charmer, huh?”, you huff in mock offense, and he grins up at you. “No need to charm when I know your heart is already mine.” You almost choke on your own spit, and beg the blush creeping on your cheeks to just not do that right now. Truly not the time nor place. “I came to thank you, actually. For last night - I heard you were the one to bring me home.”, you finally admit, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

Jisung just stares at you for a few seconds, before giving you a soft smile. “Well, yeah. I couldn’t just let anyone take you home - and Amber was kinda busy, I heard.” You nod. “True, I’m glad you didn’t interrupt whatever she was doing. So, uh, yeah, thanks, you’re… a good friend, I guess.” Almost immediately, embarrassment washes over you, and you groan at your own words. Jisung’s lips begin to twitch. “A good friend, huh?”, he repeats and crosses both hands behind his head, still looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You blink a few times, before slowly beginning to nod. “Y-yeah…?” “For someone so smart, you’re really fucking oblivious sometimes, you know that?”, Jisung suddenly states, and you huff. “Excuse me?! Who do you call obliv-” But before you can tell him off, he pulls you onto his lap and then, his lips are on yours. You yelp, freezing for a few seconds, before basically melting against him. He hums appreciatively, and wraps both arms around you to pull you even closer towards him, deepening the kiss. You bury your hands in his soft hair, gently tugging on it, and he groans against your lips. You use the chance to slide your tongue into his mouth while his hands wander lower to grab your ass. You shift on top of him, and he moans when you brush against his crotch.

When you draw back to catch your breaths, you simply stare at each other, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Then, Jisung begins to smile at you, and your heart flutters. Twenty years of seeing his smile, but you’ll apparently never get used to it. “About fucking time.”, he then murmurs against your lips, voice pleased, and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m not oblivious, by the way! You’re the oblivious one - I never give anyone free coffee, because it could literally cost me my job, and yet you always get a flat white on the house!”, you tell him, and he smirks. “Oh, baby, the oblivious one is definitely you - or do you really think I just happen to have a lecture every morning you got the early shift again?”, he replies, a smug expression on his face. You just stare at him. “You-”, but before you can say anything else, Jisung quickly presses his lips against yours again. You immediately lean into his embrace, and close your eyes, losing yourself to his touch - so familiar, yet also so new and exciting.

Yes, maybe you’ve truly always been in love with Han Jisung - but at least he seems to feel the exact same way.

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jiminwreckedme · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar. (m)

Yoongi doesn’t feel so unfamiliar anymore, now that you feel things you haven’t before.

Genre - Smut, little angst if you peek, fuckbuddy Au (not so pwp, the characters have a bit of a backstory?) Word Count - 12K Pairing - (Bartender!) Yoongi x (Doctor!) Reader Warnings - bit of PDA (touching, making out), dirty talk of sorts, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Remember folks, No glove, no love), rough sex (maybe slight choking? and restriction too) Music - High for this, Pillowtalk

You don’t know, what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for.

“What can I get you?”

You blink at him with absolute disbelief etched across your face.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

What a killjoy.

“Fine.” You give in and lean, resting your elbows on the cold granite stone of the counter. “Surprise me.”

Close your eyes, lay yourself beside me

He stares at you intently for a moment, a very brief moment before he replies.

“Do you have any preferences? What kind of alcohol do you usually get?”

He knows the answer to that.

“Hard liquor.”

Hold tight for this ride. We don’t need no protection

“How do you feel about gin?” He points at a bottle on the shelf behind him. “We have a fine bottle of Copper & Kings, the History of lovers.”

You look at it and cross your arms, eyebrows arched up. Really?

“Or scotch maybe? Lagavulin, 16 years old, has a bit of a savory taste if that’s what you like?”

He knows the answer to that as well.

You don’t reply, looking at him pointedly but he waits, ever so ignorantly for you to use your words.

Come alone, We don’t need attention.

You give up and roll your eyes before answering him. “Remy martin.”

“Sure, how would you like it? Neat, on the rocks, straight up?-”

“Now you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“This isn’t a place to joke around Y/n,” His voice is threateningly low, yet you hear it above all that music. “You are in my workplace.”

Open your hand, take a glass. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.

“If you don’t want me to fix you a drink, I have other customers to handle, excuse me.”

Before you can even answer the question he walks away, grabbing the jigger, artfully spinning it with his fingers.

You stare at him shamelessly, oblivious to everything else, mouth going dry. Of course he was hot, Oh Min Yoongi was hot, but there was something about him standing behind that counter that was unbelievably attractive.

Even though you don’t roll. Trust me girl, you’ll wanna be high for this.

Maybe it was because he was dressed in that spotless see-through white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all those veins stark against his skin every time he gripped something. Maybe because he had ditched his signature style of those blonde fringes falling into his eyes and had them pushed back, out of his face. Maybe because he was doing his job, hands working fast as though they had a brain of their own, fixing all those drinks with incredible artistic skill. Or maybe because you hadn’t been laid in about three weeks now.

For whatever reason, you were tempted to just pull him by the collar over the counter and kiss the fuck out of him.

But he walks past about 4 times without looking at you even once.

You know because you sit arms crossed, your eyes following his every action. He knows you’re looking at him. You know he knows. Because almost 15 minutes later, he brings two bottles, setting them on the work space right before you, a little less gently than you would have expected, speaking to you in the same tone as earlier, but with a hint of annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“Would it kill you to talk to me normally for a minute Yoongi? Like I’m not a customer but someone who you-”

“Watch your mouth,” He shuts you up knowing very well what you were going to say next. “This is not just any place Y/n, I work here. You can’t just turn up here like this.”

“You come to my workplace all the time.”

“You work at a hospital, it’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

Yoongi gives up and he returns his momentary undivided attention towards you back to the drinks in his hands.

“Because people go to your workplace to get treated, like I do.” Your eyes are fixed on the way his hands move. So artistic. “People come to my workplace to drink, and you’ve come here to-”

You look up, meeting his eyes to find him already looking at you.

“-to fuck.”

No I did not.

What, it was okay for him to say that? Although the music was louder now than before, and with no one within an earshot of you, there’s no way anyone but you could have heard him.

“You know, it’s not like I’d say no if you came to the hospital for sex.” You mutter stupidly under your breath. Please tell me you didn’t hear that.

“Not now Y/n,” Ok, he didn’t hear that. “I’m in the middle of work.”

And he walks away again, grabbing a bottle, fixing the pourer onto it.

You watch, as he slowly spills the drink over the back of a spoon into an already half full shot glass before setting it carefully on the counter. Spinning a lighter on his finger, he clicks it and lights the surface on fire, earning the many many squeals of what looked like a bachelorette party. Though he resumes working, wiping a few glasses, he is watching the supposed bride from he corner of his eye as she downs her shot within seconds amidst all the cheering and slams the glass down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, satisfied. The edges of his lips curl into a faint smile, the contentment evident on his face despite his attempts to not to make it obvious. He was proud of his work. When he looks away from them, he sees you again and simply sighs, walking away once more to the other side of the station.

It’s a whole ten minutes before he has work in the area you are sitting, ever so patiently. You take your chance to ask him.

“You didn’t mention when your working hours were going to end?”

“When the bar closes.” He begins to wipe the water near the ice bar and doesn’t even look up when he answers. “Two, two-thirty.”

“Fine, I’ll wait then.”

That’s what gets his attention, making him stop and meet your eye.

“It’s half past 11 Y/n.”

“I know.”

“That’s almost 3 hours.”

“I know.”

He raises an eyebrow. “For sex?”

With you. “For a conversation.”

Bending down, he grabs what looks like a bottle from below the counter and slams the mouth of it on the edge of the surface, knocking the cap off, before handing it to you. “Go home Y/n, It’s not worth it.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” You point at the beer bottle he’s put in front of you. “And this is not what I ordered.”

“You live far from here. Best not to get you too tipsy or drunk so you can go back safe.”

You look at him exasperated. “Yoongi-”

“What are you doing here in the first place?” He frowns at you. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I had the shift off for working overtime last week.”

“And you’re here? Instead of staying at home?”

Valid and rhetoric question. You did love staying at home, he knew you enough to know that. Turning up at a bar on your day off was quite uncharacteristic of you. Days off meant more time curled up in your bed, more documentaries to watch and just get lazy. If you weren’t someone who took every opportunity to stay at home you would never even have met Yoongi.

He was your brother’s tutor.

In a family full of doctors and scientists, your 16 year old brother was the only person insistent on becoming a fashion designer. You had assumed his passion was limited to collecting and maintaining a few catalogues and sketching designs for his blog. It was only when he was almost half way through his high school that he revealed his sincerity towards it. He was so determined, he even managed to contact some designer in Korea to intern under after he was done studying. But that meant he had to learn at least basic Korean and that’s how Yoongi came into picture. Your parents thought finding a Korean tutor in Amsterdam would be nearly impossible and frankly so did you. Until a few days later, when you got the fright of your life.

You had gotten off work early and returned home with your then boyfriend, the both of you giggling and walking in, thinking you were all alone. As the two of you sat on the couch, impatiently making out, it was then that Yoongi walked in on both of you with a simple “Could you please keep it down?” And walked back into the house.

That was the first time you saw him.

About 6 months from that day, you were in your bed grabbing the sheets as he covered your mouth with one hand and made you come with his other.

It still boggled your mind, how you went from being embarrassed whenever you saw him to sleeping with him every time you had the chance to.

It started maybe 2 days after your asshole of a boyfriend dumped you.

You were moping around the house that day after refusing to attend the baby shower of some acquaintance with the rest of your family. It was just as you were about to crawl into bed and get comfy that the bell rang and you opened the door to find Yoongi standing there. Apparently your brother hadn’t informed him about his new plans and so Yoongi turned up for the lesson as per schedule.

That’s when things started spiraling out of hand.

When he told you he would just wait on the porch for his friend to pick him up, you shouldn’t have invited him into the house you were in all alone. When he came inside and sat on the couch, you shouldn’t have told him to find you if he needed anything (even though you said it for formality’s sake). When you knew he was in the house, just one floor below you, you shouldn’t have tried to get yourself off in your room.

If you hadn’t done any of that you wouldn’t have found yourself with your fingers deep inside you, back arching off the bed when Min Yoongi knocked on your door and opened it before you could even tell him not to.

At that moment time went very strangely. It was as though he was standing at the door frame for unbelievably long, giving you all the time in the world to pull out your fingers, shut your legs close, sit up and then think of a hundred different things to say without even saying one word.

And then time sped up all of a sudden, because you have no idea how, you didn’t remember at all, but somehow Yoongi was by your bed leaning over you, planting his hand into the mattress right beside your head (Weren’t you sitting? When did you even lie down?) and then his fingers slipped into you.

That feeling of his fingers replacing yours? It was so unfamiliar but so good. They were so much longer, shaking much less, the pace so consistent - the sensation was wild. With a few thrusts he had managed to figure out how and where exactly to curl his fingers to draw that long moan out of you. And as you got louder, he got faster, not stopping for anything. Not even when he heard the car pull up in your driveway. Not even when he heard the front door opening. Not even when he clearly heard the voices of your family.

When you tried to warn him, instead of pulling them out, he covered your mouth with his hand and whispered, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “Shh, be a good girl and come for me Y/n.”

And you did, almost instantly, giving yourself just enough time to (1), ride the high on his fingers before (2), he pulled them out and calmly hid himself, standing against the wall right by the door while (3), you pulled the sheets over your half bare body - all just in time, before your father opened the door of your room to check up on you.

After you assured him you were fine, he left, closing the door behind him, slowly revealing Yoongi who stood there calmly, simply watching you propped up on your elbows looking at him as he slipped both his fingers into his mouth, sucking your arousal clean off his fingers before he left, a smirk dancing on his face. And as you fell back into your bed staring at the ceiling in absolutely disbelief, you heard him making his way down the stairs, updating your family on everything right up to the part where he stood by your bedroom door.

And that’s how your first orgasm with Yoongi happened.

And though you knew it was not right to let a man you barely knew do that to you again, a part of you knew that was definitely not your last orgasm with him.

The next time you saw him, about two days later, he was absolutely normal, behaving with you like he always did, like all that did not even happen. Even when you found him alone for a minute in the dining room and told him you had to talk to him, all he said was “Not now, I’m in the middle of work.” Almost an hour later, he approached you while you were strolling outside, in the backyard, surfing through your phone. When you saw him out there, your first reaction for some reason was to panic and try to hide him away from the eyes of anyone who might see you together. Yoongi was clearly confused the whole time, especially when you climbed the dog kernel right under your bedroom window, and sneaked into your own room in broad daylight, ( similar to your teenage days when you came back home late at night). But he calmly just followed you.

When you found him in your room alone once again, that was when you finally spoke to him.

“We haven’t spoken about….that incident.”

“What about it?”

“You- I mean I- that was a one time thing Yoongi, you understand?”

“This is what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done?”

“Y-Yes?”

“So I can go now?”

You look at him surprised. “Do you have nothing to say?”

“No. If you don’t want this, then there’s nothing left to say.”

“If I wanted more then?”

“Then I’d say, I thought so.”

“W-what?”

“I have never had one time encounters Y/n, I don’t do them and never will.”

“Why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Of course, it was. The way you felt when you got off his fingers? Who wouldn’t want to ride that high again? Women probably crawled back to him all the time, and he probably couldn’t have one time encounters even if he wanted to.

“I don’t like to.” He shrugs very simply. “I like to work on the basis of…..you can call it an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“Just two rules.”

Rules?

“First, while this is going on, I won’t sleep with anyone else and you shouldn’t either.” He gives a pause letting you take in that information before he continues. “Second, If either of us should want to end it, for whatever reason, then we tell the other person and we’re done. No justifications, no explanations needed. When one person says no, it ends, as simple as that.”

You stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“I am only going to proceed if you are okay with that Y/n. All you have to do is ask.” He takes a step closer to you. “Ask me and I’ll give it to you.”

At that moment you really didn’t think it through when you said yes. You just wanted him. And that day after you made sure you locked the door this time, Min Yoongi made you come with his tongue not once but twice.

It had been going on since that day.

Though quite frankly, you didn’t know what to call yourselves. This was exclusive after all and a sort of commitment as well but nowhere even close to a relationship. He wasn’t exactly a booty call either. You couldn’t just text or call him every time you were horny, Yoongi wasn’t a man who entertained those kinds of requests. Sex, hence only happened in certain conditions and that was whenever came to your house.

So Min Yoongi who used to come to your house every weekend to tutor your brother began staying for an extra hour to ‘tutor’ you as well. When you told your parents you wanted to learn Korean, it was a miracle they didn’t question it. Maybe because Yoongi didn’t charge extra for teaching you (“I’m not going to charge to fuck you Y/n, that’s not how this works.”) or maybe because your extremely social parents were barely at home during the weekends and didn’t really care much about what their adult daughter did. Much like your brother who spent most of his time holed up in the basement working on his own thing. That left you and Yoongi all alone in your room for an hour twice a week. Yes, sex with him was technically pre-scheduled. So he was far from a booty call.

Could you call yourselves fuck buddies then? Initially you didn’t know if you could, you both were not even close to what you would consider ‘buddies’ - you barely spoke. Every time you and Yoongi found yourselves together, you only ever had sex. You could barely remember an incident or two when you didn’t actually fuck upon finding yourselves alone. Once when he saw a scar on your body and asked you what it was. You remember telling him, showing him the other scars too, telling the stories behind each of them and he did the same when you asked him. You didn’t remember sleeping with him that day. Or on that day when Yoongi turned up in animated pizza printed underwear and you couldn’t stop laughing. That day you didn’t have sex either. Instead you showed him all your printed underwear as a peace offering.

But that was about it. There were no other instances as far as you could remember. But if you really did have to give the relationship between you two a name, you preferred to call yourselves fuck buddies. You don’t know what Yoongi thought of that, you always just referred to it as ‘the agreement’.

And the agreement was going like it was for the last one year - just fine, till about three weeks ago, when your brother told Yoongi he didn’t need to be tutored anymore.

You were wondering what that meant for you and Yoongi. Because if he wasn’t going to come home for your brother anymore, it made no sense coming home for just you. You had no idea how you were going to continue this arrangement of yours now and only hoped that Yoongi had some alternative in mind. You tried calling him about it but he didn’t pick up. You dropped him a bunch of texts but he didn’t reply to any. Was he busy? Was he ignoring you? You didn’t know.

Your last ray of hope was that weekend. Your parents and brother had planned to go to Korea for a week to attend the new collection launch of the designer your brother was in contact with. You could have gone too, expect you had to go to work. That’s what you told yourself but deep down you knew that meeting Yoongi was also a part of your agenda. For all you knew, that weekend could have been your last time with him. So you sent him a message that you were all alone at home this weekend and just sat with your fingers crossed, hoping he would turn up.

He didn’t show up on Saturday.

And didn’t show up on Sunday either.

Another week passed by like that and then another. With you calling him only to reach voicemail, with you sending him texts only to be replied with silence. It was starting to reach the point where you actually began worrying about whether he was even okay or not because, was it really normal to ignore someone for so long? And you didn’t even know how to meet him at least to make sure he was at least alright. You had no idea where he lived, where else he worked, what other jobs he did, nothing. You knew nothing about him.

Except that he was some sort of expert when it came to alcohol. You were surprised when you came across some of his papers on which he had scribbled, in the messiest handwriting possible, some recipes for cocktails. Back then you didn’t think about why he had such stuff written down, rather you were more fascinated by all those interesting concoctions and so you excitedly asked him about each of them while he calmly answered them. (Oh. That was another day you didn’t have sex with him.)

That night though, you had thought about it, why he might’ve known so much. It was one thing to have an opinion on different kinds of alcohol but to know things such as what kind of ice and what kind of strainer to use? That was definitely not general knowledge, he undoubtedly was a professional of some sort. You had made a mental note to ask him the next time you saw him but you couldn’t. Not when his dick was thrusted deep inside you, his mouth hot on your neck.

A few days ago, when you took a closer look at his profile picture as you sat for the hundredth time wondering why he wasn’t getting back to you, in the background you saw the neon letters spelling out the name of a bar (Truck You) you had only heard about quite often. Putting two and two together, you began wondering if Min Yoongi might actually be a bartender of some sorts and if that was his workplace. There was only one way to find out and that was to personally go there and see for yourself but you were swarmed with night shifts at the hospital and heading to a bar was out of question.

Till today, when you finally got a day off because your friend offered to take your shift to repay a favor last week. And the moment you got free your first thought drifted towards looking out for Yoongi. Even though you knew it could be pointless - he might go there often or he might even have just been there once - and there was no guarantee you’d find him there today, this was your shot in the dark. You had one chance to try and one place you could do so at. So you took it.

And it paid off because the minute you walked in, your eyes fell on Yoongi behind the counter. At that moment there was just a wave of mixed emotions. You were happy he was fine, you were proud of yourself for finding him, you were mad that he was absolutely okay and just ignored you for three weeks, you were so turned on seeing him dressed like that - so many things at once. But you squashed all those feelings in and just sat on the bar stool waiting for him to react when he spots you. It had been so long since you saw him, you had to first make sure this was not a dream. And when he finally did see you a few minutes later, his eyes widened for barely a second (so this was real) before he resumed looking completely indifferent.

And he still looked so unbothered as he worked that cocktail shaker effortlessly. It was as though you didn’t even exist and you couldn’t do anything about it. All that could be done now was wait.

And you do, boredly squirming, tapping your finger on the surface, occasionally sipping on the beer which had gone pretty flat, looking at him whip up all those drinks for what seemed excruciatingly long. You did that till you heard a voice.

“The bar is about to close.”

Your eyes fly open and find a man dressed much like Yoongi, standing right before you with a name tag that read ‘Hoseok.’ When did you even fall asleep and for how long? Your first instinct is to look for Yoongi.

He wasn’t there.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

“It’s my turn to clean up today so I guess he’s done for the day?”

“He left?”

“I didn’t see him leave the bar though. He might still be changing?”

“Where?”

Hoseok scratches the back of his head. “I’m not sure you can go there though, it’s for staff only.”

You sigh, really tired of everything. “Please.”

Hoseok looks at you with what seemed like pity in his eyes. “Are you Y/n?”

“H-How do you know?”

“There.” He points, but you don’t look. “The room next to the back door.”

“But how do you know my-”

“He’s leaving.”

You turn to see Yoongi far across the crowd on the dance floor, stepping out of the room in his usual simple tee and ripped jeans outfit. Hurriedly thanking Hoseok you rushed through the crowd “sorry, sorry.” till you finally reached the blonde man and grab him by the wrist to his absolute surprise and drag him away from the music out of the back door.

When you step out, the first thing that hits you is the smell of the trash from all the trash cans nearby, but you don’t care.

You let go of Yoongi and cross your arms but he beats you to the conversation.

“I was going to come talk to you.”

You cut it, straight to the point. “Why did not talk to me all these days?”

“Y/n,” He sighs, “I’ve just been busy.”

“How busy do you have to be to not find the time to type two words?” You unlock the phone in your hand and hold up your chat over the days, forcing him to see it.

You : Yoongi, are you okay? You : Please say something, I’m getting scared. You : Just say you’re okay and I can be at peace. You : Where are you Yoongi? You : Why are you doing this? You : Please, please just tell me once that you’re fine.

“I’m fine.” You put your phone down sighing. “That’s all you had to say to all this, that you’re fine. Do you know how worried I was?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? It’s been 3 weeks and I haven’t heard a word from you, I was scared something happened-”

“To our agreement?”

What? That’s what he thought you were worried about? Sex? Yeah of course, for a day, maybe two but after that you had been worried for his life. Wasn’t it basic humanity to? To worry and care for people you were associated with? Would he have not felt the same if he was in your place? Or were you the one thinking about this more than you needed to?

“Yes.” You lie. “You said our agreement would end only if we tell each other we wanted it to end. Ghosting me for three weeks was not mentioned-”

“I don’t want it to end.” He says it instantly and so earnestly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

He didn’t want to end things?

Deep down, this was your biggest fear, something you didn’t even admit to yourself. Being worried for Yoongi’s general well-being helped suppress every other reason for panic but with him standing in front of you and knowing that he was okay, there was only one thing left to be scared of. That he wanted to end things. That if Yoongi said he didn’t want this agreement anymore you’d have to stop seeing each other. You didn’t want to stop.

“So you…..you don’t want to end things.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“You don’t want to end things, you won’t reply to me, you won’t sleep with me and I can’t sleep with anyone else either, do you know how frustr-”

“Do you want to sleep with anyone else?”

His question throws you off. Out of all the things you had listed that’s what he catches? If he wasn’t ignoring you because he was planning on ending the agreement then….Is it because that’s what’s bothering him?

“Wait Yoongi, this isn’t one of those ‘I’m catching feelings for you’ kind of situations right?”

He blinks for a bit and then lets out a short laugh. “Are you mad?”

“Then….then what’s the problem?”

“I told you, I was busy.”

“With what Yoongi? What were you so busy with that you send me a message-”

“I lost my scholarship.” He confesses, taking you aback. “I have one term left to finish my degree in English Language. They cut my grants off because of some new rules and now I have to pay full tuition payment for a term and……I don’t think I can afford it.”

“Oh.” You stutter, completely thrown off by the information. “I-I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know that.”

“You don’t know anything.”

That was unfair.

“How would I?” You whisper softly. “It’s not like you told me-”

“I don’t need to Y/n.” He smiles sadly. “We don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

As much as those words were true they still made you feel strangely disappointed.

“Can….can I ask you what you’re going to do about it now?” You immediately add. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not eligible to get a decent loan with the earnings of a bartender. The only way to do this is…..to earn the money myself.” He reveals. “I’ve been trying to get a job over the last few weeks. I applied to couple of places and last week I got an offer, to teach Korean in this tuition center, over the weekends.”

“That’s great!” You smile, deeply relieved on the inside. “I’m so happy for you…How has it been working there?”

“I haven’t accepted their offer yet though.”

“What?” You’re washed over by a wave of shock. “Why not?”

“I’ve been considering dropping out instead,” He slips his hands into his pocket. “I want to follow my dream over what I think my dream should be.”

You know exactly what he means. It hits home. You always thought your dream was should be being a doctor, you grew up with the idea, you were brought up with the idea, you convinced yourself that it was your dream. But all those posters in your house stuck inside your cupboards, those stages, those costumes, those routines. That should have been your dream. Being a dancer should have been your dream.

“What is your dream?”

“To be my own boss.” He smiles. “Open my own bar one day. Maybe a chain. Serve the best kind of alcohol in the whole city. Have crazy Friday nights with packed tables and happy people. That’s my dream.”

“Then why….”

“It’s not a small investment, something like that. Even if I work 7 days of the week, save almost every cent of what I earn, it will be years before I can make enough money to do something like that. I thought the more practical approach to life then was to just change the dream”

He sighs, chest rising then falling.

“But whenever I look at the tuition fee I have to pay to finish this degree? It doesn’t make any sense to me. If I really had to churn up so much money, I figured I might as well put it where it makes me happy instead.”

“So you mean you want to drop out and…then what?”

“Kick start my dream by writing a book.” A book? “More of guide to be honest, for bartenders, it’ll have tips and techniques, how to actually use equipment, recipes, things of that sort. You’d be surprised how many people out there call themselves professional without knowing basic things like what ice to use-”

“Ice that’s not cloudy.” You state confidently, catching Yoongi off guard and shrug. “You told me this once. Ice is to a bartender what fire is to a chef.”

So that’s what all those notes had been about.

“Yeah.” He looks impressed. “But that means I have to experiment a lot, invest too much time and money, I don’t think I can do that with two jobs and continuing a degree. I have to decide what to hold on to and what to let go.”

Did you choose to let go us?

“Is that….is this why you’ve been so- I mean, is this why you couldn’t reply to me?”

“I need to sort things in my life first Y/n, and our agreement…… I didn’t think I should prioritize it at this point.”

“Of course not.” You shake your head. “I’m the stupid one, I should’ve understood you had your own problems, I’m so sorry, I just….I was being an idiot, I guess I was just so used to you being a constant the last one year, it was strange cutting off everything all of a sudden. I probably” You let out a short stupid laugh, “Probably even missed you-”

“Probably?” He chuckles. “I for one, definitely missed you.”

“Yeah sure.” You mock him, trying to lighten the mood even more, now that he was smiling again. “You wouldn’t have been able to stand so far away if you really did-”

He takes two quick strides and the rest of you words are lost against his mouth as he kisses you, trapping you between his hands against the wall. There’s a mix of urgency and gentleness in the way he moves, as though he badly wanted this but also wanted to take his time. You didn’t take his word for it, but it almost seems like he really did miss you. You take his face in your hands, gaining control, easing your lips against his, savoring the moment, not wanting to rush it through. Yoongi groans softly, low in his throat pulling your hands down with his, pinning them above you, against the wall kissing your neck as he whispered. “It was so hard to resist the urge to do this the moment I saw you.”

Your breathing becomes more audible as you arch off the wall, baring more of your throat to him, spiraling, getting lost in the sensation, before you finally manage to find the voice to ask him to stop.

“I’m….I’m not going to have sex with you near the trash cans Yoongi.”

He pulls back, face so close to yours as he grinned. “It’s been three weeks, I thought you might be desperate enough to.” There he was.

“You give yourself too much credit.” You wriggle your hands making him loosen his grip. You wanted him so badly, it had really had been way too long but the smell of the trash? You couldn’t bear it. “I just can’t here, the smell kinda ruins the mood.”

“Yeah we should get out of here.” Yoongi let’s your hand go, taking a step back. Where to though? “Let me grab my things.”

You nod and walk into the bar as Yoongi holds the door open for you.

Maybe because it’s much later at night but the lights were dimmer and the crowd was much lesser and the music was a lot slower and a lot sexier than you remembered it. You can feel your body automatically swaying to the music, forgetting the world around you. You didn’t even notice when Yoongi stepped in behind you and walked into the changing rooms.

Climb on board, We’ll go slow and high tempo

Letting the music lead you, you walk in, to the edge of the dance floor and let your body move the way it feels its right. It felt so good to dance again. You’re so lost in your own private bubble, it takes a while before you notice Yoongi standing in his leather jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder, just staring at you.

You beckon him towards you with a smile and he complies but he doesn’t take your hand when you hold it out, shaking his head instead.

“I don’t dance.”

You laugh and reach for his wrists instead, pulling him closer, wrapping them around your waist.

Light and dark. Hold me hard and mellow

“What a pity, women find a man who can dance attractive.”

“That’s a personal preference.”

“It’s a scientific fact.”

Yoongi chuckles. “As far as I remember, when you entered the club, you walked past all those ‘dancing men’ and sat right there for 3 hours” He points at the stool on the other side of the floor with a tilt of his head, that cocky look on his face. “What does that tell you?”

You shrug, continuing to play with the metal of the chain resting on his chest, as though you didn’t know the answer to that.

I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure. Nobody but you, ‘body but me. ‘Body but us, bodies together.

“Those men may move their bodies however they like, but a woman likes a man who knows her body.” His voice is so fucking deep. “Like I know yours.”

“Do you now?” You run your finger along the line of his jaw. “It’s been so long since you’ve even touched me-”

“Doesn’t matter.” He presses himself onto you and you can feel it. How incredibly hard he’s gotten. “No one knows you like I do, I can promise you that.”

Your lips curl into a smile as you run your hand from his chest to all the way down there, rubbing him ever so slightly over the material of his jeans. “I could say the same”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

You want to see a warning flash in his eyes or some sort of reaction to your actions, but all he does is let out a breath. “It’s been three weeks, I didn’t think you would be in the state to tease.”

“I figured if you could leave me like that for so long, a few minutes shouldn’t hurt you-”

“3 hours.” Yoongi stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen in his eyes before. “Ever since you walked into the bar and sat there.”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

“Nonsense.” You put your arms around his neck, laughing. He was being ridiculous after all. “You barely looked at me the whole time.”

“I didn’t need to. Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.”

So we’ll piss off the neighbors.

You almost gasp, eyes widening, feeling that throbbing sensation in your core. Yoongi never speaks like this outside your bedroom.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About w-what?”

He turns you around, your back against his erection pressing into you, his lips on the skin of your shoulder making their way up. He’s holding you in place with just one arm across your waist, his other hand is drawing circles on the skin your extremely short dress was exposing.

In the place that feels the tears. The place to lose your fears.

“Your moans” He’s not even whispering, he’s making sure he’s heard. “The way you sound when I’m fucking you, when you say my name.”

“The way your hands run down my back and how it feels to be inside you, so tight,” Its like he knows you clenched your walls at that exact moment. “fuck so tight all time, its like I’ve not been there a hundred times already.”

Reckless behavior.

“Yoongi-”

“And how you smell, that scent of you drives me crazy,” His voice suddenly goes so low, you unwillingly feel yourself swallow nothing. “and I can smell it right now. Is that how wet you are already?” You still can’t move. “I’m sure I can easily slide in two fingers. Maybe even three? You’re a good girl, I know you can take it.”

A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw.

It’s so hard for words to leave you. “I-I know something better you can put inside me Min Yoongi.”

He chuckles, “I offered to earlier today, you said I give myself too much credit.”

“Did you really take my word for it?” You turn to him, pressing your hips into his.

He lets out a small laugh. “Have you always been this easy to please?” There was so much pride in his voice. But he deserved to feel that. You were practically a puddle in his hands. “I can’t remember”

“Fuck me and you will.” You can’t hear or think of anything else, your hands finding that tiny cold metal of his pants and they start to unzip it already, forcing Yoongi to hold your wrist and stop you.

“I’m not sure this is the right place for it-”

“I take it back, I don’t mind doing it near the backdoor, trash cans or not.”

Yoongi smirks at your desperation. “We’ve been waiting for 3 hours, I think we both deserve more than that.”

“Yoongi…..” You whine, desperate. “Where do you want to go then? My parents will be home now.”

“I know….” He trails off for a bit. “I know a place nearby we can go to, about 10 minutes away. Would that be okay with you?”

After all these months was Yoongi finally taking you to his house?

“10 minutes is all you get.”

“Perfect.” He steps back flashing his gummy smile, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.”

The moment he leads you into the darkness of his house and shuts the door behind you, you don’t waste time and press him up against it, hooking you fingers in his belt loops, slamming your lips onto his. And he responds by letting his backpack slip from his shoulder onto the floor before he takes your face in his hand, slipping his tongue into your mouth, eliciting that soft whimper from you. His hands don’t wait there, wandering down, caressing your neck before he pushes his jacket that you had borrowed during the bike ride here off your shoulders, making you quickly reach behind and drag the sleeves down your arms before crumpling it unbothered and throwing it, however far your arm could extend.

“Careful!” Yoongi abruptly pulls back, making you almost bite your own lip as he cautions you, pointing at the silhouette of a vase you nearly knocked down with the jacket. “I have no idea how expensive anything is here. We don’t want to fall into any kind of trouble.”

You freeze.

All that excitement, the awe, the thrill, everything in you extinguishes in a second, the moment you hear that statement.

“Yoongi. This-this isn’t your house?”

“I wish.” He chuckles, hand searching the wall for the switches and flipping them on upon finding them. “My house isn’t even a quarter the size of this.”

When your eyes adjust to the brightness and you are finally able to see something other than shadows, you’re awestruck because the place is, well, absolutely beautiful. The white and blue tones of the walls, the slightly antique looking furniture, all those books racked up in bookshelves and those paintings on the walls - none of it looked even close to what you would imagine his place to look like.

“Oh my god, this isn’t your house.”

Yoongi shakes his head as if it’s that simple.

“A friend’s house?”

He shakes his head again.

“Do you even know who lives here?”

“For someone who was eager enough to do it by the trashcans you are having an awful lot of questions now.”

“Yoongi, just answer.”

He picks up his jacket and backpack from the floor and walks in casually to dump it on the couch.

“No, I don’t really know who lives here.”

You freeze. “Oh my god, what are we doing here?!”

He shrugs. “You said you couldn’t wait.”

“What?!” Your voice leaves you as angry whispers. “Yoongi, that doesn’t mean we trespass into someone’s private-”

“Relax Y/n. I have the keys.” He fishes them out from his back pocket, jiggling them at you before he throws them onto the couch as well. “ I have permission, this is far from illegal. My housing agent suggested this space.”

You slowly walk into the house, the fear subsiding with each step.

“The owner lives in Sydney, so I was free to come over and check it out whenever I wanted to. Though the agent did ask him to let him know when I do….” He grins. “Guess I just forgot. “

“I can’t believe you Yoongi.” You shake your head in disbelief, fighting back a smile. “So technically, we are breaking in?”

“Not technically-”

“Yoongi, you just brought me to some random persons house to have sex.”

“Should I be scared that you don’t sound disappointed saying that?”

“Hmm, I like it.” You smile slowly, walking up to him, a glint of mischief in your eyes “I’m so tired of us always having to do it in my bedroom, keeping it down, trying not to get caught. That had its own thrill but here,” Pressing your body against his you tiptoe, weaving your fingers into the back of his head, whispering in his ear. “Here you can make me scream.”

Yoongi lets out a short laugh, his hands finding the curves of your hips, walking you back till you feel the edge of the breakfast bar behind, and kissing you in a way that dragged out those desperate moans. When he pulls back letting you breath and whispering, “Trust me, I’m dying to.”, you look at him chest heaving, biting your lip that was already missing his mouth. His eyes are darken with a mix of desire and something you couldn’t quite tell as he began littering kisses along your collarbone and you attempt to pull your hair into a ponytail, the way he likes it, thank god for the hair tie on your wrist. His hands grip your thighs as he stands between them and his mouth feels so good but you want so much more.

“Are you just going to kiss me all night?” Your voice shakes as he makes a trail up your neck.“I can think of better places you can put your mouth.”

“Such impatience.” He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders and down your arms, his long fingers brushing them excruciatingly slowly. Of course, Min Yoongi’s recipe for mind blowing sex - foreplay, teasing, edging. But you were not in the mood for any of that today.

“You ditched me for 3 weeks,” You work faster than him, almost swatting his hands aside and pulling the dress down to bunch up at your waist, “I think I’ve been patient enough.” You unhook the clasp of your bra, and slide it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor, unbothered. Yoongi’s expression darkens as your fingers find the zip of his jeans, and unzip it without hesitation.

“Come on Yoongi, how much more do you want me to ask?”

He smirks but complies nevertheless, dragging his hands under your dress and up your thigh, pushing the material of your panties aside, running his finger between your folds.

“You’re so wet, fuck.” There is something about the way his voice goes so low and deep when he’s aroused that makes you clench your walls harder. “I could slip in there so easily, fill you up so good. Would you like that?”

Fuck yes Min Yoongi. That’s what you want to say. But you can’t. Not when he doesn’t even wait before he slides two fingers inside you, and all you can do is let out a soft moan, your body instantly reacting to the familiar feeling of his long digits thrusted inside you. But before you can fully savor that sensation, he pulls them out completely, much to your disappointment.

“Lift your hips for me.”

And you obey pulling away from the edge of the counter letting him tug that tight dress down your legs, throwing it somewhere. He pulls out the bar stool from behind you, guiding you to sit on it.

“Turn.”

You frown, not understanding as he swiftly spins the apparently rotatable stool half a round, pressing himself against your back. As you open your mouth to complain about not being about to see him, his hand slides from behind, over your waist, down there and this time, when he plunges his fingers into your heat again, “Oh fuck yes.” the feeling is wild.

His hand finds your breast as you feel yourself arch off against him, whimpers spilling from you mouth. He doesn’t let you grind against his hand, and picks up the pace instead knowing that’s what you want, as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, months of experience telling him just how deep you liked it and just how fast. His hand switches between your breasts, mouth hot on your neck as you tip your head back, quickening the pleasure building up inside, your breaths getting louder, shorter. It’s been so long since you’ve even been touched, with him pumping his digits into you like that, it doesn’t take long for you to edge.

“Fuck, I’m going to come, Yoongi, stop.” You weakly attempt to hold his wrist but of course you are not successful, not when you feel him run his tongue up your neck. “Fuck, I want you inside me when I come, please, just stop-”

“Cute.” He lightly sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, whispering against it. “What makes you think you’re only going to come once tonight?”

You bite back a moan, stuttering “Fuck, yes, yes, yes, right there”, incoherently and it takes just the slight pressure of his thumb on your clit and you fall apart instantly, breathing heavily.

When he feels you finish riding your high and relax around his fingers, he slowly pulls them out, and you turn to face him, finally gaining the ability to address his cockiness. “Make me come more than once today? Don’t you have a lot of confidence Min Yoongi?”

“I think I’m allowed to have it.” He sucks on his fingers, smirking proudly around them. “Delicious.”

Fuck.

The effect he had on you. Every time. Every time he managed to make such a panting mess of you all while remaining so calm, so composed and today, fully clothed moreover, with just his zip down. You look at the bulge in his pants, and you can tell he is not at his most comfortable, yet he waited for you to make the move.

You grab the edge of his shirt and pull it up, over his head, dropping it the moment he’s free of it, and run your hands against the pale skin of his torso as he watches you patiently. Oh but today you had the upper hand. You were satisfied by his fingers already while here he was, an erection still in his boxers. If you wanted you could give him a taste of his lesson, tease the life out of him, but there was something you were holding onto all these days, something you wanted to tell him for quite a few weeks now.

“Do you have a condom?”

He nods, reaching for his back pocket to take out his tattered wallet as you palm him over the material of his boxers before sliding your hand in to and griping his erection, drawing a very soft but audible groan from his throat.

“You’re going to have to take my cock out if you want to use this sweetheart,” He holds the foil pointedly.

“Or not.” You mutter unsure as you take the foil from him and put it on the surface next to you. “We don’t really have to use it you know.”

What did that expression mean?

When Yoongi doesn’t reply to that, you don’t know what to do but continue.

“I’ve uh,” Why you are so hesitant? “I’ve started taking the pill.” You bite your lower lip, muttering. “So if you are okay with it…..we can do this without protection.”

It’s a while before Yoongi stops just blinking at you and replies. “You’re saying,” He looks away momentarily, letting out a struggled breath. “You’re saying it’s ok if I fuck you raw-”

“I’m saying I want you to.” You look him straight in the eye, dead serious. “Fuck me raw.” Then quickly add, “If you want to, that is.”

Yoongi actually takes a few steps back instead. “The first time we slept together, you said without a condom, it felt too intimate.”

“Oh,” You scoff. “That was my nice way of saying ‘god knows what nasties you are carrying’.”

You roll your eyes when he looks at you confused. “STDs Yoongi.”

“I was clean then, clean now. You knew that.”

“Only because you said so.” You point out. “But I have medical proof now because I might have looked up your test results on our hospital records…?” You trail off, voice softening a bit in embarrassment. You weren’t prepared to answer all these details, it was a simple yes or no question.

“Really?”

“Yeah well,” You shrug. “I’m a resident, I have access to all kinds of records-”

“No, about this.” He straightens out, standing upright. “You really want to? You-you’re serious about….this.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Yeah, I mean, I am clean but I don’t have any evidence right now-”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You swallow on nothing, surprised by his trust in you.

“Uh and unless you’ve slept with someone the last few weeks-”

He scoffs, “You think?”

With just two strides, he’s right before you once more, kissing you with a ferocity that was new to you but you kissed him back just as intensely, biting, running your tongue over his lips, over where they meet, just inside of them, tracing their outline with the tip of your tongue. You slide your hand into his boxer, gripping his erection, attempting to free it, and he helps you, pulling both his boxers and his pants halfway down his thighs.

“Take them off.” You whisper and he obeys taking a step back and swiftly pulling off the last of his clothes as you push aside your drenched panties and stick your fingers inside you, feeling all that wetness, gathering it. Yoongi’s eyes follow your digits as you pull them out, your arousal slick between your fingers and he looks up to your mouth, as though he expected you to slip them in there. Instead, you gesture him to come closer with them and when he does you wrap your hand around his erection, the wetness of your fingers letting you stroke it with a little ease as you feel his breath get heavier.

“Can’t wait to put this in my mouth.” You coo into his ear, attempting to slide off the stool but he pins you by your thighs, not letting you move.

“Not tonight.” Yoongi refusing a blow job? He groans as you run your thumb over his tip. “I want to fuck you right now-”

“Then fuck me.”

Holding you in place with his hands under your knees, he wastes no time - no teasing your slit with his tip, not even pushing himself in you slowly to allow you to adjust his thickness, not even bothering to fully remove your panties, he just pushes them aside and he thrusts himself in with one swift move and fuck, the feeling of his bare cock in you is so foreign but unbelievably gratifying. You can feel it inside you, down to the last detail, your walls clenching, aching for some movement. But Yoongi just wraps your legs around his waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck, hands digging into your thighs, surely bruising them.

“Yoongi, move.” You moan into his ear, entwining your arms around his neck. “Please.”

And he does, picking up the pace, giving it to you so hard, your nails find themselves raking his back. He kisses you along your shoulder, not letting you hear the soft grunts he couldn’t help but let out. You though, wince every time he thrusts into you, body sore from your fixed position.

“It hurts.” When he doesn’t stop, you slide your fingers into his hair, and tug his head back, letting him see you and realize you were hurting. You sense how it takes every bit of his energy to halt and mutter. “I’ve been sitting for far too long.”

“Bedroom?” He asks, almost short of breath. When you shake your head he swiftly pulls you down from the bar stool, giving you immediate relief.

“Are you okay?” You nod but he doesn’t seem convinced. “We can find a bedroom-”

He goes speechless the moment you turn around, gripping the edges of the counter and slightly bend over. You just wanted a change in position, you weren’t really thinking about the effect it might have on him.

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Is this what you imagined?” You try to peer over your shoulder. “In the bar earlier today?”

He’s still silent. You can’t really see him well but you know he’s watching as you touch yourself, eager for him to shove himself back in there.

“No.” He murmurs.

You feel his hands on the elastic of your underwear, pulling it down to where he said he pictured it, before he makes his way back up, kissing and biting softly along the inside of your thigh, dropping one last kiss on the skin of your lower waist before he confesses in your ear in a low voice,

“This is so much better, you have no idea.”

Your proud smile falters the moment he digs his fingers into your hips definitely making bruises, and rams himself inside you, making your head dip down in pleasure as you bite back a moan.

“Don’t hold back.” He speedens his movements in and out, the new angle letting him snap his hips against yours faster and deeper. “I want to hear you.”

So you let him. Parting your lips you let him hear what he does to you, moaning his name and it drives him crazy because you feel him getting more aggressive, not hesitating at all. His hand wanders up, pressing into your skin wherever it could, grabbing your breast almost painfully before reaching your wrist, tapping it.

“Let go.” He growls, and the moment you obey he harshly pushes you forward, right up against the counter, till every bit of the skin of your upper body is against the cold surface, giving him the ability to pound into you harder almost as though he had no intentions of holding back.

“Shit,” You try to raise yourself but he leans over and pins you with his hand on the nape of your neck, restricting you against the surface, your cheek still against the coldness. “Fuck,” You moan shamelessly. “I forgot how good you fucked me Yoongi.”

No cocky response to that? It’s like he doesn’t care anymore, nothing but an occasional grunt or two leaving him unwittingly, his breath the most audible thing from him. You wish you could see him fucking you like this. Sex with Yoongi never was gentle love making but it also wasn’t this sort of rough fucking. You hated to admit how much you liked it. Even more so when he takes both your hands and holds them firmly against your lower back with his single hand, and starts to lose his rhythm, thrusts getting sloppy.

“Fuck, I’m going to come.” You feel his lips on your shoulder, trying not to sink his teeth into your skin. “Where do you want me to?”

Like you could respond to that with your mouth so dry and you were approaching your high too.

“Fucking hell Y/n, you need to tell me, shit I’m so close-”

“Inside, inside.” You whimper, breathlessly. “Come inside me Yoongi.”

And before you even finish your sentence he groans, shooting his load with a few thrusts, the warmth filling you up as you clench around him, desperate to hold on to the sensation of him inside you to tip over the edge once more.

“Stop. I’m going to get hard again if you do that.”

You sense him move back, slowly sliding out of you as you feel his cum leaking down, threatening to dribble down your thighs. Turning around you look at him, eyes savoring the sight of completely fucked out Yoongi before you as you get down on your knees slowly, taking his cum covered cock in your mouth, sucking him clean, that alluring taste of him making you want more and more. Yoongi lifts your chin with a finger under it, pulling you back as he looks down at you.

“If I get hard again, I can’t promise I won’t break you. So don’t try, Y/n.”

Fuck.

Normally you wouldn’t have laughed at that, but being deprived of your orgasm makes you gutsy.

You chuckle, standing up, licking your lips. “Speaking of promises, someone said I’ll be coming more than once tonight.”

His eyebrows furrow as the realization hits him and honestly, it surprised you just as much as it surprised him. Min Yoongi just fucked you with the most minimal foreplay, absolutely no teasing, and the man who had always made it his mission to make you orgasm first was standing here with his cum all up inside you before you had the chance to. It clearly hurts his ego because you can see the determination in his eyes to change things.

Pushing you back onto the stool, he gets on his knees instead and you gasp, seeing his head between your legs like that. Yoongi, who is so repelled by the idea of tasting himself that he wouldn’t even kiss you after you blow him was here, latching his mouth around your cum filled cunt, delving his tongue inside you. You are already so sensitive from his cock inside you earlier and it doesn’t help that he looks so hot buried between your legs like that, meeting your eyes, you can feel that tightening sensation rise in you again. Desperate, you catch yourself almost grinding against his tongue till he finds the need to stop you, taking one of your legs over his shoulder making you reach for support from the counter behind.

“Fuck y-yes.” You whimper, his mouth sucking on your cunt so hard and he brings his hand up to your clit, rubbing on it hard and fast and it takes less than a minute for you reach your orgasm, vision fading to black as you rake your fingers through his hair softly. He runs his tongue along the folds on last time and your look down at as he drops a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

As he stands up you slowly adjust yourself, rolling your neck to relieve yourself, pulling the hair tie, freeing your hair. Yeah furniture sex is great, but your body was surely going to hurt like a bitch in a few hours.

Yoongi holds you gently by the elbow, planting a brief kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?”

“You should ask me this question tomorrow because that is when I’ll know.” You laugh.

“I will.” He nods, picking your clothes from the floor handing it to you. You take it, trying to avoid his concerned gaze.

“Uh, I should go pee.” You hold your clothes against your chest, suddenly embarrassed about how much you were exposing to him.

“The washroom is probably down the hall.”

He moves to the side giving you way and you leave with a small thankful smile, hurrying with small steps, eyes searching around the house. When you push the bathroom door upon finding it, you are greeted by a full size mirror making you jump reflexively. “Ah fuck….”

You’re a mess.

You knew you were probably looking like one, but you didn’t know to what extent. You bite your lip looking at the purple marks stark against your shoulders and the inside of your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t usually mark you. Simply because you didn’t allow him to, at least not the neck. You told him that was off limits because you worked at a hospital and you obviously couldn’t go to work looking like that, it wasn’t appropriate. You did say though, that you didn’t mind anywhere else but he never seemed interested in that proposition because he never even tried to. But today looking at those marks, the pride in your chest does a happy backflip. Yoongi really lost control today.

When you clean yourself up and come out, you don’t know why you are surprised to see him still there. Maybe because every time after the both of you slept together, either he had to rush or you had to, there was never an opportunity to so much as even look at each other, forget saying something.

But here he was, with just his pants back on, shirt still lying discarded on the floor as he makes himself busy cleaning the surface of the table with a wet tissue, much like how he was clearing his station a few hours ago.

You sink into the couch nearby and watch him take his time, running here and there, scrubbing the surface clean, once with a wet tissue, then with a dry tissue, scrounging around febreze, spraying it around the place, sniffing it carefully in the air. You smile at his antics, shaking your head.

“Alright, clean here.” He grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head. “Oh yeah, sanitizer.” Your habits really did grow onto him. You did not know why and what kind of role you played in Yoongi’s life but the last 3 weeks taught you something. For some reason, you don’t know what exactly but Yoongi was important to you.

As he approaches the couch, hand reaching out for his backpack next to you, you hold him by the wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t do that to me again.” You stare at how beautiful his hand looks in yours, like its meant to be. “The last three weeks were……difficult.”

“You think 21 days of not fucking you were easy for me?” He scoffs. “The regular 5 days itself are ridiculously hard.”

“Difficult because I was worried, not because I was horny.” You laugh as Yoongi sinks into the couch next to you, rolling his head over, giving you his gummy smile.

This was the reason.

That’s when you finally, finally realize.

You realize that you laughed after almost 3 weeks now. After days of being upset and angry and irritable, just one night with Min Yoongi and you were normal again.

You were laughing ever since things cleared between the both of you.

You were laughing ever since you realized he was okay.

You were laughing because he was laughing.

You were laughing because of Min Yoongi.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I’m sorry though, I really am.” He looks away because he’s ashamed and you are relieved he can’t see the conflict you are going through. “I thought I’ll figure it all out and then talk to you about it but….I should have said something.”

You gulp air in the silence, not paying attention to his sincere apology, your realization evoking hundreds of thoughts in you head, the most important one being-

“What happens to us now?” You whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“My brother doesn’t need tutoring anymore, we can’t exactly…” This was the part of the night you were dreading, the part that decides it all. “How will we keep this going?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Yoongi nods slowly. His words, calm down your racing heart. “If you don’t want it to end then…..”

“Of course I don’t.” You answer certainly.

“Then we’ll find a way, I’m sure we can.” He then slowly smiles smugly, as though he realized something. “Maybe I can get my agent to find us a new house like this every week.”

You raise your eyebrow, letting out a laugh once again but slowly nod your head. “So we are going to continue breaking into houses like this?”

“It could be our thing.” He grins.

Our.

“Or would you rather the hospital instead? Like you suggested?”

It takes you a moment but when you remember it, you laugh. “Oh god, you heard that.”

“Mhmm.” Yoongi nods, “It made me think about doing it in my workplace.”

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Someday, when I have a place of my own, maybe after closing hours.” He smirks and you immediately find yourself picturing it already.

“Speaking of the bar,” You remember that man as you turn toward Yoongi, sitting sideways. “There was a bartender there who knew my name.”

“Who knew your name?” Yoongi frowns before realizing, “Hoseok?”

“I think that’s what his name tag read?”

“Probably him, I can’t think of anyone else who knows.”

“You told him about us?” Your eyes widen.

“What? No,” He adds slowly. “He saw your name flashing on my phone screen a couple of times.”

“Oh.” The panic ebbs a little. “Oh so you saved my contact as Y/n?”

“Yeah.” He nods like it was obvious before squinting at you. “Why? What did you save mine as?”

The Agreement.

“MYG” You lie confidently.

Why did you lie? Because you thought is might hurt his feelings? Why did that matter? You know why.

“Though…..” He speaks, still thinking. “Would that be such a bad idea? Telling people about us?��

You nervously laugh. "W-Why did you think of that all of a sudden?”

Why Yoongi?

“You were quite terrified when you thought I told Hoseok about us.”

“No I mean…..” You swallow not knowing what to say. “You said so yourself, we don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“What will we even tell people? What are we Yoongi?” You smile sadly. “We are just an agreement. Something that started with two rules and that will end with one sentence.”

Say I’m wrong Yoongi. Say we could be more.

“You’re right, We are just an agreement. ” He nods. “What would we even tell people?”

You : That I am falling for this man. Yoongi : That I’ve long fallen for this woman.

But both things were left unsaid, only a strange silence in the space between you two, sad smiles exchanged in the place of those feelings.

#yoongi smut #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #btsguild #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #unfamiliar #jiminwreckedme

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

Text

Dance like no one’s watching (even if they are)

a03 link

word count: 2,360

It isn’t uncommon for Virgil to wake before Remus does. Granted, he usually goes to bed far later than he should, and who is he to say no to sleeping in late on the weekends? But Remus sleeps like a rock. It’d take a marching band to raise him from his slumber – or Virgil hitting him with a pillow over and over again, begging him to wake up because, “God damn it, Rem, we’ve got somewhere to be!”

Virgil’s a light sleeper; always has been. He figures it has a lot to do with the fact that he’s basically anxiety and self-doubt stacked together in a trench coat pretending to be a person, but yeah, it doesn’t take much to wake him. The creaking of a door, the sound of birds chirping outside, Remus snoring. He always claims he doesn’t, and honestly, Virgil is considering recording it to prove that, yes, he absolutely does snore, and it’s insufferable. Well. Maybe not insufferable, just… annoying, sometimes.

Remus isn’t snoring now, though. He’s fast asleep, his hair frazzled, and drool stuck to his pillow which is way more adorable than it ought to be. Virgil doesn’t know what woke him, but it wasn’t his boyfriend this time. He glances at the clock and groans sleepily. It’s still early in the morning, and a Saturday, too. He’d like to shut his eyes, throw his arms around Remus and get a few more hours of sleep, but he knows himself well enough to understand it’s just not gonna happen.

Still, he lies there for a few minutes, relishing in the quiet and comfort of the thick duvet and Remus beside him, his own personal space heater. Remus runs hot, and Virgil’s always a little cold, so they balance each other out. It’s weird. They shouldn’t, or at least, it doesn’t seem like they should.

Virgil thinks back to when they first knew each other. Having been friends with Roman for quite a while, he’d thought it odd that Roman had never formally introduced his brother. Upon actually meeting Remus, however, Virgil’s confusion quickly dispersed.

Remus is loud, bold, energetic to an erratic point, and he says absolutely everything that comes to mind the moment the thought occurs to him. “Hey, emo, what do you think it’d look like if I just exploded right now! Just my blood and guts smeared all over the walls! Wouldn’t that be awesome?!”

Needless to say, Virgil’s not initially a fan. Remus is a lot to handle, and honestly, Virgil’s a little scared of him at first. It isn’t as though he thinks that Remus is going to hurt him, he’s just… weird. And crude, and a lot to handle. He’s impulsive and brash, and a kind of person that Virgil’s never known. He decides that he doesn’t like him and that he’ll avoid him as much as he’s able.

Except, that isn’t really possible. Despite the fact that Remus and Roman’s relationship is strained, to say the least, they still spend some amount of time together, and Remus is occasionally invited (or invites himself) to events. The point is, Virgil sees him around, more and more. And somewhere along the way he somehow becomes tolerable.

Virgil doesn’t know what changes, but one day, at a party Remus plops himself down next to him, crowding his personal space, and he lets him stay. That’s when he first realizes how warm he is, how strangely comfortable Remus’s presence can be. It might be the alcohol, Virgil thinks to himself that night, that’s why Remus leaning on him, giggling and making inappropriate jokes makes him feel so stupidly nice.

Virgil blames the liquor when he kisses Remus, too. He still can’t fully remember what spurred it; he just knows Remus looked so pretty, his grey-streaked hair falling in his eyes, coming out of its bun, and Virgil leaned forward and kissed him. It’s harder to blame anything other than a more complicated desire when he finds himself in Remus’s bed, their limbs a tangled mess.

It’s startling, that morning, waking up and seeing Remus asleep beside him for the first time and thinking about how beautiful he looks. Remus and Roman are identical twins, and he’s certainly never thought about his friend that way. That isn’t to say he hasn’t noticed that Roman is handsome, because, c’mon, he has eyes. But this is different. The way he looks at Remus is different and – oh shit – trashy men with ratty mustaches and a terrible fashion sense are his type, aren’t they?

He doesn’t know when he went from being afraid of him to tolerating his presence, to finding him heart-wrenchingly beautiful, but the shift has happened regardless. When did Remus’s jokes go from unnerving to kind of fucking funny? He can’t say. At first, not sure if it’s going to last. They’re so different, or at least, that’s how things appear.

But with time, Virgil learns that isn’t necessarily the case. Yes, Remus is far louder and more abrasive than he is, but there are more commonalities between them then he might’ve thought. Remus is a Halloween freak, too, which is nice because none of Virgil’s friends like the holiday quite as much as he does. Remus adores horror movies, the gorier the better, and his shoulder makes the perfect spot to hide his face when things get too scary. Remus likes a lot of the same music (although his taste can be a tad crude sometimes, to say the least), and it’s nice, not having to worry that his playlist is to “emo.”

A lot of things are nice with Remus, Virgil comes to realize. Waking up beside him, singing along to music way too loudly, being picked up by him because good lord is he strong. It’s all just really… domestic, which isn’t something Virgil had ever seen for himself. So, yeah, they don’t make a lot of sense, at least not at first glance. But somehow, they just work, and that’s enough for Virgil. It’s more than enough.

Virgil turns over in bed, his right hand finding its way into Remus’s frazzled hair. His boyfriend’s mustache curls slightly upwards when his lip twitches upward into a smile, but he doesn’t wake, just arches closer to Virgil. Virgil smiles at this, stroking through his long hair.

His eyes glance to the cardboard moving boxes that litter the bedroom floor. God, he’s really got to start unpacking soon. He just moved into Remus’s apartment – their apartment now, he supposes – a week ago, and he’s been getting used to living with another person. Virgil had never let himself imagine such things, lying in bed with his boyfriend on a Saturday, having boxes to unpack because he moved in. It’s a lot to process, sometimes. It’s not bad, just kind of… intense. And mushy, gushy, and full of all the emotions he never expected to feel.

Virgil presses a kiss to the crown of Remus’s head, relishing in the smile that spreads over his sleeping face, before swinging his legs over the bed and heading into the kitchen.

Virgil groans at the sight of the dishes piled high in the sink. It’s his own damn fault; it was his turn to do the dishes (Christ, he never thought about the painfully mundane issues of a relationship like dish duty, or who takes out the garbage, or any of that). It’s… weird, not living alone anymore. He’d been so used to it for so long and, now here he is, existing in the same space as the man that he loves. He must be spending too much time with Roman because he’s turning into such a sap.

Being a sap aside, Virgil really should get these done while Remus is still asleep. That isn’t to say that Remus is some kind of a clean freak, because he really isn’t. It’d just be good to get the choir out of the way.

Virgil turns on his portable speaker, scrolling through his phone for the best music to play because turning music on while doing mundane tasks always gives him a little much-needed energy (which he generally has very little to speak for). He settles for MCR, “Teenagers” blaring as begins to scrub away last night’s pasta-sauce covered plates.

And okay, yeah, the music is probably cranked up too loud. Yeah, Virgil’s mouthing along to the words, singing some of them, and he really should just shut up and do the dishes considering his boyfriend is asleep in the other room. But Remus is such a heavy sleeper, and he’s never woken him up in the past playing music in another room, so why should he now?

Virgil’s absolutely positive that Remus is still dead asleep as he begins to move to the music, his voice gaining in volume as he sings along, unabashedly. It’s unlike him; Virgil’s always so riddled with self-consciousness. But social anxiety isn’t much of a factor alone in the kitchen doing the dishes, so he doesn’t focus on how ridiculous he must look, getting lost in the music and dancing like an idiot.

“Nice moves, hot stuff.”

Virgil shrieks, the sponge in his hand hitting the ground with an unceremonious splat.

“Sweet Frank Iero – Remus! You- you scared the shit out of me!”

There stands Remus, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen and beginning to cackle. Virgil feels a flush climb up from his necks all the way to his ears as he bends down to retrieve the sponge, and then to pause the music. Remus has the decency to wear boxers, considering how adamant he is about sleeping in the buff. He’d probably walk around nude most of the time if Virgil didn’t beg him not to. “We have neighbors!” “We live on the third floor.” “Well – still! You are not walking around our apartment with your dick hanging out.” “Aw, you’re no fun!”

“Sorry for spooking you, scare-bear,” Remus says, though he doesn’t sound all that genuinely apologetic, especially not with that shit-eating-grin. “You know –.” “Stop. Whatever you’re going to say just – just don’t. I’m already about to die from embarrassment, don’t make it worse.” Virgil can feel his blush go from pink to crimson as Remus walks further into the room, his smile going impossibly wider.

“I don’t know what you mean, Virgey,” Remus croons, his hands finding their way to Virgil’s waist, chin perched on his shoulder. Virgil tries to keep his eyes trained on the dishes in the sink, the sponge trembling slightly in his hand, but Remus certainly isn’t making focusing easy.

“Yes, you fucking do.”

“I, for one, think you’re adorable.” Virgil’s cheeks, somehow, go redder.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Virgil groans, setting the sponge in the sink and shoving Remus off of him so he can turn around to face him. He’s still got that wicked smile; the bastard.

“Remus…”

“Virgil.”

“I’m… geez, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Virgil asks the realization that he might’ve been the cause of Remus waking catching up despite the embarrassment. Remus quickly shakes his head, his hair flopping in his face.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’, “Course you didn’t. Have you ever?”

“Only when I’m really trying to, I guess,” Virgil says after thinking about it for a moment.

“I just woke up at the exact perfect time and didn’t want to make my presence noticed at first.”

“Creep,” Virgil says, but he’s throwing his arms around Remus and pulling him close all the same.

Remus accepts the embrace happily, pressing Virgil into his chest and kissing the top of his head. Remus gives the best hugs. The height difference was something he was initially a bit self-conscious about; but really, what doesn’t make him self-conscious? Quickly, though, he learned to love embraces from his boyfriend. Remus stands a head-and-a-half taller, and swallows Virgil up in his arms every time they hug. Remus hugs with everything he has, tight and protective. Virgil forgets that he was ever afraid of him in these moments, safe and secure in his arms.

“And what of it?” Remus says with a laugh, letting go of Virgil so he’s able to bend down and kiss him thoroughly. Virgil’s hands settle around his neck, a good portion of his embarrassment leaving.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Remus croons, kissing Virgil on the cheek before pulling away, “You want some breakfast, dance machine?” And there comes the embarrassment, roaring back to life.

“I swear if you’re going to keep teasing me –.”

“Oh, c’mon! Cut me some slack, babe. You’re cute as all hell!”

“Remmmm.”

“Do you want breakfast or not? Bacon, eggs?” Remus asks, trying to distract from his teasing. Virgil sighs.

“That depends: are you going to burn the bacon on purpose like last time?” Remus is silent, his smile devious. “Remus, I swear, if you do, I will go and get McDonald's and I will not share.”

“Ugh, fine,” Remus pouts dramatically, as if burning bacon just for the fun of it (although it can be quite fun to watch it curl up and turn all chalky and black) sounds any better than having breakfast with his boyfriend. “But only because I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

Remus puts the bacon on the skillet, cracking the eggs in a pan and watching Virgil with amusement as he turns the speaker back on, MCR playing once more. Virgil can’t help but laugh as Remus begins to break into dance moves in front of the stove, wiggling his hips and singing along as he flips the eggs.

Eventually, Virgil can’t help but join in. Remus’s just like that; an infectious personality, to say the least. But Virgil’s glad for it. Really, really glad. Joining Remus in dancing to My Chemical Romance in their kitchen on a Saturday morning suddenly feels so natural. Remus makes it natural.

He doesn’t entirely know if he’ll ever be used to it, and he knows he’ll always be at least a little embarrassed about things like this. But it’s nice, and that’s something Virgil can settle into just fine.

=+=

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

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#dukexiety #romantic dukexiety #human au #sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #fluff #domestic fluff #remember how virge and Remus both have MCR on their playlists?#yeah me too #this ship is quite fun sometimes #exhaustedfander #exhaustedfander writes

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

a lesson in chemistry // r.l

summary: hey! i was wondering if you could do one where the reader does really bad in a test and remus comforts her? thank u!!

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i am close to 1k and was thinking of doing an event but i know i’m gonna forget and it’s just not going to go well so i just wanna say THANK YOU to all you sweet sweet beings for following my mess of a blog! :)

——

Moonstone. Powdered porcupine quills. Powdered unicorn horn.

The three ingredients repeated themselves over and over in your head as you sat by yourself in the common room nearing two o’clock in the morning, the messy notebook spread open in front of you as your eyes tried to droop shut.

It was nearly impossible for you to focus on the fuzzy words, but you forced yourself to stay as awake as you possibly could so that tomorrow’s quiz would be a breeze. That’s why you were studying, wasn’t it?

Remus and Sirius had promised to help you out, but the two had trudged off to bed nearly an hour ago, practically already asleep. For two people who seemed so adamant on ‘all nighters’ they had gone to bed rather early, in your opinion. You quite missed their company — Remus more than Sirius — and wished you could at least have someone here to help keep your mind sharp.

But, here you were, all by your lonesome and wrapped in a scarlet and gold knitted blanket that your parents had made you, the crackling fireplace heating you up, and the words in front of you making you sleepy.

You couldn’t comprehend why no one else seemed stressed or even worked up about this quiz — exam, actually — which made studying it just that much more frustrating. You figured people would care about their marks and scores, right?

“The potion should result in a cool blue colour,” you mumbled to no one in particular, the words trying their best to etch into your brain, “A cool blue colour. Not to be mistaken with Draught of Peace which is a warm blue colour.”

You let out a quiet groan and rested your head against the back of the couch cushion. Potions class was never your strong suit, but you had found it fascinating. And, of course, hou didn’t want to seem like you were lost, so studying hours on end seemed to be the only passing solution here.

The large ticking clock on the wall told you it was five minutes past two o’clock, and the exam was at ten o’clock the next day. Only eight hours left for you to memorize every last word.

Eight hours.

As you glanced back down at the book, your eyes felt heavier than they were not a minute ago, and your head felt as if it were on a cloud. The room around you seemed to vanish down a long, long tunnel...

——

“D’you think if we poke her she’ll jump?”

“Sirius, that’s just rude.”

“C’mon, it’d be funny though. What if we poured pumpkin juice on her?”

“No, let’s just calmly wake her up.”

“You’re boring, Remus.”

Your eyes fluttered open to two overly familiar faces crouched in front of you. Remus, his hair messy and his eyes watching you cautiously, and Sirius with his signature smirk.

“Get out of my face,” you sat up, throwing the blanket off of and trying to figure out where you were. The Gryffindor common room felt very different when you were waking up in it.

The fire embers were burning low and the morning sunlight blazed through the windows, the room brighter than it had ever seemed before. The blanket was still comfortable draped over your body, warm and comforting, and the heavy textbook was still open on your lap with the page slightly crumpled as your hand rested upon it.

Suddenly, as if hit by a train once you noticed the book, you remembered, “Bloody hell, it’s the Potions quiz today.”

Remus chuckled, “Relax. It’s in, like, an hour.”

You threw the blanket off of your body and grabbed the book, shaking your head, “You don’t get it, Remus. I don’t know anything.”

“That can’t be true,” Remus furrowed his eyebrows at you.

Sirius pat you on the shoulder, sitting next to you on the couch and closing the book with a loud thump, “You’ll be fine. You just need to eat.”

So you let the two boys lead you down to the Great Hall, where the loud hustle and bustle of the early morning made it nearly impossible to focus on the jumble of words on the worn out pages in front of you. The book, although informative, was clearly written for someone who actually understood what the hell everything meant. And it was harder to understand anything when the ruckus around you made it difficult to even read said things.

It bothered you greatly that Remus — the person you considered your best friend — didn’t seem to care about the exam. Were you overreacting?

It wasn’t your fault, really. You took schoolwork very seriously and sometimes that meant overreacting. Over-studying. Over-planning. All of the above.

But, better to be safe than sorry — isn’t that the saying?

When the Great Hall crowd became dispersed, you knew that meant classes were beginning and you felt your nerves kick in at the thought. You shut the book rather loudly and followed Remus to the Potions classroom, no words being exchanged between the two of you — which you were thankful for, to be honest.

“You got this,” Remus flashed you a grin as you slowly walked into the class together, taking your usual seats in the middle. You didn’t like being too close, nor too far from the teacher. These seats were perfect.

“I don’t need false hope,” you groaned, resting your head on the table, “I need answers.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, you know me. I can’t cheat. But if this test goes wrong, I can tutor you.”

You lifted your head quickly, a bright red spot on your forehead from where it was previously pressed up against the wooden desk, “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he smirked, running his hand through his hair in a stupidly attractive manner, “What are friends for?”

You flashed him a bright grin, “Oh, you’re the best, Remus.”

His cheeks turned slightly pink as he smiled back, lowering his head slightly as he flushed at the compliment. You felt your heart leap at his flustered state, unsure why the strange feeling decided to make its home in your chest.

You brushed it aside as the professor entered the class and handed out the quiz papers, making sure every student was silent and that no cheating would occur.

Within the first glance at the page, your heart sunk, all previous fluttery feelings gone. You had been so focused on remembering ingredients and potion colours that you forgot to study their purposes. The entire first page was asking about what each potion did and who they helped best. And you hadn’t even brushed on that subject during your late night study session.

Long story short, you were screwed.

You closed your eyes, thinking long and hard about each answer, writing down whatever felt right. It was always good to trust your gut instinct right?

In this case, it didn’t feel so right, but you went with it anyways.

What felt like two hours was only really thirty minutes, and the quiz was officially out of your hands. You felt ashamed handing it back — you knew your Professor would think you were a fool, a student who found excuses not to study. And that feeling was nagging you throughout the remainder of class.

“You don’t look so good,” Remus nudged your shoulder once you packed up your books, your entire body slouched and your lips curved downwards into a frown.

“I botched that so bad,” you groaned, tossing your head back and closing your book bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “I was too tired last night and didn’t study everything I wanted to.”

Empathetically, Remus wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you out of the crowded class. You were too busy sulking to pay attention to the fact that Sirius, James and Peter weren’t even with you guys.

“I’ll help you,” Remus said, voice laced with confidence, “I don’t want you doubting your intelligence so I, Remus Lupin, appoint myself as your own personal tutor.”

“Can people self-appoint themselves that?” your face broke into a grin, his humorous antics thankfully distracting you from your disappointment, “You’re too much.”

“But you love me,” he ruffled your hair, removing his arm from around you and slipping his hand into his pocket.

You chuckled, shaking your head as your heart leapt in your chest, “I really do.”

——

“I failed.”

Your voice was weak and quiet as you sat down on the Gryffindor table bench during lunch the week after, your mood rather sour. You had been incredibly worked up that morning, knowing you’d be getting your test results. But now that you’d gotten them, you wanted nothing more than to go back in time where you didn’t have to deal with the reality of the failure.

Remus’ face fell and he placed his hand on your knee, “Ah, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do so well either. I think this test was marked more strictly than they usually are.”

Though you appreciated the effort, it didn’t lift your spirits.

“I didn’t think I’d do bad enough to actually fail,” you sighed, slouching your shoulders and resting your elbows lazily on the table, “I’m mad at myself.”

“Hey,” Remus lifted his hand off of your knee and poked you in the shoulder, “Stop that. Seriously. Don’t put yourself down so much.”

“Hard not to,” you leaned forwards and rested your head on your hand, eyeing the food with a frown. Your appetite wasn’t present at the moment.

Remus snapped his fingers in front of your face, “I’m serious, Y/N. I’m here to help you, yeah? We’ll get through this. We’ll improve together. The next quiz won’t even stand a chance against us.”

You wanted to keep sulking, but his words brought a smile to your face. Remus had a way of cheering you up — him and his ways. Something about him.. you just couldn’t stay upset around him.

“Thanks,” you grinned, lifting your arm and poking him in the shoulder as he had done to you previously, “I do feel a little better.”

“Good!” he flashed you a toothy grin, his eyes brightening, “That’s always the intention.”

You stared at him for a good moment, the smile not leaving your face. His freckles seemed more visible than usual, his hair lighter and his eyelashes long against his cheeks each time he blinked. Though his hair was thin and brown, his eyelashes were thicker and darker — it was rather cute. His eyes had specks of green in them and, you had never really noticed before, they had some grey in them too.

You had to snap yourself out of the trance he left you in, unaware and unsure as to what caused it.

Had you just checked Remus out? No. Couldn’t be. He was your friend. Friend. Best friend.

You took a deep breath and began filling your plate, appetite suddenly back. You filled your stomach with chicken pot pie and potatoes, hoping that the faster you ate, the better you’d feel.

But nope.

Though your mind was off of your test, you somehow felt even worse. Remus was all you could focus on. His closeness, his kindness, his warmth, his smell.

“Ready for the afternoon?” Remus stuck his hand out to you as he stood up, shaking you from your weirdly romantic thoughts.

“What?” you blinked, “Oh — yeah, sorry.”

You shook your head and stood up, linking your hand with his as the two of you left the hall and took off towards your next class.

——

“No, no,” Remus shook his head, “You need to add this.”

You stared blankly down at the messy piece of parchment, nodding your head slowly, trying to remember which potion you guys had been talking about in the first place.

“Uh — which one again?” you asked sheepishly, your ears burning at the obvious fact that you weren’t paying attention, “Sorry.”

He let out a small laugh, placing his finger on the page in front of you, “This.”

You were glad that the library was quiet at this time of day, the cloudy weekend morning meaning most students would be choosing to start their day relaxing around in their pyjamas and drinking pumpkin juice.

You, however, while others students got to relax and spend the morning doing nothing, you had the great misfortune of being dragged out of the common room by an equally tired Remus.

“The library is empty in the morning,” he had said at your repeated groaning.

And he was right. The library was empty. The only sound you could hear was your quill scratching against your parchment and Remus’ whispered voice trying to teach you while respecting the library noise rules.

“What potion uses porcupine quills and peppermint sprigs?” he asked, resting his head on his hands and staring at you intently, his eyes focused on you and only you.

“Uh—,” you fought the urge to look down at your parchment notes, “Elixor to Induce Euphoria.”

He grinned, raising his hand to high five you, which you gladly accepted, “See! You got this!” You felt your face warm up at the contact and compliment.

“Next question,” he smirked, leaning even closer to you, “What would you say if I asked you to come to Hogsmeade for a drink?”

“I — what?”

As if the wind was knocked out of you, you couldn’t utter a single sound. Had you heard him right? There was no way.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” he chuckled.

But you still couldn’t find the words.

Yes, you had recently looked at Remus differently, but had it been a crush? It didn’t seem like it at first — but as you looked at him now, his face illuminated by the light outside and the way his hair stuck up in odd places, you realized you did like him.

You liked him. Him and his boisterous laugh, his nervous nail-biting habits, his love for poetry and snow. You loved how he’d always be there for you, ready to crack a corny joke when you were feeling down in the dumps. You loved how he’d always have a book recommendation and a long list of reasons why it would be worth the read. You loved how he always had the neatest handwriting, his notes providing you with bits of information you’d miss in class. How he’d always look forward to dessert because of how delicious he found the pumpkin pasties.

And all it took was him asking you out for you to realize you were falling for your best friend.

“I’d actually like that,” you nodded, aware that your cheeks were probably glowing but you were too giddy to care at the moment. Somehow, you felt as if this was right. There was no strangeness about him asking you — it somehow felt as if you had been waiting ages for him to do so.

“Thank Merlin,” he sighed, relaxing his entire body as his face lit up, “Next weekend?”

“Hm, can’t think of anything I’m doing,” you tapped your finger against your chin, eyebrows raised and your cheeks beginning to hurt from the bright smile you were sending his way. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this giddy.

He leaned across the table and linked his hands in yours. You melted into the contact, using your elbow to push your parchment and quill out of the way so you could lean forwards without fear of ruining your notes or your sweater.

Safe to say, studying was now long forgotten.

—

taglist:

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@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

@msmimimerton

@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

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(message me to be added!)

#remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin one shots #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin reader insert #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fics

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pixie88 · 3 years

Text

A Shoulder to Cry on

Chapter 17 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: This one is very Angsty I hope I haven’t over done it. Mentions of drug abuse. Sorry to be clogging up you tag notes with A&E - Alone chapter today and ATB today! I hope you like it.

Only tagging those who have asked. I hate to annoy people with tags.

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 2103

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

His house was the closest to Rem's but him bring the brother closest to her age, they had always gotten on better than the older two. Harry was at work with back to back sessions, she didn't want to bother him. He answers the door "Lai?" Her eyes are swollen and red "Lai, what's a matter?" He pulls her in for a hug "Nate, I thought I was doing the right thing!" She sobs.

"Hey! It's OK! Come on, let's get you off the doorstep. I'll make us a tea and you can tell me what is going on!" She follows him to the kitchen "Are the kids here?" She wipes the tears from her face, "No, Zeppy has gone to Vicky" he rolls his eyes at the mention of her name "And Jade has taken the boys swimming" he calls back as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A few minutes later he comes in with 2 cuppas "There you go! I can't remember if you take sugar or not"

"That'll do fine!" She smiles as he hands her the mug "So, what has upset ya?" She sighs not wanting to talk about it, but that's why she's here "It's Rem...he probably hates me. Alene has been in contact with Melissa and she wants to build bridges with Rem. I went round just now to have a word with him and he got angry and kicked me out" she sobs.

Nate rubs her back and hands her a tissue "Oh Lai! I'm sure he didn't mean it! It's just a sore subject for him, you know this more than anyone. Once he calms down, he'll realise he shouldn't have taken it out on you" Laila wipes her tears and takes a deep breath.

"I get why he is upset, I do...." Laila's phone starts to ring, she didn't want to speak to anyone right now other than Nate, so she ignored the call, a few seconds later her phone PINGS "You should get that maybe it's Rem?" she huffs pulling out her phone Harry's name appears across the screen.

"It's Harry, Alec has told him about what happened with Rem. Looks like he tried to call me too. I'll give him a call back in bit" she puts her phone away "I think Rems will be fine once he cools off. You've got to also think it's a big thing! Here he is building this new life with Alec and suddenly the past comes rolling in" She feels a little better after talking to Nate.

"So, Zeppy has gone to see her Mum?" Nate rolls his eyes "Yeah, not much I can do able that now she's 18" Nate just shook his head, he always worries when Zeppy is visiting Vic as she always comes home with an attitude.

15 Years ago

Zeppy and Vicky's mother and daughter relationship has always been up and down, but more downs than ups. When Zeppy was 3 Nate went to pick up Zeppy as usual, she would spend weekends with him, he knocked on the door and got no answer.

He knocked a few more times again, still no answer, as he opened the flap of the letter box he could see straight into the kitchen where Zeppy was turning the dials on the gas cooker hob.

That's when the smell of gas hit him, he calls out to Zeppy to stop and open the front door.

After Zeppy unlock the door he rushed his daughter out the house and into his car before going back inside to turn off the gas and in search of Vicky but there was no sign of her in the house. Zeppy's bag was packed near the front door, he picked it up and left the house.

30 minutes later a frantic Vicky calls him, after the 5th call he finally answers "PLEASE TELL ME, YOU HAVE HER NATHAN!!???" still angry she had left their 3 year old daughter in the house by herself, he decides to be cruel "Have who?" he calmly asks "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHO?? OUR DAUGHTER!!?" she screams down the phone at him.

"No, I'm running late. I did call to tell you" this was a lie he had called her after he found she had left Zeppy at home alone. "NATHAN! SHE'S GONE!!" she's sobbing on the other end of the phone "How?" he asked, hoping she won't lie like she has on other occasions. Like when Zeppy had used Vicky's phone to call him because Vicky had collapsed. When he got there she lied saying she had the flu, but he knew better the reason why she collapsed was the same reason they split - Drugs.

"She was in the shops with me....I turned away for a second and she was gone" this was the last straw for him. She had flat out lied to him, on the way to his, he asked Zeppy where Vicky was she told him that she had left with Scott (One of her druggie friends) and told her not to answer the door to anyone leaving her there.

"Good job she's safe then! I have her, I was early, but thank fuck I was! Vic, she was playing with the gas cooker! What the earth possessed you to leave our 3 year old daughter by herself?" Vicky knew she had been caught out "Nathan! You scared the shit outta me!" his blood boiled he couldn't even be bother to answer that she clearly couldn't see what she had done was wrong.

With the help of Terry and Liz, he won primary custody of Zeppy before she was 4. When Zeppy started school Nate was a single dad, so Liz would always pick up Zeppy from school as his job at his grandad's Garage was until 5PM. He met Jade on her first shift at the pub, he was covered in oil, but her smile won his heart the first time he saw her.

The next day he came to collect Zeppy he had gone home to change his clothes and shower. Liz looked a little confused when she saw Nate walk through the door clean and smart, but she soon realised why when her eyes followed the direction he was stupidly smiling in. He made the excuse that he and Zeppy would have dinner at the pub that night just so he could stay a little longer. By the end of the night he finally worked up the courage to ask her out....

2 years later.

Jade gave birth to their first son Blake by his first birthday they were married soon followed Isaac and Alfie.

When Jade had gone into labour with Blake, Vicky assumed she would automatically get Zeppy for a few days, but Nate had already planned for Liz and Terry to have her. This broke her heart, so she turned to her only friend and overdosed. Waking up in hospital, she was greeted by Nate stood at the bottom of her bed with a sad Zeppy. She smiled at her daughter as she opened her eyes, but Zeppy didn't return it "Zep? Baby, Aren't you happy to see Mummy?" she asked. Zeppy teared up, "NO!" she shouted back at her before storming off upset.

Vicky looked to Nate "I couldn't keep it a secret from her anymore Vic. She knows how you got here" the look of realizations spreads across her face, "You told her?!" she hissed, he leaned over the end of the bed "Believe it or not...she overheard the doctor. Vic this was supposed to be a happy time, but you went and shat all over it!" he walks off leaving her with nothing, but her tears.

Although Zeppy wasn't biologically Jade's daughter, she treated her exactly the same as the boys, Vicky hated this. Whenever Zeppy would call Jade Mum in front of Vicky on the supervised visits at the contact centres, she would always hiss "She's not your Mum!" Jade would ignore her.

Jade obviously knew what happened with Vicky, but she also understood she was a Mother and how much it must have hard her to hear her daughter call another woman Mum. Much to Nate's disapproval Jade always encouraged Vicky and Zeppy's relationship she even got him to change the fortnightly supervised visits to once a week. If it was left up to Nate, she wouldn't have any contact what so ever.

As far as Vicky was concerned, he thought Zeppy would be better off without her in her life. But Jade would always convince him as much as he doesn't, like her, it has to be Zeppy's decision on whether she kept in contact with her or not and if he took that away from her she would resent him for it. Zeppy kept contact in hope that one day she might have a normal Mum, one that might put her daughter and her health first.

So far that seems a long way off.

Present day

"Probably Vicky talking in her ear, but don't take it to heart, Nate" she smiles her phone rings again. She takes a look at the screen, it's Harry again "You better answer that he'll be worried about you" Nate gets up "I'll make us some lunch and you speak to your boyfriend" Laila answers the phone.

"Hey handsome!"

"Hi my love, Are you OK? Alec called me and told me about Rem's blowing up"

"Yeah, I'm OK! I'm at Nate's just talking about it with him"

"Are you sure you're OK? I can see if I can get Ollie to take on the rest of my PT sessions for today?"

She smiles at his sweetness "I'm fine now....what time do you finish? I'll pick you up in the car?"

"If you're sure? I finish at 4 today"

"Yeah, I'm sure and I'll see you at 4"

"OK 4...I love you!"

"I love you more"

Nate makes a gagging noise at his sister, she laughs as she hangs up "Things going well between you two then?" she rolls her eyes at him "Clearly!" he hands her a sandwich "Cucumber and lots of butter" she laughs, "You used to make me these for my packed lunches at school or if I was ill"

"You loved them, I remember someone telling mum not to make your lunch box because you wanted me to do it!"

"To be fair mum would normally chuck in some Jacobs crackers with butter and grated cheese, that stuff would always go everywhere! Do you make the kids these?"

"Yeah, Zeppy used to love them. Alf, Blake and Isaac still have them if they are having packed lunch"

They heard the front door slam "Jade? Zeppy?" Nate called out soon after he heard footsteps hammer up the stairs before another door slam "Zeppy?!" Laila said as she looked to Nate. He sighed and was about to get up from the sofa to deal with his daughter, but Laila grabbed his arm "Let me!"

He sat back down, leaving Laila to deal with one of Zeppy's mood swings. She knocks on the bedroom door to hear Zeppy yell "Dad, go away!" She knocks again "Zippy, it's me!" She heard her huff followed by footsteps coming closer.

The door swings open, Zeppy's eyes are swollen "Will you stop calling that Aunt Leia!" Laila laughs.

It was 3 months after Nate had found out about Zeppy that Laila first met Zeppy. She could never pronounce her name right, it always came out as Leia, it kinda stuck until she hit her teens and she started calling her Aunt Laila and she asked her to stop calling her Zippy.

"Are you going to let me in to have a chat?" she doesn't respond, she moves away from the door and wanders back into her room leaving the door open. Laila walks into the bedroom Zeppy is slumped on the side of her bed, head down looking at her feet. Laila saw her wiping her eyes, "Zep's, what's wrong?" she sits down next to her, Zeppy turns away from her "Come on, you can tell me!"

"She's using again!" she hisses towards Laila, she pulls Zeppy to her chest and she begins to sob "Am I not enough? I told her after the last time if she used again that's it...I'm cutting her out of my life"

It breaks Laila's heart to see her niece like this.

Why can't she see what an amazing daughter, she has!?

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 18.

@lem-20 @ridgy--didge @secretaryunpaid @irisofpurple @khoicesbyk @txemrn @tea-me-kah @casualpostqueen @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @beautifuluknownvoid

#atb #fictional story #Always The Bridesmaid #Original Work #original writing #original character #original story #pixie 88 #harry x laila

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coreastories · 4 years

Text

The Heartbeat

AO3: Part 14 of Days and Nights of Forever

One dark day for Corea, one terrifying day for Gon and Tae-eul, but life goes on.

When it's fate, there are no coincidences.

Directly follows

Corea News: The queen of Corea stuns in London and

Corea News: A dark day for Corea

I’m so sorry. When I dropped A Dark Day for Corea last Friday, I meant to get this done the next day and not prolong the suspense. But I underestimated it. Sunday came and went and I wasn’t done.

I spent all weekend finishing this so I couldn’t reply to you guys either. I mean, what could I say to you all wailing at me except that I’m writing, which I should DO, not say, right?

So here it is. 11,000 words. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy.

With thanks to @collectsfallenstars and @pateetsie for support and threats and encouragements and threats and confidence and threats and all the love and swearing at me.

November was more beautiful in Corea. Perhaps it was unfair to make the comparison because Corea just happened to be closer to the tropics, closer to the sun, farther from the frozen winds of the north, but she couldn’t help it, even if she did have one sunny day in London and that was considered lucky, Elizabeth had told her, especially in November!

No, lucky was living in this beautiful country, coming home to her husband, and with the view of all these red and gold trees outside the car window.

And she had breakfast ready when she got home. She grinned. She thought about calling Gon again but he was probably busy cooking, and she didn't want him to time her arrival. She'd already ruined her own surprise by giving in and calling him earlier.

“Jangmi, did you tell your omma we’re home?”

“Ye, Mama. And she says she’s got cheonggukjang ready for us.”

Both Tae-Eul and In-Yeong said, “Oh my God.” They laughed. Jangmi’s mother’s cheonggukjang was a hit among the guards-- and the king and queen.

And after days of British food, chonggukjang would be heavenly.

“Don’t tell Ho-pil until we’ve all had some,” said In-yeong. “I don’t know how he makes it disappear so fast. Maybe he has a black hole in his stomach and he just pours it in.”

They were still laughing when Tae-Eul saw it. The other car.

It was barrelling through the left of the intersection too fast. Too fast to make the turn it should make.

And then, in contrast to that speeding car, everything else went slow.

In this slower time, Tae-Eul recognized several things.

One: Jangmi was a good defensive driver and had already slowed and stopped the car.

Two: The other car could have crossed the road, perhaps grazing their front bumper, but it could have gone past all the same.

Three: The driver of the other car was too senseless to see the opportunity Jangmi provided to avoid collision. In the grip of panic and trying to control his car, Tae-eul saw him wrenching at the steering wheel with both arms in a mindless attempt to make his turn. Even though it was too late. Even though there was no room.

Four: At that speed, at that trajectory, the other car would nosedive into the side of their car.

Tae-Eul laid both arms across her lower belly and prayed to God and the fate that brought her here. Was lashing out praying? Because she lashed out in shock and anger that this would happen to her, to Gon, their child.

Maybe God heard her, or maybe it was her mind playing tricks to help her cope-- the crash was deafening but it was like a gentle rocking when it came.

It was what happened after that was terrifying.

Tae-Eul felt her seatbelt simultaneously loosen and tighten around her. For half a second, she was buffeted bodily against nothing but air before she felt secure again. There was a terrible noise like thunder right inside her ears and something slammed onto her face, stunning as a well-placed uppercut.

She was blinded and her eyes burned.

She tried to see what had happened to Jangmi and In-Yeong but she cried out at the pain and shut her eyes tight and kept both arms over her pelvis. A firebrand shot through her left shoulder and she cried out again but she kept her arms where they were.

That was when she prayed. With her eyes watering and burning and her ears ringing, she begged to be safe.

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

“How are you? It’s not too cold?”

“No. Or maybe I’m just hot. Go back to sleep. I’m going to bed, too.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“I had ban-ban on the plane. Go to sleep. I’ll call you when I wake up. Saranghae.”

“Saranghae.”

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

“I loved the music and the story but I was honestly so sleepy. It lasted more than two hours. In-yeong had to poke me several times. I lost count after the sixth one. Stop laughing. I bet you fall asleep watching it before it even gets good.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll call you again on your morning.”

“What are you making for your breakfast?”

“Nothing special. Just eggs and tofu and I have kaktugi.”

“Mmmm. I miss that.”

“I miss you. Go to sleep.”

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

“Don’t worry so much. Just think of her as any old ahjumma.”

“Are you crazy? She’s the queen.”

“No, she’s not. Not to me. Not to the kingdom missing you. You’re the queen here. She’s a queen. You’re a queen. You’re equals.”

“I’m wrinkling my nose at that but I miss you. You should have come with me.”

“You said--”

“What do you want me to bring you?”

“Nothing. Just come home.”

"How cheesy."

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

“How was the food?”

“Quite good. I’ve had Angus roast, fish and chips, a full English breakfast-- the sausages here are good, maybe I can bring some-- scones and clotted cream-- I need you or the cooks to learn to make that-- cottage pie, shepherd’s pie, crumpets, and this thing they call Welsh rarebit? It’s cheese and toast. And I loved the vegetables in my salads.

“And the milk and cream here--I think it tastes a little bit like Corea’s. It’s so creamy and delicately sweet.

“I love their chocolate. Cadbury’s. I think we have it at home, right? Should I order more?

“I forgot to tell you-- I almost drank alcohol at brunch when they sent more dishes and apple cider to our table with the chef’s compliments. In-Yeong thought it was juice too. They forgot I was pregnant. I was taking a sip and it didn’t smell and taste like alcohol but Elizabeth took my glass and told me it can be quite strong here.

“I can’t wait to eat ramyeon, though. And ban-ban. I’ll have them when I’m on the plane. What are you laughing at?”

“You talked for five minutes about food.”

“That wasn’t five minutes!”

“I love you. I miss you so much. I’ll see you in… sixteen hours.”

“I can’t wait.”

“To see me? Or for ban-ban and ramyeon?”

“Take a guess.”

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

“I’m here.”

“What?”

“I flew earlier. I wanted to surprise you. I’ll just drive over. Jangmi was on the phone with Yeong long before we landed so I’m sure they’ve arranged things for the escort.”

“But I was going to pick you up-- all right. I’ll see you here, then. Do you want breakfast?”

“Oh do I! I want everything. I want moo saengchae and galbi and my mouth is watering and I can’t talk anymore. Stop laughing.”

“I’ll make everything. Saranghae.”

“Nado saranghae.”

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

Gon clung to her voice in his head while everything else seemed to ring and clamor in an infuriating barrage of noise.

He had been talking to her less than an hour ago.

Less than an hour ago, his only thought had been kissing his wife, making breakfast, and holding his wife, his queen, the mother of his child, the best part of his life.

Now he couldn’t get enough air. His mouth was dry and he felt like he’d be violently ill. His hands were fists on his knees and he resisted the urge to thump something.

He prayed. He listened to her voice from their last conversations together and he prayed. He sat there in the back of his car and prayed as they sped to the hospital. He begged that they weren't his last conversations with her. Begged for her safety. Her safety was his child’s. Both of them had to be safe. He begged to hear that voice again soon. Now.

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

Yeong sat in the front seat and tried not to let his brain spirale. He needed facts, not speculations and imaginings. In his ear, he could hear his team as they kept him up to date on every minute detail. Everyone was his eyes and ears. Yeong listened and tried to stay in the present, not any horrendous future. He was trained to look ten steps ahead. But it was difficult in this case. His brain refused to catalogue the unthinkable.

The king was quiet in the back seat, still as pale as when Yeong first told him what had happened.

The queen was supposed to arrive at ten this morning. Yeong already had plans in place for the escort going to the airport and back, because the king wanted to pick up the queen.

Nine am and the PA office would have given word to the media whether or not the press could gather at the airport. Yeong had already coordinated with the airport authority for traffic and crowd control as a contingency.

He would have received a brief from the PA office and given a brief to the teams at eight-thirty.

Before seven o’clock, his phone rang. Jangmi told him the queen’s jet was already approaching Corean airspace and the early arrival was supposed to be a surprise for the king. It was testament to how much Yeong had changed-- or how much he had gotten used to the king and queen anyway-- that he didn’t even sigh. He just ended the call, made another, and deployed Ho-pil’s team to the airport in their SUVs.

At eight o’clock, Ho-Pil called him.

“Seonsaengnim. Code Orange. Collision with civilian vehicle. The queen seems to not have major external trauma. No... bleeding. En route to CorGen now. Civilian in custody. Also en route to CorGen under escort. Jang and Park also injured. En route to CorGen.”

A pause. Yeong couldn’t speak and Ho-pil seemed to be catching his breath. And Yeong stupidly waited for the punchline. That he was being pranked. Dumb and dangerous prank, but a prank all the same. But all Ho-pil said next was, “Captain, that fucker was fucking soused. I could smell him when they loaded him on the ambulance. I wish I could kill him.”

Yeong closed his eyes and tried not to close both fists. Wouldn’t do to break his phone right now. “You said she’s not bleeding?” They both knew the significance of what he meant.

“No. But after examining her for a bit, they sedated her. They said it was because she couldn’t breathe properly and her heart was already working too hard, which would be bad for both of them. She has a bad friction burn on her left cheek from the airbag. The other windows all held except Jangmi's so the queen didn’t have lacerations. In-Yeong broke her wrist. And Jangmi took a real beating. When they were getting him out, they were so careful, but he still cried out. Never heard him make that noise before. And they both couldn’t hear me, Captain.”

Yeong took a deep breath. Ho-pil’s report gave him information and time enough to get back his wits and his sense of duty. It was his queen, not his friend. Not his best friend’s wife. And he had to go tell his king, not his best friend.

“CorGen knows to keep quiet when it’s the royal family. And they know protocol. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Yes, Seonsaengnim. And the EMTs already called Seonsaeng Chae. I’ll call you with updates if you don’t join us first.”

Yeong hung up. He must have drooped during the call because he realized he had to square his shoulders as he went to find the king. He was almost relieved when the king wasn’t in his suite. To make things simple, he asked the control tower where the king had gone. With the queen away, he could be anywhere.

The control tower answered quickly: The kitchen.

Right. Of course. The queen had probably already called him.

When he entered the kitchen, the king was laying a slab of meat on the grill pan.

“Yeong-ah. We don’t need to leave. She’s already on her wa--”

One look at Yeong’s face and the king stopped talking. In quick, efficient movements, the king turned everything off, wiped his hands on a towel, and rounded the counter. “What happened?” His voice was clipped and dangerous.

Yeong told him. He saw the color drain from the king’s face with every word.

And then there wasn’t really anything else to say other than, “The car’s ready.”

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

CorGen was used to VIPs. This hospital was where high society wanted to be treated. They had six VIP rooms and these went to ministers and their families, athletes, actors, chaebol owners, heirs and executives.

Royalty was a different level altogether. With the queen pregnant and seeing a CorGen doctor, they’ve opened the seventh VIP room. It was reserved for the royal family, always had been since the hospital opened, but the king had never used it yet in his lifetime.

While the hospital preened at the prestige of opening VIP 7 at last, no one had imagined VIP 7 would ever be needed yet.

Because the queen was only at fifteen weeks.

So when the full force of the Royal Guard arrived at the ER, there was a momentary stupefaction as if everyone was waiting for someone to tell them what to do, or to tell them it was just a tasteless, dangerous joke: it couldn’t really be the queen in that gurney.

Song-eun, arriving at the ER to attend to the queen, saw that freeze. She had frozen herself. She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until she exhaled when she saw the queen wasn’t bleeding. She had expected the worst.

And then everyone moved in sync.

They wheeled the queen straight to the prepared trauma room and surrounded her while the EMT and residents rattled off vitals and conditions. Airway and breathing good. Hypotensive because of vasodilation, CO at 45% higher than normal, right, they would fix that. The queen was already on oxygen and fluids. Pulse ox was stabilizing.

“Mama, I’m here. You’re with me,” Song-eun said to Tae-eul, this queen who had made Song-eun a friend, a sister. “I’m going to take care of you and the little bean.”

Sok-jun joined her with two other attendings--neuro and trauma--and they all rattled off directions to their residents and interns. One of them took samples for the trauma panel and the KB test while Song-eun assessed the queen.

“Mama, I’m going to perform a pelvic exam to check on you, okay?”

Under the sheet, her hands moving efficiently, no blood, everything normal. Good.

The queen was already in a neck brace, and she didn’t seem to have spinal injuries as the EMTs have said. The fetal HR monitor beeped steadily. Almost sixteen weeks. Could probably detect omma had been in trouble.

“Mama, you’re doing good so far. And the little bean isn’t upset either.”

Sok-jun was finished with his own examination and did FAST again even though the EMT’s already did. Song-eun scanned the monitor alongside him. No free fluid. Good. He met Song-eun’s eyes and nodded and left.

The neuro attending was already examining the queen’s eyes. Song-eun saw what he saw. “Reactive, symmetrical pupils.” Thank heavens. Good reaction to stimulus. “We can check for focal deficits later. Keep her stabilized.”

Both of Tae-eul’s eyes were red with corneal abrasion and Song-eun winced. She gestured to one of the interns to administer antibiotic eye drops.

“Get me that KB test result asap,” she said as Tae-eul got the polymyxin for her eyes and an ortho team looked at the queen’s legs, which had ugly bruises. But they were superficial. “Let’s use the Lodox right now and then take her to CT. Head and chest just to be sure." Neuro nodded. "Keep her asleep for another hour. Mom and baby are stable. Let’s keep it that way.”

She’d just only noticed and recognized Seok Ho-pil when he spoke. He had stood quietly at the door, not getting in the way, but not relenting to be pushed out either.

“Seonsaengnim, forgive me-- are all those safe for Her Majesty? The CT and the Lodox? What’s the KB test? And can she hear you? I thought she was sedated so she won’t be distressed?”

Song-eun nodded. “We talk to patients under sedation. Sometimes they can hear us. And no, she’s not in distress or in pain, don’t worry. And yes, everything’s safe. Absolutely. I want the CT of her head and chest because that’s where the airbags hit. The Lodox is a full body scan, very safe, low-dose x-ray. I don’t want to miss any injury at all. The Lodox will see if there’s any and we can determine if we need more imaging done then. The KB test is to check if and how much the baby’s hemoglobin transferred to the mother’s bloodstream and we can prevent the potential of Rhesus disease if mom and baby have different Rh blood factors.”

She looked at the rest of the Royal Guard, all listening intently. They were probably privy to the fact that the queen was a rare B negative. It was why Song-eun had been so afraid if the queen was bleeding. Only 1 in 3000 Coreans matched Tae-eul’s Rhesus negative blood. She could take O-neg, but if she needed platelets… Song-eun shuddered. At least she hadn’t slipped and informed the entire room. But the entire room would probably be under NDAs in a matter of minutes.

She could see eight guards in total, scattered in the ER lobby, gathering stares from everyone, and three had already moved ahead, probably to check the Diagnostics Room where the Lodox was.

And then suddenly there were more black suits almost completely covering up the seafoam walls of the hospital.

Song-eun stepped out of the trauma room and came face to face with the king.

She had faced her share of devastated husbands in her career and she hoped she never had to look at the king looking like that again. This was her king and her namdongsaeng and it was heartbreaking to see him so terrified.

She broke protocol and spoke first. “Pyeha, we’re still about to confirm with CT and Lodox about the queen’s injuries, but the baby seems to be fine right now and the queen has passed all tests so far. We just need to confirm and keep them both stable. We’ll do our best. We have everything we need here.”

The king didn’t speak, just stepped past her and into the room. His eyes landed on the monitors and then on the queen. Song-eun was glad everyone had been prompt and fastidious about keeping the queen under a warm sheet.

As it was, the king only saw the queen’s face, with those angry red patches on her left cheek and jaw. The king took a deep shuddering breath and released it, hands rising and fingertips pressing to his eyes.

Song-eun looked away.

She nodded to the orderlies scattered like discarded umbrellas because of the arrival of the Royal Guard. They were easy to spot in their lilac scrubs in the mass of black suits. The two closest bowed to the guards on the way, bowed to the king, bowed to the queen, and then pushed and pulled the gurney.

The king startled as if he was going to grab the gurney but stopped himself. Song-eun laid a hand on his arm, and he jumped again.

Song-eun pressed her hand on his arm more firmly. “We’re taking Her Majesty to the Lodox and then to CT. You can come with us if you like, Pyeha.”

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

Ok-nam watched Mo Jin-ha burst into tears and wished she could just as easily let go like that. But she couldn’t, she never had, and one of these days, it might kill her, but she wasn’t going to faint this time.

Not until she heard something that would really make her faint.

“I’m sorry-- it’s just-- you know how much I struggled before I finally had Woo-jin and this is-- this is awful.”

Ok-nam patted Jin-ha on the shoulder. Poor Jin-ha had had three miscarriages. It was why she was here, crying, instead of following the king to CorGen. Woo-jin was her little miracle, but the loss of her other children still stung. Would always do.

“Hush now. Let’s wait and pray. We should hear from them any moment now. And you need to make an announcement before rumors spread.”

Jin-ha nodded, wiping tears and straightening her spine. Ok-nam turned to the two policemen who had arrived, hoping to get a statement here but instead seeing the press secretary lose the composure she was famous for.

“Drink your tea, gentlemen,” Ok-nam said. “You do have colleagues who went to the hospital?”

“Yes, ma’am. But if we could get a statement from you--when you hear from them-- then we wouldn’t need to disturb Their Majesties.”

Jin-ha gave another sob. “Oh, the poor queen. She loves that baby so much-- I hope she doesn’t--”

Ok-nam thumped a hand on her chabudai and Jin-ha and both men jumped. “Stop that,” Ok-nam said, ignoring how her heart thumped mournfully and fearfully in her chest. “Don’t think that. Don’t speak of that.”

The phone rang and they all jumped again. Ok-nam answered it just as Seung-ah arrived and knelt beside her.

“Captain Jo, what has--”

“Lady Noh. The queen is fine. No major injuries. They’re still monitoring the queen and the baby. The king is with her. They’re getting her scans.” Ok-nam closed her eyes and sagged in relief. Jin-ha gave a sob of relief and Ok-nam shushed her.

“Seung-ah has the accident footage so you can see,” Jo Yeong continued over the phone. “We’ve already released it to the police. Jangmi has a clavicle fracture and rib fractures and In-yeong has a broken wrist, three fractured fingers, bruised ribs.”

Poor Jangmi and In-yeong. “Do you-- do you have that driver?”

“Yes.” And that was all Yeong said. Ok-nam heard rage in that calm voice. She felt rage herself. “I’ve sent all information to Secretary Mo. She can make the statement at her discretion. I’ll update you.”

Ok-nam put the phone back in its cradle. Seung-ah, pale-faced and pale-lipped, raised her iPad but Ok-nam turned away.

“Are you mad? I don’t want to see it. Show it to these gentlemen.”

Jin-ha seemed to have already received the same footage and the information Captain Jo mentioned in her iPad, and judging by her gasping over the screen, Ok-nam made the right decision not to look at the footage.

“I’m going to pray.”

She took a private, empty, circuitous route so she wouldn’t trail anxious and hysterical court maids and court ladies. She had no time and no patience to comfort anyone.

In the kitchen garden amongst the onggi, her tears surprised her. She wiped them almost angrily.

There was no call for tears yet.

She bowed and prayed.

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

The sound is not unlike galloping horses. Maybe galloping horses on the coast, because he can also hear a swishing noise like the wind and the surf.

Tae-eul is laughing. “It’s so loud and fast! Are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks his eyes and sniffs as quietly as he can. He sees Song-eun biting her lips and looking amused as she holds the Doppler against Tae-eul’s belly.

Tae-eul squeezes his hand. He moves his eyes away from the ultrasound screen just as she also does. Their eyes meet, and his breath stutters a bit because her eyes are at their most beautiful yet since he met her.

He kisses her hand. And with their child's heartbeat drumming in the background, they grin at each other.

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

Gon listened to it more times than he'd admit. It was in his playlist for cooking breakfast. He even danced to it in the shower. Tae-eul had caught him at it one time and had laughed so hard and so long she had to sit on the floor.

She didn’t tease him about it, but she invariably looked at him and giggled whenever anyone brought up the baby’s heartbeat or when she listened to the file in her own phone.

He stopped the audio file and put his phone back in his pocket. The beeps of the two heart rate monitors were discordant and so different from the rhythmic gallop and swish of his baby’s real heartbeat but he let those beeps deafen him to everything else.

He kissed Tae-eul’s hand and wished her awake.

She was so pale against the cream sheets on the bed. She now had bandages over her cheek and jaw. Her eyelids were rimmed with red. Her brows were slightly furrowed. She wasn’t tranquil in her sleep.

They’d told him she wasn’t in pain. What scared him was if she was trapped in some nightmare after the terrifying experience she just went through.

It had been almost an hour or so since the tests were done. The CT and the Lodox both found a hairline fracture on her left clavicle.

They’d put her arm in a sling for that and kept her in the neck brace in case of whiplash. Everything else seemed fine. Her head, her spine. Until she woke up and complained of what else hurt, they had no way of knowing, apart from the bad bruising on her left shoulder, on her toes, and on the front of her shins when her legs might have flown and hit against the front seat.

Her blood pressure was back to normal. They’d told him she had been distressed--in the emotional term-- when the ambulance arrived, her heart rate too fast and her breathing erratic, which was why they sedated her and put her on oxygen immediately.

He just knew why she’d been so anxious and afraid.

Song-eun walked into the room and Gon blinked back the sting in his eyes. “Noona.”

“Pyeha. You know Her Majesty is Rhesus negative. We can confirm now that Little bean is Rhesus positive, just like you. We found some hemoglobin of little bean’s in the queen’s circulation so I’m giving her the RhoGAM now.”

Gon watched Song-eun administer the shot on Tae-eul’s arm.

So he saw it when Tae-eul grabbed Song-eun’s hand.

“Mama, you’re awake. How are you feeling? I just gave you a RhoGAM shot. We talked about it before.”

Gon got up and Tae-eul saw him. She let go of Song-eun and reached for him with both hands at first, but both hands went to her belly below her navel, where the fetal HR monitor’s attachments were.

The vital signs monitor made a harsh protest. Tae-eul’s heart rate was spiking.

Gon said, “Tae-eul, you’re all right, the baby’s okay.”

She looked at him and opened her mouth to speak but made an expression of pain, touched her jaw, and cried out when she discovered the raw skin of her burn there.

Gon grabbed her hands in his, looked into her eyes and said, “Tae-eul. You’re all right. The baby’s all right.”

She just looked at him as if she couldn’t understand him. And she was already crying.

Gon stared at her. Why wasn’t she-- and then it clicked. She was probably still deaf from the airbags. He looked at Song-eun and she had obviously come to the same conclusion. She tapped her ears, and then pointed and nodded at the fetal monitor, already rounding the bed to get to it herself.

Gon beat her to it. He let go of Tae-eul with one hand and reached for the fetal monitor to turn the screen toward Tae-eul. His movement was enough to make Tae-eul look in that direction, turning her head as much as she could in the brace.

Gon returned both hands to cradle hers. He bent down to press his lips against her fingertips. He could feel himself shaking with relief now that she was awake.

She looked at the fetal monitor for long moments. The vital signs monitor quieted but her crying continued. Gon bent over her and gently took her in his arms without actually lifting her up. He snaked one arm under her waist and the other arm under her side. She sobbed against his shoulder and he felt her grip the back of his pullover.

He pressed his cheek against her hair, glad she was awake, his heart breaking a little with each sob. She shouldn’t have had to go through this. This much fear. This much worry.

Her sobs slowly stopped until she was only taking deep shuddering breaths. Gon gently pulled back his arms, kissed her uninjured cheek, and wiped her eyes, careful not to actually go near her eyelids with the tissues.

Song-eun caught Tae-eul’s attention. As if she hadn’t just witnessed a breakdown, Song-eun spoke and gestured at the same time, and she enunciated carefully so that even Gon saw her words as much as heard them.

“Tae-eul. Look at me. Baby is here--” Song-eun cupped both hands low on her belly, over her pelvis. “Airbag was here--” Song-eun pointed both open palms on her shoulders and mimed the slam of the airbags over her face and shoulders with a slamming movement of her hands.

“So baby is safe. Okay?” She turned to Gon. “And your car was awesome. God. I have to get one of those.”

“I’ll buy you one,” Gon said, without taking his eyes off Tae-eul. She had calmed down, wincing and squinting with her eyes, looking between them and the fetal monitor.

Song-eun nudged him away from Tae-eul’s side and took his place, sitting beside Tae-eul’s hip and leaning forward to Tae-eul. She held up her index finger. “Follow the finger, Mama. Good. Okay. I’m going to use my light.” She shone that light in and out of Tae-eul’s eyes. Then she placed both her palms under Tae-eul’s. “Pyeha, show her to push on my hands. I saw how she gripped your sweater but I want to make sure.”

Gon mimed bearing down with his hands. Tae-eul pushed. Next, Song-eun mimed making fists with both hands. Tae-eul did that, too. Song-eun swiveled her hips on the bed so she faced the window, leaned back on her hands, and extended and raised her legs, one after the other. Tae-eul did the same.

Song-eun smiled and squeezed Tae-eul’s hands. “Good, good. Just need to wait for your ears to come back. They’ll be back in a bit. You’re good.”

Gon nudged Song-eun aside and she willingly went, smiling. He pushed the button on the side panel and raised Tae-eul’s bed gently, watching her face for any discomfort from her fracture.

Then when she was more or less sitting up, he leaned forward and hugged her as gently as he could, kissed her on the forehead and on her right cheek. He felt her arms close around his waist, and he pulled back before she tried to raise her arms higher. He didn’t want her to strain her fracture.

He enunciated like he saw Song-eun do, not exaggerated but clearly defining each syllable. “Are you all right? Does anything hurt?”

Her eyes went from his lips to his eyes. She spoke carefully now, testing how much her jaw would let her do. “Why can’t I hear you?”

Gon said, “The airbags.”

Song-eun said, “It’s temporary. Around sixteen to forty-eight hours. Is there a ringing noise?”

It took three tries before Tae-eul understood the question, then she shook her head no.

“Oh, good. I’m glad you don’t have tinnitus.” Song-eun cast another long look at the vital signs monitor, smiled at Tae-eul, retrieved the empty syringe she’d dropped when Tae-eul grabbed her, and left, saying she’ll be back later.

“Did you catch that? She said your deafness will last overnight or two days.”

Tae-eul nodded. Then she looked past him at the fetal monitor again, blinking, her eyes spilling tears. Her hands went up to her eyes and Gon stopped her hands before they made contact. She looked at him, wincing. “My eyes hurt.” “I know. I’m sorry. That’s from the airbags, too. Here, noona gave me your eye drops.”

If she didn’t catch that, she quickly understood when he came back to her side with the bottle he’d fetched from her bedside table. Tae-eul being Tae-eul, she tried to be helpful. When she couldn’t tilt her head back at all in the neck brace, she tried anyway. “Ow.” She looked down at her shoulder and her sling as if discovering it for the first time.

Gon used her bed’s recliner and applied the eye drops.

“You have a crack on your clavicle. So don’t move your shoulder or your arms. Does your neck hurt? We’re not sure if you have some muscle strain there.”

“Will you just use your phone? Or find a pen and paper. A… a whiteboard and marker. I’m getting tired trying to read your lips.”

That return of her spirit made him smile. He put down the bottle of eye drops and started writing on her palm instead. And grinned when she also smiled.

But when he was done, her lips were trembling and her face was twisting. She reached for him without raising her hands much from her lap.

Carefully so he wouldn’t jolt her injuries, he moved forward where he sat on her right. He slid his arm around her waist and gently pulled her close. She sighed and entirely rested her right side against him.

“I can’t believe it. Just-- just my collarbone?”

He nodded. It wasn’t just her collarbone, but he could elaborate later.

“I was so scared. I thought it would be worse--”

“Me too.” He wrote the hangul on her palm.

“What about Jangmi and In-yeong?”

“They’re okay, but they have fractures. They’re in surgery to fix them.”

“Oh no. Fractures where?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’ve been with you all this time.”

“They’re going to be so frustrated,” Tae-eul said. “They’ll have to be off-duty.”

“Well, you’ll also be off-duty. You can all be off-duty together.”

“Talk again.”

“What is it?”

She pressed her hand against his chest. “I can feel your voice.”

“Oh. It’s the vibrations.”

She pressed her fingertips at his throat. “I feel your voice better here. Say something.”

“Saranghae. I was scared to death. I’m grateful you’re all right. Are you really all right?”

She nodded, eyes spilling tears again. “You and Song-eun said I am.” And her eyes flicked to the fetal monitor.

Gon sighed and held her closer.

“And you’re sure the baby’s all right? What did Song-eun say?”

This time, he took his phone out of his pocket and typed on it with his arms around her.

She said we’re lucky you’re only almost 16 weeks. The baby’s still small, and the layers of protection are thicker than if you were further along. You did have to get a RhoGAM shot now, and Song-eun says she’ll monitor the baby for Rhesus disease from now on.

Tae-eul was nodding as she read his screen. The Rhesus incompatibility situation wasn’t new to them. They’d learned about it in her first screenings.

Do you have other questions?

Tae-eul stiffened a little in his arms, and Gon thought she was finally going to ask about the driver. Gon had been trying not to think of him either. He had focused on Tae-eul, but now that she was awake and asking questions, the driver was invading his thoughts.

He still didn’t know much aside from the fact that he was completely drunk.

However, after relaxing in his arms again, Tae-eul poked the top right of his phone screen and said, “It’s almost eleven. Why am I not hungry? I haven’t eaten in twelve hours.”

Gon exhaled a laugh. He kissed her hair. He loved this woman. He typed, You ate at eleven pm?

“Don’t go there.”

Still smiling, he typed, I think they gave you something in your IV so you won’t feel acidic and hungry in case you stayed asleep longer. And they gave you vitamins and other essentials. I’ll go ask if you can eat.

He gently maneuvered her back onto her bed. She sighed against her pillow and then looked at the fetal monitor again. Her eyes suddenly went droopy, and Gon knew her adrenaline spike after waking up had worn off now that she knew their baby was safe. And her eyes were probably tired anyway. With her corneal abrasions, sleeping would do her good.

“Hold off on the food,” she said as she closed her eyes. “But get me my kalbi.”

Gon pushed the bed’s button again and put the bed back in full recline. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, and then on her lips, lingering there for several long moments. He loved her, he had missed her, and today he’d nearly lost her.

When they parted, she said, “Saranghae.”

“Nado.”

He didn’t leave her, of course. Gon dropped on the armchair and took several deep breaths, exhaling quietly. His relief sent him doubling over, elbows on his knees, and he thanked God over and over. A litany of Gamsahabnida.

Then he leaned back on the armchair and just looked at her. Now her face no longer looked pinched, as if she was truly sleeping now. Once he was sure she was in deep sleep, Gon hit 3 on his phone.

“Yeong. Ask Dr Chae if Tae-eul can eat. She’s asleep now but she asked about food.”

“Ye, Pyeha.” And before Gon could ask, Yeong added, “My report is in the Drive. I have a lead so I’m about to leave, Pyeha. We’ll continue updating the doc.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Gon took a deep breath and navigated to the Drive. He wasn’t about to leave Tae-eul’s side and Yeong couldn’t deliver the report personally, so this Drive folder, usually for documentation only and something Gon had never looked at, came in handy.

He saw the thumbnail of the footage and his jaw clenched. As king and sovereign justice, he had to watch it.

He watched Jangmi approach the intersection defensively, not crossing it even with the light on green because of that suspicious oncoming white car from the left.

He watched the white car barrel through the intersection-- other cars swerving to a halt.

He watched his wife’s car stop beyond the path of the white car, just like all other cars had done.

He watched the white car swerve for no reason at the last second and ram into his wife’s car, even though practically all the cars had given it a clear path across.

He watched it twice and closed the video before his blood boiling made him throw his phone at the wall.

He could feel his jaw trembling with rage and he swore under his breath to release some of his anger. It made him feel dirty even though Tae-eul was asleep and couldn’t have heard him. He rubbed his hands over his face and looked at Tae-eul, letting the sight of her calm him.

He opened the report next. Aside from details that he already knew, like the time and location of the collision, and Tae-eul’s condition at the time of the ambulance response, it now included photos of Jangmi’s and In-yeong’s x-rays and Yeong’s notes.

Jang Mi-reuk:

lacerations on the face, neck and arm (left)

Type 1 distal clavicle fracture (left)

Type A oblique rib fractures (left posterior 4th, 5th and 6th ribs)

Type B transverse rib fracture (left posterior 7th rib)

30% pneumothorax (left lung)

severe bruising on the left side

sensorineural hearing loss and tinnitus (prognosis: temporary)

Park In-yeong:

bruised ribs (left)

distal radius fracture (right)

displaced, mid-shaft and intra-articular fractures of the phalanges (left little finger, ring finger and middle finger)

sensorineural hearing loss (prognosis: temporary)

Gon was glad Jangmi wasn’t worse. He was the only one on the left side of the car, the side of the collision. The other car had rammed the queen’s car a little behind Jangmi’s seat, and even with the car’s airbags and collision safety technology, look at all those broken bones. And his lung had collapsed.

Yeong’s report says they didn’t know how exactly In-yeong broke her wrist and fingers. Probably from slamming them against something during the crash.

Damn. And it was In-yeong’s right wrist. She wouldn’t be able to shoot a gun for weeks. The little crack shot wouldn’t like that.

The next page was about the driver.

Gon read it all but the only thing that stood out was the blood alcohol concentration. The driver weighed 160 pounds with .25 BAC.

That was beyond driving under the influence. Influence was about a quarter of the man’s blood alcohol level. What the driver did was practically--

Gon’s brain supplied manslaughter. He closed his eyes. No one had died. But someone could have. Someone could have. And if Gon hadn’t bought the safest car in the world, or if Jangmi simply chose any of the other cars in the fleet, where would Gon be right now?

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

“SPEAK UP! I ASKED YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO THE QUEEN AND YOU HAVE TO ANSWER ME!”

Ho-pil gestured to Dong-min and ran to VIP 6, the VIP room where he could hear Jangmi bellowing. He found the man shouting at his nurse from his bed by the window.

On the other bed, In-yeong was awake and looking mournful. When she saw Ho-pil, she said, “I can’t hear it but it’s hurting my eardrums. How’s the queen?”

Ho-pil gave her two thumbs up. Queen was okay. Baby was okay. In-yeong sighed and then winced when that action jogged her ribs.

Ho-pil marched over to Jangmi, who was still bellowing like a wounded bull.

He was a wounded bull. His face, neck and arms were bandaged, his torso was bandaged and in thick braces. He also had a bandage over his clavicle where his surgery incision was. His left arm was in a sling secured with straps to keep his shoulder immobile.

When he saw Ho-pil, he stopped shouting. But he was still yelling. Ho-pil winced. “Sunbaenim. How’s the queen?”

Ho-pil repeated the two thumbs up that worked with In-yeong.

Jangmi burst into tears.

“Should I have moved the car and tried to avoid it? It happened so fast. I should have done something.”

Ahh shit. Poor Jangmi. Ho-pil pulled out his phone and typed rapidly.

You did exactly what I would have done if I’d been the one at the wheel. This wouldn’t have happened if that other bastard wasn’t blind drunk. The queen is fine. She has a clavicle fracture like you, but not as bad. And there’s something about her getting the Rhesus injection thing because she has that rare negative blood type and the baby’s a positive. Don’t terrorize your nurses. They’re the ones who’ll give you food and pain meds.

He showed the screen to Jangmi and the great bull calmed down with every word, and then turned sheepish by the end.

“I’m sorry, sunbaenim. Thank you. But I still want to apologize to the queen. Can we see the queen?”

Ho-pil mouthed, “Can you get up?”

“Sure, if you help me.”

“I’ll help you later. Rest for now. I think Their Majesties will let us know if they want to see--”

Dong-min pounded on the open door and waved frantically at Ho-pil. “Seonsaengnim, the king wants--”

And then the king himself stepped into the room.

They all bowed their heads. Not just out of respect. The king looked murderous. For some reason, Ho-pil had a flashback he couldn’t identify because he had never seen the king like this before, but his mind told him the king was dangerous when he looked like this.

And contrary to Jangmi, the king spoke in quiet, precise syllables that made the hair on Ho-pil’s neck rise.

“Sub-captain Seok. Captain Jo is already investigating that man.” Ho-pil heard disgust and knew the king wanted to call the man something else. Ho-pil already did in his own head. “He has a lead somewhere else. Now I want information on where that man drank all night. If it was an establishment, the owner, and the staff who served him. If it was a private party, who he was with. Call his employers or his employees.”

“Ye, Pyeha. His family, too?”

“We already know his family. Captain Jo sent it in. In any case, I don’t want testimony from anyone who might beg for him not to die.”

“Ye, Pyeha.”

With a nod toward In-yeong and Jangmi, the king left.

They waited ten seconds, and then In-yeong and Jangmi asked him what the king said. Ho-pil typed it on his phone and showed it first to In-yeong, and then to Jangmi.

In-yeong had just looked vindictive. Jangmi spoke their thoughts aloud. Real loud.

“HOLY SHIT.”

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

A loud, grinding noise and the crash of metal against metal.

The piercing shatter of glass breaking. The explosive full blast of airbags. Brakes squealing.

Pain and burning on her eyes, her shoulder, her legs, everywhere. She struggled to part her eyelids but they wouldn’t cooperate beyond a small squint. She couldn’t see Jangmi and In-yeong at all.

She couldn’t hear anything either.

Someone was lifting her and she told them to be careful, she was pregnant, but if they heard her she had no idea-- she knew she was speaking but the way she heard herself was different. Was she dead and was it this quiet when you were dead?

She couldn’t be dead-- she was going to have a baby. And Gon would be devastated. No, no.

Suddenly, her eyes were open and she saw the car coming again as if to finish the job now that the paramedics had brought her out of the shelter of the car.

Determined that it wouldn’t get her this time, she struggled against the paramedics and ran with all her might away from them all, away from that car.

But it still hit her and she felt that gentle and violent rocking again.

It made her ill.

Suddenly, she realized she really was throwing up over a basin. Her eyes were really open. When she was done, she could see beyond the basin and her sheets. Cream sheets and blankets now being gently and efficiently changed around her by court maids in their familiar uniform. Leaf green walls and cream paneling and a big glass window showing the dimming light of sunset.

She was in a hospital room, not a highway full of stopped traffic and one murderous car.

Something cool and comforting was being pressed against the right side of her face. Comforting in contrast to the dull ache she felt in her legs and feet, her shoulder, her face. Everything hurt.

Gon was beside her. He was the one holding the basin and the towel against her cheek. When he saw she was really done being sick, he passed the basin to a court maid, wiped Tae-eul’s mouth with the towel, and offered her a glass of water with a straw.

Tae-eul sipped water and swallowed it with some difficulty past the sobs building in her chest and throat. She held off as long as she could, but they came out anyway.

When she woke up this morning, she had cried with relief. She had been so afraid, so sure that she was about to be told she was no longer-- but then she felt the attachments on her belly and saw the fetal monitor and-- she cried with relief.

Right now, she was crying from residual terror. She had been a detective. She knew what this was. Only, she had known and seen it happen to others. In colleagues, in witnesses, in suspects.

Now she knew what it was like. And her detective’s brain tried to feed her with facts to ease her anguish. She focused her eyes on the fetal monitor. Her baby was fine. She was fine. She couldn’t hear but she was fine. She was in the hospital. She cracked her collarbone. But she was fine. The car hadn’t hurt her. Hadn’t hurt them.

Gon was real, his arms around her, his hand stroking her hair soothingly, and his breath against her ear.

The sick feeling in her stomach receded. Her heart slowed down. She clung to Gon’s arm and let herself fall back against him, on the familiar shelter of his shoulder.

She pressed her lips together to close her mouth and stop crying. There was no need to carry on like this. She looked at Gon, drank him in with her eyes, and let that gaze and that nose and those lips and that jawline blot out the last vestiges of that car from behind her eyelids.

But it frustrated her that she couldn’t hear his voice. She could feel his chest rumbling softly and his lips moving against her forehead but she heard nothing.

He brought his face close to hers, gently tilting her chin so she could see him. She focused on his lips as they moved. “You’re all right. I’m here. Are you all right?”

She nodded and shook her head. “Everything hurts.”

Gon’s mouth curved down. “I’m sorry. Your medication should take effect soon. Noona gave you another dose some time ago. You’ll be fine.”

She nodded, raising her right hand to cradle his neck. When he spoke again, she felt it against her palm. “Do you want to tell me about it? What woke you up? Was it the accident?”

She nodded again. “Just… I saw it all over again. And everything I heard then. I wish I could hear something else to push it out of my head.”

Gon pulled some tissues from the box on her bedside table and gently dabbed at her cheeks, careful not to make contact with her eyes.

He said, “I could sing to you. Maybe only feeling the vibrations on my throat would make it sound better.”

She caught all that from reading his lips and it made her smile. “Go on.”

And Gon sang. An English song he’d heard her alternately sing and hum. It was like a lullaby. Soft, comforting, the notes rising and falling in smooth harmony. She could hear the song in her head, and her mind added the tune to Gon’s voice vibrating against her palm, drowning out that awful screech of metal.

“Moon river,

wider than a mile,

I’m crossing you in style some day.”

Her stomach chose that moment to grumble.

Gon stopped singing and looked at her. “I know I can’t sing as well as you, but that was rude.”

Tae-eul laughed.

“Come on. Let’s get you fed. You’ve had nothing but liquid nutrition all day.”

As if listening for this, another court maid came in and laid a tray on the bed. Then she placed and uncovered a black and gold ceramic dosirak on top of it. Tae-eul smelled kimchi and kalbi and her mouth watered.

Gon picked up the tray and placed it over her lap. She opened her mouth and he chuckled, taking a little bit of everything into a spoonful and bringing it to her mouth.

“Good?”

“Really good. Did I lose my phone?”

Gon nodded. “It was on the seat behind Jangmi. Why?”

“Give me your phone.”

She didn’t even have to navigate much. The file she wanted was on the homescreen. She played it at maximum volume. Nothing.

She sighed.

“You remember how it sounds, though, right?” Gon asked.

Oh, she did. But she wanted to hear it, not remember it.

She wanted that heartbeat to assure her, distract her, make her feel safe and happy again. And Gon’s voice. She needed his voice, too.

They both ate the dosirak without talking much, both of them retreating inside their own heads, and then Gon helped her wash her face-- with wipes-- and brush her teeth-- with a basin.

Maybe her pregnancy-safe painkillers still had narcotic side-effects, or maybe she was just tired out from everything. She drowsily played with Gon’s hand in her lap.

She decided she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Gon. The driver.”

He looked at her, and his gaze was still the same whenever he looked at her, but she saw the fury there, the hard and unforgiving glint.

“Tell me about the driver.”

He took his hand from hers, navigated his phone, and gave it to her with the document open.

She scrolled past Yeong’s notes on her condition, on Jangmi’s and In-yeong’s, her heart squeezing at their injuries, and then there he was. His driver’s license. Kim Ae-go, 1977 08 29, Gijang-gun.

The report had been updated an hour ago with priors. Several counts of DUI and possession, the first one when he was 16. When he was 19, he had crashed his car into a house, killing a cat and her four kittens. The case was settled. When he was 24, he had hit a 15-year-old kid on a bike and the kid was paralyzed from the waist down, but the case was settled. Five years later, he was tried for vehicular manslaughter-- a 17-year-old girl and her 10-year-old sister were killed-- but was acquitted.

“I can’t believe this.”

Gon looked at her, that glint in his eyes sharper now.

“This... this son of a bitch is a menace.”

Gon blinked.

“Well, now that he has endangered the bloody queen and the heir, he has no chance of being acquitted, has he? You can even behead him.” She slammed his phone down on the bed.

Gon stared at her, his eyes flickering between her and the vital signs monitor.

“What? I suppose we can’t have him beheaded just because I was the one attacked this time. He should have been punished long ago. Just… just get him imprisoned for life. No parole.”

In response, Gon’s hand came to cradle her uninjured cheek, and then he was kissing her, pressing and stroking her lips with his, taking her lower lip in his mouth, pulling on it and teasing it with his tongue.

Then he just lingered there with their lips brushing while they both breathed each other’s air. His eyes stared into hers, and the glint was still there, but it was a different kind.

He kissed her again, just a quick but still persistent kiss, and then withdrew.

He took his phone from where she’d slammed it on her bed covers-- now the silk from the palace-- and typed on it. He showed her the screen.

I wanted him beheaded. But I suppose life imprisonment is more appropriate so he can properly reflect and pay for his sins. He’s already under lock and key in the hospital. No chance of being acquitted, no. And yes, life with no parole.

Get better soon, my queen. I missed you. And I love you when you’re bloodthirsty.

She didn’t quite slam his phone down on the bed again, but it was still close. She felt ridiculous about it and glared at him.

He was laughing as he pushed the button on her bed.

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

Gon was shaken, however. He watched Tae-eul asleep in the glow of the lamps, her face golden and beautiful and angelic. Was this Tae-eul’s purpose in his world? Not just a queen but a trap for pests?

He opened his phone and tapped their favorite audio file almost automatically. The volume was still on the last setting by Tae-eul-- maximum-- and he didn’t lower it. He let it wash over him.

It sounded like how his heart thundered in his ears that morning-- just that morning-- when Yeong told him Tae-eul had been in a car crash.

It also sounded like a drum roll before an announcement. What would he announce? That the queen was taking a leave of absence? Could he send her--ask her--to stay in the republic and hope she was safe there?

He grimaced at the stupidity and futility of that thought.

His phone buzzed in his hand. It was Yeong.

“Pyeha. I’m coming to your room and I’ll stay with the queen.”

“Why?”

“He’s awake. He remembers everything. And the Minister of Finance is here.”

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

Ok-nam saw the sickle moon again in her dream. And just like before, it turned into a brilliant sun.

She didn't know why that thrilled her and assured her but it did.

She was just about to happily sink further in her dream and sleep when she felt herself being pulled to wakefulness.

It was the phone. She answered it and heard the king’s voice just as what happened that day hit her.

"How are you? Have they told you everything?"

"Pyeha. How is the queen?"

"Better. She's fine. They're both fine." Ok-nam sighed. "Lady Noh. Should one punish severely or well?"

Ok-nam didn’t even have to think about it. “Do both. Always.” She dipped her head with emphasis even though the king, her little boy, couldn’t see her. “This is how you make things right. This is how you inspire other people to also always make things right.”

“Hmm. You and your punishments that involve three generations.”

Ok-nam raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t really do that! You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. Thank you.”

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

The Minister of Finance was prostrate before the king.

This day was just full of surprises. Ho-pil had just arrived back at the hospital to make a report to the king when Captain Jo asked him to escort the minister to VIP 5. Ho-pil balked at that, disgusted that the minister and his asshole son were in the VIP wing right alongside the queen, but Yeong told him the entire VIP wing was currently occupied by the Royal Court.

True to the Captain’s word, VIP 5 was empty.

It seemed to be under renovation. Bare walls. With the minister prostrating on the bare floor.

“Pyeha, I beg your forgiveness. I am horrified at what has occurred. At what my son did. My entire family deserves to die.”

The minister was a spry seventy-four year old that Ho-pil had admired. But the man had aged since Ho-pil had last seen him. He felt almost sorry that the son’s sins were being visited on the father. Almost. Because the father had sins himself, didn’t he?

The king, standing tall with the minister at his feet, spoke in his quiet way. No fury this time, but it still made Ho-pil swear he’d never do anything to warrant the king speaking to him in that tone.

“I am not going to make accusations, Minister. But your son has been endangering people for more than two decades. He has even killed two girls. He was acquitted. With his priors, the acquittal seems impossible until one looks at the family he belongs to.

“What do you hope to obtain?”

“Our lives. We deserve to die but please let my family live, Pyeha. I will accept all other punishments I deserve.”

The king replied without pause. “So be it. You are henceforth stripped of your title and ministership. You and your wife are banished from Corea. Your son will be tried and imprisoned the maximum sentence. As I’m the sovereign justice, and this time the case is right before my eyes and I hope I’m no longer an inadequate teenaged monarch, I can assure you your son will die in incarceration. Is that to your satisfaction?”

The minister lowered his head further on the floor. “Pyeha-- my parents-- they’re the ones who coddled the boy. I humbly suggest the punishment extend to them.”

“Very well. I trust your word. They will join you in exile. None of you are allowed to set foot in the kingdom. Not even to die here.”

“Thank you for your mercy. Thank you for sparing my children and grandchildren, Pyeha.”

If the father impressed Ho-pil, the son disgusted him.

The king didn’t even bother to speak to the gibbering man. What a fucking cockroach, begging for forgiveness without acknowledging his actions. The king entered his room, looked at him, and just seemed to tune him out when he began talking.

And when Ho-pil told the king that the cockroach had thrashed the server who had confiscated his car keys, Ho-pil saw the king’s hand clench at his side.

Ho-pil was sure that if the Four Tiger Sword had been at the king’s hip in its scabbard, he would have slit the man’s throat.

But aside from that small movement anyone untrained would have missed, the king didn’t even flinch as they left the room.

“Add that to his charges. And place the server in protective custody. I think Captain Jo already made contact with the family of the girls and they’re under our protection as well. Cut off all communication channels of the Kim family until and after the four senior Kims are exiled.”

“Ye, Pyeha.” His investigation had told him as much. The old Kim patriarch had a long reach without having to step outside his villa. It was just unlucky for the old man he was now standing toe to toe with the king.

“Sub-captain Seok, please inform Secretary Mo that if there are other cases like this that have escaped my notice, I want them all at my desk by Friday next.”

Ho-pil stood tall and took immense pride in saying, “Ye, Pyeha.”

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

The guards at the door of VIP 7 were instead standing near VIP 6. Gon heard the din of raised voices as he stepped past them. The guards had stepped away so they wouldn’t hear. What on earth--

As he stopped at the door, he heard Tae-eul’s voice clearly, and it stunned him because for a moment, he thought she was talking to him.

“And do you think the republic has force fields that prevent a car crash? I could have a car accident there, too.”

Then Yeong spoke. “What if you had died? What if the baby--”

“Don’t think that. I didn’t die. I didn’t lose--”

“Are you going to look at death every day? I thought it was over.”

“Why do you always make me talk in cliches? We do look at death every day. Anything can happen to anyone at any time.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t see it. You were used today to finally catch that man. You saw his records. Once he slammed into YOUR car, there was no hope for him. His entire family’s power gone just like that because he happened to crash into the queen this time. That was unnecessary. That was senseless. The king would have caught on to him sooner or later. But look what happened. And because you and I both know you’ve been put here on purpose, aren’t you a little suspicious? Aren’t you even a little afraid?”

“Of course I’m afraid. I’m terrified. But there are things you fight and stay for even when you’re afraid. You know that.”

Gon had felt his stomach drop at Yeong’s words, and then Tae-eul’s just knocked the wind out of him. Yeong didn’t answer, so Gon opened the door. He found them on opposite ends of the room, Tae-eul in bed and Yeong standing at the window.

Both of them looked impassive, although Tae-eul’s visible cheek was flushed.

“Did I interrupt something?”

Yeong said, “No.” Tae-eul just sighed.

Gon knew that no matter how tenacious she was, what Yeong said had bothered her. Of course, it would.

To his surprise, Yeong spoke up.

"I'm worried about you. Both of you. If something happens to either of you, I'm the one who'll be left with the pieces. I’m meant to protect you. Why else do I remember everything? But how can I protect you from something like this? I’m powerless and useless.”

Gon took a deep breath and spoke of the realization that had come to him between his call to Lady Noh and his audience with the ex-minister. “Something or someone else will prove powerful and useful then, Yeong-ah.”

Yeong scowled at him.

“It’s a balance. How do you think I felt this morning? I was king but what good was that when Tae-eul was in a car crash? But that car proved powerful and useful. Jangmi’s defensive driving ended up powerless and useless but that car protected them, didn’t it?”

Yeong turned his head to the side, his gesture of thinking over what Gon said.

“I was thinking like you earlier. It crossed my mind that maybe I could ask her to stay in the republic. But like she told you, that didn’t make sense. And when I found out about that man’s family, everything made sense. You said I could have caught on to him sooner or later-- but can you think of any other circumstance where he would have been trapped so cleanly without escape?”

Yeong scowled and sighed. Tae-eul said, “I think that’s the longest he explained something without a math reference, don’t you?”

Yeong sighed again, but this one sounded amused, and the look he gave Tae-eul was full of exasperation. Something Gon was familiar with because it had been directed at him for dec--

Gon snapped his head to Tae-eul. “You heard me?”

Tae-eul grinned and tapped her right ear. “Loud and clear. Ever since Yeong came in and woke me up.”

“I didn’t wake you up. You were already awake.”

“What about your left ear?”

“Still fuzzy. I think because it got the brunt from all the airbags and the… the crash.”

“It will come back. I’m glad you can hear again.”

“Me, too. Give me your phone.”

Gon smiled, moving eagerly toward her, and Yeong did the same, toward the door. “I’ll see myself out. I don’t like being in the room when you two start smiling like that.”

Gon clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. Live for today.”

Yeong just gave him a side-eye. “Tell yourself that, too.”

Gon nodded. “I do. Everyday.”

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

Tae-eul watched the two best friends exchange words--too soft for her to hear-- before Yeong made it out the door. When she was out of here, she was going to send Yeong and Seung-ah to Jeju or Pyeongchang so he could decompress.

Maybe they could all go as a treat to the entire guard while Jangmi and In-yeong were recovering.

Gon gave her his phone, kissed her, and then retreated to the en suite. She heard him at the sink, brushing his teeth, the clink of the water glass against the counter, and then the gentle thump and soft buzz of his luggage as he opened zips and probably got his pajamas.

There was the faint noise of the shower door sliding on its track, once, twice, and then the muffled cascade of the shower running.

She listened to every little noise. She thought she even heard the soft hum of his electric razor. Even the soft slap of his hands as he applied aftershave. It made her smile.

And then she heard the shift of the sound of his footsteps from tile to carpet, and when she opened her eyes, he was watching her from the side of the bed.

“I thought you’d have it in full volume but I came out to absolute quiet.”

Tae-eul snorted. “You don’t know absolute quiet. And I was waiting for you.”

He smiled and helped her move on the semi-double bed to make space for him. It might be a VIP room but the bed still couldn’t be too big to hinder patient treatment. She made sure the space was big enough for Gon to lie on his back rather than on his side all night.

He laid down on his side, however, with his arm over her waist and under her sling, kissing her temple and her cheek.

She squeezed his arm with her left and then she tapped play on their favorite audio file.

Tae-eul closed her eyes and listened to it. Then she remembered Gon dancing to this and giggled. She turned the volume loud and then softer, and the little bean’s heartbeat remained steady and strong.

This was what she’d wanted to hear all day, what she’d known she would hear soon when she’d heard the soft click of the door after Yeong had entered and it latched closed.

So when Yeong had seen she was awake and started talking about his fears, she had been calm and peaceful, with her faith a solid presence in her mind and heart, all because she had known she was about to hear this heartbeat again.

She felt Gon’s thumb swipe at her cheek. “Do you hear any difference?”

She didn’t open her eyes but she tilted her head a little. Gon’s voice was another thing. “Hmm?”

“This is from today.”

“What?”

“This is the little bean at fifteen weeks, not at twelve weeks.”

Tae-eul smiled and laughed a little. “Really? I don’t hear any difference, do you?”

“No. It’s like nothing happened.”

Tae-eul chuckled. “Like nothing happened.”

___________________________________________

Question/reader reaction to A dark day for Corea: WHY DID I DO THIS?! WHYYY!

Answer: You know that sweet pregnancy trope where they listen to the baby's heartbeat? I wanted it in a flashback in a currently bleak scene.

And this is what came to me. I did my research and I kept finding things to support what I wanted to do, like the new Mercedes Benz S-class 2021 (to be released in September), the loss of hearing from airbags, and so many other bits. I loved it.

I did drop Corea News ahead so I’d be committed to seeing this through.

I almost paid for subscription to a medical procedures journal, but I did find specific answers for free. The key is to ask specific questions lol.

If I got anything wrong, forgive me. I could have asked medical people around me, but I’m shy and writing is solitary.

FACT: Rhesus negative blood is RARE in Asia. There was a sad news item in Korea where a man died because he needed platelets and couldn’t find enough donors. He had B-negative blood.

All right, let me know what you think. Please drop a line, thank you! :)

#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #the king and queen #the king: eternal monarch #TKEM fan fiction #CoreaStories

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yugyummygot7reactions · 4 years

Text

Punishment

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jinyoung x you x Jaebeom

Word Count: 2760

This is a birthday fic for my bestie!! @ksmutaddict . This was technically written last year for her birthday, but I’m lame af and write all my fics on actual paper first and I lost it...found it during my move...and then forgot about it. She asked for it to be uploaded for her birthday and I’m only 1 day late this time. Happy birthday boo! Hope you like the fic and the edits.

The night had been an abnormally lazy one for you and your two favorite boys. You spent most of the evening entangled in each other’s limbs while relaxing in front of some comedy show you had all seen so many times you could recite it. It was only as you were beginning to doze off in the arms of your favorite of the two men that it was decided for you that it was time to head to bed. Your legs were wrapped around Jinyoung’s unfairly small waist, and your arms were snugly wrapped around his neck as he carried you through the hallway, which felt longer than usual. This was all thanks to Jaebeom, who was following close by, his eyes letting you know, that you had greatly disappointed them by falling asleep so early. You unfortunately already knew this. They explicitly told you earlier that evening that you had been a bit too disobedient lately, and even before that conversation, you had an inkling that your bratty behavior was pushing the very lenient limits the men had set for you. Frequently during the night’s activities, Jinyoung had sent you those looks, silently telling you to take it back a notch, and tried to get you to sit in his lap where he could hold you still and keep you a bit more subdued, but you made it a point to barely be within his arms’ reach, teasing him and Jaebeom, making him slightly cross in the process. When Jaebeom pulled you aside in the kitchen while brewing another pot of tea, you realized as the bedroom door was approaching and the look in Jaebeom’s eyes grew dark, that you should have taken the last chance he gave you. “Last chance, Kitten. Behave, or you will regret it later,” he had snarled with a hand around your throat. But, of course, you didn’t listen and kept on toying with their patience and the edge of your skirt. You liked testing them. It was always fun to see exactly how far they were willing to bend for you and each time you got them to go a little bit farther. Tonight seemed different though. Through the night, you noticed how their jaws tensed further and further each time you got mouthy with witty remarks or brushed your hand against any erogenous zones to tease them. In hindsight, you should’ve stopped, but that’s the thing about hindsight, it’s never there when you actually need it, and only when you saw that look on Jaebeom’s face as you headed to the bedroom did it hit you that you were in trouble. Big trouble. Jinyoung immediately threw you onto the bed as you entered the room. The man who just gently carried you here flipped switches in a heartbeat from sweet Daddy to aggressive Sir. “How hard is it just to be our good little girl? Huh?” The panic set in, as if the warnings you had accumulated over the evening were dumped on you all at once. “I’m sorry-” you began, pouting, but Jaebeom interrupted you. “Save it.” He was cold. Colder than usual. You turned your eyes to look at him, but his glare made your fear more than normal, and you chose to stare at the floor instead of into his piercing eyes. Jinyoung picked you up with his stupidly strong arms, and finally, after a whole night of constant disobedience, you knew better than to fight him. His cold and clearly upset face made you want to apologize again, but you knew from experience he probably wouldn’t have it. “What happened that made you sorry now, when clearly, you haven’t been sorry all evening,” was all he said as he pulled you up. I’m sure he felt your breath hiccup as Jaebeom passed through the door, at least he wasn’t surprised to find you trying to cover your slightly swollen eyes when he put you down. He wasted no time comforting you and went straight to undressing you from the waist down. You could hear Jaebeom simultaneously rummaging in the closet for something you were sure was not for your pleasure. When your skirt and leggings were tossed onto the floor roughly and you were left in your shirt and underwear only, the first audible sob escaped you, and Jaebeom reprimanded you immediately. “You brought this upon yourself, so stop sniffling. You will have plenty of time to cry about this once we’re done. Now, come here!” His words didn’t help, but you rubbed your eyes as you moved off of the bed and walked towards him. Jinyoung noticed the cane in his hand long before you did. “Warm her up first,” Jinyoung insisted gently, his loving side always sneaking through a bit, even during punishments. Out of the two, he was the one who disliked punishing you most. Jaebeom didn’t find it ideal either, but was more concerned with your misbehavior than your comfort during a punishment. Jinyoung wanted the punishments to be fun for the both of you, while Jaebeom wanted his point to get through regardless of the cost. Jaebeom already had his hand in a firm grip around your upper arm, but he let go as Jinyoung took you by your hips and dragged you towards him. He moved backwards to sit on the bed, pulled you over his knee, and tugged your panties upwards, wedging them between your cheeks, stripping you of whatever minimal protection they would have provided from what was coming next. “Please,” was all you dared to whisper before Jinyoung landed the first hit, pressing tears further up in your eyes. Jaebeom had taken a seat in the white leather chair across from the bed, where he had the best view of Jinyoung slowly heating up your cheeks. The slow speed was excruciating. Each heavy blow got to sting, burn, and then pulse in pain before the next one landed. It was agonizing to lie there, completely still, as every moment was filled by humiliation under Jaebeom’s watchful eye, only broken by the very timed out sting of Jinyoung’s rough palm. After a few hits, Jaebeom spoke up against his procrastination. “Jinyoung…” he said with a smirk on his face. He knew Jinyoung didn’t like these moments, so he repeated his words from earlier, “Let’s get this over with.” Jinyoung sighed and put his free hand firmly around your waist, pulling you closer to keep you still, and then hit after hit, he hit your ass with increased speed and force. You hid your face by pressing it deeply into the covers. It wasn’t enough to stifle your sobs though, and you were sure they both heard, even though Jinyoung remained relentless. He had put on that tough shell Jaebeom always wore during punishments, the shell that made it possible for him to ignore your cries and carry on with his heavy hand. Finally, Jinyoung thought you had endured enough of his hand to be ready for the cane, and he helped you stand. You barely got to gain your balance before you heard Jaebeom sigh deeply with what could have been regret or irritation, and then grab your arm again. He pulled you to stand by his left side, bent over, as he held you firmly between his hand and hip, your already bruised ass sticking out for his right hand to terrorize. “It will be over soon,” was all the warning and comfort he gave you, before letting the cane strike down, leaving agonizing, slanted, red lines on your now red, glowing skin. You could almost hear a smirk in his voice as he continued to try to talk you through it. You grabbed on to his pants to keep yourself balanced, even though his left hand held you more securely in place that you thought. His pace was quick, and you gasped, yelped, and sobbed your way through your least favorite kind of spanking. You could tell Jinyoung was still sitting on the bed, now viewing Jaebeom tear up your ass with the cane, and when you managed to open your eyes for long enough to look at him through your tears, it was clear to you he was enjoying the show more than it upset him to see you cry. The growing bulge in his pants was evidence of his change in moods. Finally, Jaebeom slowed down the pace and between the last two strikes, he paused and scolded you quickly. “You foolish little girl.” He whacked you one final time and once your shocked sob had quieted down to your quiet panting, he helped you stand up straight. “To the bed,” he ordered and you followed quickly and quietly. You quickly stripped completely and crawled under the silk sheets Jinyoung had pulled back for you, while Jaebeom put away the torturous instrument. For a while, you laid there sniffling, as they undressed and got ready for bed. Jinyoung crawled in on the right side of you, wearing nothing but his bulged out boxers, a bit before Jaebeom joined in behind you, wearing those striped pajama bottoms that made him seem a million years older than he really was… in a cute and comforting way. He wrapped his hands around you from the back and nuzzled comfortingly into your neck. He had finally dropped that harsh exterior and now treated your tired body and mind gently. Jaebeom kissed your shoulder where the tattoo was slightly raised and whispered gently against your skin “Good girl. You took it so well.” Jinyoung moved closer too and scooped you out of Jaebeom’s arms to place you more directly under him, asserting that he knew you favored him for cuddling. “Come here, my sweet nuna,” he encouraged you when you whimpered a bit. Jaebeom propped his head up on his hand to enjoy the show he knew was about to unfold. Jinyoung moved one of your legs to the other side of him, spreading you open for him to admire. He sat back up on his knees and shuffled out of his briefs, letting his erect cock stand free, but not for long before he buried himself in you, just barely taking the time to make sure you were wet enough to take him. He knew you loved the feeling of the stretch and he embraced that. Jinyoung was not a patient man in bed and the quick pace he settled on immediately, was evidence of that. In the context of sex, he and Jaebeom were as different as they were when punishing you. In bed, Jaebeom would take his time, be gentle and comforting, but Jinyoung let nothing stand between him and pleasure. His big, bulging cock thrust into you, and the movement pushed and dragged you ever so slightly across the sheets, putting pressure on your very sore backside. You gasped and looked up at Jinyoung’s deep chocolate eyes. “Jinyoung,” you mewled, as he grabbed your wrists and held them down on either side of your head. Jaebeom put a hand on your cheek, making you look at him. “You know your safe word, love?” he checked in, and you nodded while sniffling again. “Nora.” “Good,” he praised and moved his hand to your chest. “Then keep still and let Jinyoung fuck you the way he wants while I think about what I want.” With that, Jaebeom’s patience left you to Jinyoung’s forces. He grunted deeply and fucked you even harder. “Jinyoung, it hurts,” you pleaded. Jaebeom was quick to scold you. “Keep quiet. You know you can stop this if it is truly too much, but unless that is the case, know your place and keep quiet! If you don’t I will make it hurt worse.” Your breath wavered as Jinyoung let go of the wrist closest to Jaebeom in order to slap and then squeeze your breast. His breath was heaving and he was grunting deeply, as he kept on fucking you in a manner that could only be described as animalistic. Jaebeom laid next to you, watching Jinyoung fuck you senseless, until he finally decided he wanted in. He pulled down his trousers and motioned to Jinyoung, who backed off for a bit, allowing him to pull you back into his embrace. From behind, he dipped his cock - slightly longer and leaner than Jinyoung’s - into your dripping heat, but he only remained for a few pumps, until he was covered in your natural lubrication. He used his tip to drag your juices along your asshole, lubing you up so he could slide in slowly. Jaebeom’s patience was something you were always fond of, as a beautiful contrast to Jinyoung’s impatience, but especially when he took you anally, you appreciated his slow pace. you winced and gasped as he inched himself in. Jinyoung had been admiring Jaebeom and you and said in response to your strained mewling, “God, you’re sexy when you whimper.” Jaebeom was finally as deep as he could go and he readjusted himself under you, before inviting Jinyoung back in. “Then come, make her whimper some more.” Jinyoung’s hungry smile said “your pleasure” as he took back his position between your legs. He pushed himself back in without much warning, making you cry out from the excruciating pleasure stemming from your core. Jaebeom joined your outburst, as Jinyoung’s cock filled you up and made you clench even tighter around him. “Fuck!” Jinyoung groaned and began thrusting again, vigorously enough to move you back and forth on Jaebeom’s cock as well. “Ji-Jinyoung!” you stuttered and moaned, letting your head fall back onto Jaebeom’s shoulder. “Relax, baby,” Jaebeom coaxed, as Jinyoung inched closer to his climax, picking up speed and depth as he went on. Jinyoung had his forehead on your chest by now, sending a plethora of sensations through you. His breath was hot and damp. Your cunt, already fully stimulated, got part of the endorphin rush as Jaebeom’s fingers tangled in your hair and grabbed a handful of your soft flesh by your breast. With that, and their gorgeous cocks filling you, you inched closer to your climax as well. Jaebeom held you firmly in place and you screamed out whenever Jinyoung’s pelvis granted you the accidental pleasure of rubbing by your clit. That with the snug fit of his thick cock in your narrowed, dripping hole and the occasional crash and brush of his crotch hitting yours had you so close. Jaebeom felt that you were close and moved his hand from your breast to your neck to choke you to your climax, just the way you liked it. You felt like you fell over the edge of your orgasm when Jinyoung strictly ordered you to come, but Jaebeom’s firm grasp on your upper body kept you safe as you pulsed through your climax. Jinyoung grunted and slowed down, thrusting harshly a few times as he came forcefully between your clenching walls. You came back down from your high as Jinyoung pulled away. Jaebeom was kissing your shoulder and neck and slowly moved you down onto your side so he could move more easily. You laid tiredly and completely relaxed as he slowly moved against you. Even though his pace was lazy, all the previous activities of the night had him close to finishing already. The teasing, the spanking, the vigorous fucking, all brought to this moment of slow, steady, tired, and loving lovemaking, where Jaebeom stroked your shoulder with his lips and grasped one of your breasts in his firm hand as he finished himself inside you. Still kissing and nuzzling, he pulled away from you, letting Jinyoung pick you up to clean you up. He carried you into the bathroom where he had drawn a warm bath for the three of you while Jaebeom was finishing up with you in the bed, and he lowered you into the water laced with lemon essential oil and rose petals. Jaebeom slipped in behind you and Jinyoung sat by your legs. He covered a loofah in a lovely scented shower gel and rubbed it over your skin, making it soft and slippery, so his strong fingers could easily massage your every muscle. Jaebeom also took it upon himself to help relax the muscles he had helped to rough up earlier in the night. “Thank you,” you said as their hands worked magic, earning you a broad smile from Jinyoung and a low and lax humming from Jaebeom. “See?” He said, happy to know your manners had returned. “There’s our good babygirl.”

#jjp #jj project #got7 #jinyoung #park jinyoung #jyp #jaebum #jaebeom #got7 smut #jinyoung smut #jaebeom smut #jaebum smut #kpop smut #ksmutaddict #happy birthday bitch #i'm only a year late #not too bad for my flaky ass #yugyummygot7reactions

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out-of-jams · 5 years

Text

Airplane Mode || Track 05: Moving On | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites.

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Language.

Words written like this are spoken in Korean.

Eunjae glared at the screen displaying boarding times like it was responsible for all of her life problems. Though in this instance, it kind of was.

With water dripping down her hand from the sweating plastic cup filled with coffee she held, Eunjae took a deep breath to stop herself from getting arrested by security for assaulting airport property. She’d already gotten lost multiple times in the obnoxiously large airport. And then once she finally found her gate to check in, the staff working at the desk politely informed her that the flight to Seoul was completely full. Therefore she would need to check her carry-on suitcase in with the rest of her bags because there wouldn't "be enough room in the overhead compartment."

Eunjae had been so tired up to that point, from the emotional farewell with her best friend to the long lines and early hours of the morning. She’d never been an early riser. In fact, the only way to even get her out of bed before eleven was if you bribed her with caffeine. And seeing as how her flight was supposed to leave at 6:54 am, she’d been wandering around half-awake like a zombie. After Eunjae'd gotten turned around in the airport for the third time, she finally caved and bought a ridiculously expensive iced coffee. Even though the side effects of First Touch turned the normally delicious drink into trash.

Taking another sip out of her rapidly draining cup, Eunjae tried not to grimace at the taste. If she was being completely honest, it tasted like she licked the walls of a dirty alleyway. But caffeine was caffeine and she would at least try to drink it while she could still stomach food. With a sigh, Eunjae slipped her vibrating phone out of the back pocket of her pants to read over the latest text from Hoseok. She’d sent a message off to him once she passed through security check to let him know that she would be on her way soon.

Well, she would have been.

Green straw pressed between her lips, Eunjae’s freshly manicured fingers flew across the keyboard. She wasn’t one to get her nails done routinely, since it would just get ruined when she worked on a new clothing piece. But Miles had forced her into getting a mani-pedi with him. Something about not letting her meet Bangtan with busted nails or whatever, but he’d volunteered to pay so she’d acquiesced.

A ding alerted her to a new text and she sent off a reply as she reluctantly trudged her way back to her gate.

Eunjae’s stupid flight had gotten delayed by almost six hours because of some storm raging in the middle of the ocean. She didn’t know if she was more angry at the fact that she now had so much time to fill, or that she could have still been asleep.

What the hell am I supposed to do for that long? She thought angrily as she slipped her phone back in her pocket. Hiding her glare behind the protective lenses of her sunglasses, she grumbled to herself.

Six hours and almost a season of Parks and Rec later, the call for her flight to start boarding came over the loudspeaker. WIth a final glance at the blank notification screen of her phone, Eunjae gathered her red mini backpack and boarded the plane. Hoseok had yet to respond to her last message, so she just assumed that he was super busy with his schedule for the day.

Settling into her roomy seat on the giant plane, Eunjae silently thanked Big Hit for getting her a first class ticket on a non-stop flight. Her seat was separated from the one next to her by a wall that rose over the top of her head. There was a small table right underneath the movie screen in front of her and she dropped her backpack on it before reclining in her chair.

As the flight attendant at the front of the plane began to read off safety instructions, Eunjae leaned her head back against the headrest and hoped that she’d at least be able to get some sleep.

With dark red nails tapping impatiently on the countertop of the help desk, Eunjae watched through tired eyes as the staff member manning it clicked away at her computer. The rest of the baggage claim was completely devoid of people and the notes of some slow song playing over the loudspeaker echoed hauntingly.

Eyes hooded with exhaustion, Eunjae spared a quick glance out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall in baggage claim. It was too dark to see anything properly so her hunched over reflection greeted her through the glass. With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair and straightened the hem of her cut-off black hoodie. The material fell right underneath her bellybutton and the top of her black joggers prevented any chance of seeing skin. Eunjae toed the tile floor with the tip of her white, platform Puma sneakers and sighed.

The bad luck of the day (days?) was apparently never ending. After falling into a weird, fever like sleep on the plane where she woke up confusedly every hour, Eunjae was greeted after landing in Incheon International Airport by the news of the airline losing her bags. It was almost three in the morning and she couldn’t even call Sejin to let him know the issue since her American phone didn’t operate in South Korea. The man was probably wondering where the hell she was.

“Ah,” the voice of the female staff member drew Eunjae’s attention. The middle aged woman looked up from her computer with an apologetic smile. “Your bags are currently in Beijing.”

Eunjae could only respond with a slow blink as her tired brain tried to process the information. She’d been lucky that the woman at the counter could speak English. She didn’t even want to imagine how the conversation would go with a round of charades.

“Beijing?” She parroted back stupidly. Her voice was still a little groggy from her attempt at sleep.

“Yes.” The woman bobbed her head, her brunette hair brushing her shoulders with the motion. “We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

Eunjae just nodded slowly. “When can they get here?”

“In about three days or so. If you write down the address of where you’re staying, we could have them send your belongings straight to you.”

Eunjae filled out the slip of paper robotically, pen jotting down her new address quickly. Luckily she’d memorized it from the amount of times she’d had to write it down on boxes to ship out. None of those boxes, unfortunately, carried any of her clothes. Eunjae hadn’t sent any out until two days ago. The rest of her clothing was in the bags lost somewhere in Beijing.

She silently cursed her past self for being so stupid. But she’d needed clothes to wear back at home, damnit!

The rest of the interaction passed by in a blur and Eunjae walked out of baggage claim with only her mini backpack and a copy of the form she filled out. Luckily, the signs in the airport were labeled in both Engilsh and Korean, so she had no trouble finding her way out.

As she went through the empty queue at immigration and rode the escalator down to the main floor and entrance, Eunjae gently slapped her cheeks to wake herself up. She’d been on the receiving end of one too many stares on the journey and couldn’t wait for the bruises to heal. Stepping off at the ground floor, Eunjae immediately spotted Sejin pacing back and forth near the escalators. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his thick brown coat and a white face mask was pulled down to his chin. Eunjae shifted her backpack higher on her shoulder and cleared her throat.

“Hey.” She didn’t need to raise her voice since the airport was empty anyway.

Sejin’s head snapped up from where he’d been staring intently at his shoes, and a look of relief twisted his features. Stepping closer, his tense shoulders relaxed. “You’re here. I was starting to worry.”

“Yeah, sorry about the wait.” A large yawn interrupted Eunjae mid sentence and she covered her mouth with a sweater paw. “They lost my bags.”

“Ah.” Sejin frowned. “How long until they ship them to you?”

Eunjae waved the flimsy paper in her hands, the edges fluttering with the movement. “Three days. So please excuse my homeless-chic appearance until then. What I’m wearing is all I have.”

Sejin shook his head and gestured for her to follow him to the door. “We’d initially planned for you to meet Bang PD-nim and the rest of the members tomorrow morning--well now this morning. But we can arrange for someone to take you shopping first.”

The automatic doors swished open and Eunjae frowned at the cold wind that bit across her cheeks. Hands shoving into the pouch of her hoodie, she looked around the empty passenger pick-up area. The bright lights from inside the airport’s floor-to-ceiling windows gave them plenty of light to see by as she followed the man down the wide pathway.

“I don’t really have a lot of money to spend on clothes.” Eunjae’s words puffed a white cloud into the winter air. Unfortunately for her, it was just as cold in Korea as it was in New York. She could already feel her cheeks starting to freeze.

Sejin sent her a weird look as they crossed the empty street towards an even more deserted part of the pick-up zone. Eunjae could just barely make out a parked van through the darkness. “You wouldn’t be paying.”

Eunjae snorted in amusement through her slowly reddening nose and joked, “less than an hour here and you’re already planning a robbery on some poor clothing store. Shaking my head, Sejin. You’re a bad influence.”

The lack of sleep was beginning to get to her.

Rolling his eyes in good humor, Sejin gave a fake, put-upon sigh. “You’re going to fit in with the boys great.”

She simply raised an eyebrow at him and watched as he slid a keyring out of the pocket of his jeans. The van was close and Eunjae picked up her pace a little at the thought of gaining solace from the freezing wind. Her short legs had to work almost double time to keep up with tall Sejin.

“Like I said before,” he began, clicking a button on the keyring to unlock the vehicle; its lights flashed twice. “Big Hit will cover all of your expenses while you're here. That includes anything and everything you might need.”

Eunjae grimaced. She really didn’t like the thought of being dependant on someone for so long. Even if that someone was a millionaire like Bang PD. “I don’t want to just be given things without working for it. That doesn't sit right with me.”

The tall man paused in his steps, causing her to stop as well. Staring down at her seriously, he held the keys in his hand tighter. “You’ve just moved out here to a completely different country; you’ve given up a lot and we recognize that. So let us at least try and make up for it.”

All Eunjae could do was blink at his statement. Sejin patted her shoulder twice and stepped off again leaving Eunjae with no choice but to follow in silence. They were at the van now and she stepped up next to Sejin as he slid the backdoor open for her. Why he didn’t want her to sit in the passenger seat, she had no idea. But the question answered itself as soon she slid inside and the door closed behind her.

Leaning against the opposite door of the row’s seats sat Jung Hoseok. The hood of his chalk grey coat was pulled up over his dark, wavy hair and a small gold chain hid beneath his neckline. With the silver zipper pulled halfway down his chest, the soft cotton of his charcoal covered shirt stretched across his chest. Hoseok had on his own pair of black joggers and Eunjae silently wondered if always accidently matching clothes was a soulmate thing, or if they just had the same taste in fashion.

The second the door closed, Hoseok pulled down the black face mask covering the bottom half of his face and gave her a smile so big that the tiny dimples on his cherub cheeks popped into existence. His dark eyes turned into adorable half moons as he spread his arms wide open with flapping hands. “You’re here!”

Eunjae just about died on the spot. From the scent of his masculine cologne in the air, to the sudden warmth of escaping the biting wind, to his cute accented voice. Her tired brain was beginning to short circuit from all of the input.

Returning his smile with one of her own, she responded, “I’m here.”

As she slid the backpack from her shoulders, Hoseok tilted his head to the side in confusion and sent a glance back towards the still empty trunk of the van. Turning back to her, he waved a hand at the backpack between her feet.

“No more?” His brows pinched together in bewilderment.

The driver side door opened then, and Sejin slipped inside and started the van quickly, likely wanting to warm up just as much as she did. The car rumbled to life and the vents perched on the ceiling of the vehicle flooded the space with lukewarm air.

Shaking her head at Hoseok’s question, Eunjae answered him as the automatic door lights shut off and plunged them all in darkness. A soft glow from the center console at the front cast his face in shadow as Sejin finally pulled away from the curb. “My bags are somewhere in Beijing right now.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened comically as he seemed to grasp the gist of what she was saying. He leaned closer and Eunjae had to almost physically stop herself from reaching out to touch him. Soulmate or not, they were still strangers and Eunjae wasn’t comfortable enough with him to invade his personal space. So no matter how much his body called out to hers, how much the blood in her veins sang out for him, she shoved the feeling of longing deep into the recesses of her mind.

“What? Why?”

Eunjae had never been so grateful for her ability to retain information that she crammed into her brain last minute as she easily translated Hoseok’s Korean. Miles had been giving her random pop quizzes at all times of the day to try and help. Even though he had no idea what he was saying and ended up pronouncing half of the words wrong anyway. Scrunching her nose in thought, Eunjae pulled up the virtual dictionary floating through her exhausted brain. She didn’t know a lot of Korean vocabulary and the rules of sentence structure confused the hell out of her. So she wasn’t confident in how coherent her response was.

“They lost them.”

Eunjae wasn’t sure if Hoseok’s reaction was because of what she said or the fact that she’d spoken it in his language. Heart shaped lips spreading into another smile, his long fingers came up to frame either side of his face. “Your Korean is good!”

“Ah, I don’t know a lot.” A pout formed unconsciously on her face as she shrugged non-committedly.

“Still.” Hoseok beamed. One of his hands moved as if he were going to touch her before he seemingly thought better of it and dropped it on the seat between them.

A few beats of silence overtook the car that hovered over the soft music playing from the speakers. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was the kind of silence that reared its head when two people didn’t know what else to say. Maybe it was because they were both tired, or perhaps it stemmed from the fact that they barely spoke each other’s language. But the invisible barrier between them appeared more solid without the ability to communicate via texted emoji.

“We still have a long drive ahead of us.” Sejin finally broke through the quiet from up front. “If the two of you want to get some rest, now would probably be a good time. Today’s schedule starts early.”

He repeated his suggestion in Korean so that Hoseok could understand and Eunjae felt her fatigued body scream out at the thought of another early morning. She instantly felt guilty, however, as she glanced over at Hoseok. Even in the lack of light she could see how worn out he was, even though he was trying his best to scrape up whatever energy he could find for her. The fact that he’d even chose to come pick her up when he could have been sleeping spoke about what kind of person he was.

Whatever exhaustion she was feeling after a day and a half didn’t even hold a candle to the years that he’d felt the same way. With a frown pulling at her lips, Eunjae slowly reached out to gently pat the hand lying on the seat between them. She tried to ignore the instantaneous reaction as the electrifying energy buzzing between their skin warmed her veins. Hoseok’s hand twitched under hers and Eunjae had to stop herself from curling her small fingers around his longer ones. It wasn’t in a romantic sense. Her body was just reacting to whatever science it was that drew soulmates together, so not all of her reactions were completely in her control.

“Sleep.”

Hoseok’s tired eyes peered at her through the dark as he sent her a grateful smile. He flipped the palm of his hand over to softly squeeze hers and Eunjae was almost surprised when the static the gesture sent through her wasn’t visible in the air between them.

“You too.”

As the van drove down the virtually empty highway, a strip of light from the streetlamps lining the road flashed through the tinted windows of the van. Hoseok’s eyes were already closed, his long eyelashes brushing against the apples of his cheeks. How he’d managed to fall asleep so fast, Eunjae didn’t know. But what she did know, was that his hand was still holding onto hers in the warmth of the voiceless, dark car.

The sound of a car door shutting forced Eunjae’s eyes open. It was either that, or the sudden rush of cold air brushing against her skin. When her eyes had fallen shut in the first place, she wasn’t sure. But as the overhead car lights flickered off, they drifted closed again. The comfortable heat pressing against her side threatened to drag her back into unconsciousness.

And it would have if the door to the backseat of the van hadn’t slid open. Eunjae groaned as the cold coaxed goosebumps from her covered flesh. The soft material her face was pressed into shifted as if sensing her annoyance. Stuck somewhere between the land of dreams and that of the conscious, Eunjae wasn’t sure if the warm breath that brushed the top of her head was real or not.

A light chuckle breached through the darkness of her closed eyelids. “Wake up you two. We’re here.”

The lights on the ceiling of the van were getting harder and harder to ignore. Slowly, the weight that she’d barely processed over her shoulders shifted as her pillow mumbled incoherently. The deep, sleep filled voice set off familiar bells in her head, and Eunjae peeled her eyes open with the speed of a sloth. It always took her at least twenty minutes after waking to fully fall into consciousness.

Her eyes blinked leisurely as her brain tried to process what was going on. The first thing she noticed was that she was confusedly on the other side of the car than the one she’d been sitting on. The next was that she’d somehow grown four legs, two of which were larger than hers. It could have taken her two minutes or two hours for her brain to process it, she wasn’t sure.

However, it wasn’t until she lifted her head from where it’d been comfortably pressed into Hoseok’s side that she finally came to the realization. Sometime, somehow, over the course of the drive her body had acted on its own accord and snuggled itself into his side. He had one arm thrown across her shoulders while his other hand sleepily rubbed through the wavy hair under his hood. Hoseok’s eyes were half lidded as his lips parted in a wide yawn. Both of their bodies, it seemed, had answered the other’s call while they were unconscious.

It be ‘ya own body. Eunjae thought half drunkenly, resisting the urge to ignore everything and go back to sleep. Turning her head to the side, she saw the light washed figure of Sejin standing at the open van door.

“You guys going to stay in there all night? Or are you going to come out?”

While she couldn’t make out his expression, Sejin sounded very amused. Eunjae knew enough Korean to be able to get the gist of what he’d said, or at least she hoped she did.

“Mmm. Yeah.” Hoseok grumbled, lifting the arm from around her shoulders to rub at his face. If he was at all phased by how he woke up, he didn’t show it. His voice was deeper than normal, vocal cords still coated with sleep.

Eunjae was still barely processing what was going on around her, but she was awake enough to slide across the seats and scoop up her bag. Sejin moved out of the way as she swung her legs out the door, pausing a moment to blink rapidly from the bright lights overhead. It appeared like they were in some underground parking garage. The frigid air pulled a small whimper from her throat as she hopped out. The garage wasn’t super huge and it looked like Sejin had pulled the van around to park in a darkened corner. By the way it was just pulled to the side and not in a parking space, Eunjae figured that this wasn’t his final destination.

At the sound of Hoseok’s shoes hitting the concrete behind her, Eunjae shuffled out of the way so that he wouldn’t fall over her as he got out. As he stretched his arms above his head, she quickly averted her eyes as the hem of both his coat and shirt raised to reveal a strip of golden skin.

God, what K-drama is this? Eunjae just barely resisted rolling her eyes at the universe. I think we’ve hit just about every cliche by now.

“I’ll show you to your apartment.” Sejin spoke, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty garage. Eunjae looked up at him and narrowed her eyes at the bags under his. The man looked completely and utterly drained. Like he was two blinks away from falling asleep standing up.

“Just tell me the code and how to get there, I’ll find it.” Stuffing her hands into her hoodie pouch, she rocked back and forth on her feet in an attempt at warming up. The winter air was slowly starting to shock her body into becoming more and more awake. “You look like you need some sleep too.”

Chuckling, Sejin ran a hand down his face. “I’m not going to have you wandering the halls. It won’t take long.”

Eunjae refused to back down, however. With a head jerk at a yawning Hoseok, who looked like he wasn’t even trying to follow the conversation, she asked, “does Hobi know the way?”

At the sound of his name, Hoseok turned from where he was closing the van door and shuffled over to them. Hunched against the cold, his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his now fully zipped coat.

“Yes.” Sejin admitted.

“And the door code?”

The taller man let out a deep sigh, his warm breath puffing into the air. “Yes.”

With a smile of victory brightening her sleepy face, Eunjae rocked back onto her heels with a nod. ��Cool. Then he can show me, right? And you can go home and sleep?”

Sejin’s narrowed eyes lacked heat as he finally relinquished. “You’re stubborn. But fine.”

The man reluctantly translated for Hoseok, who’s lips twitched as he sent Eunjae what looked to be a thankful glance. His response went completely through one of Eunjae’s ears and out the other, his deep voice causing her tired eyes to fall shut momentarily. She was always a sucker for the groggy voices of men who were still half asleep and the sound made her yearn for her bed.

“Someone will come grab you in the morning to take you shopping for some clothes.” The statement was directed at Eunjae and she nodded in acknowledgement of Sejin’s words. With one last glance back at the pair, the taller man made his way back to the van and slipped inside.

The brush of Hoseok’s fingers against the middle of her back brought her attention back to him. With a nod towards the elevators in the middle of the garage, he let his hand drop. “This way.”

The ride up to the eighth floor passed in silence. It was more comfortable than the one in the car and it seemed that whatever skinship they shared in the van chipped away a little at the invisible barrier between them. It was still standing strong, but Eunjae didn’t feel quite as awkward as before. Maybe it was because she was half conscious, or perhaps it was because she’d been snuggled up to his side less than ten minutes ago. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to complain.

With a quiet ding the elevator doors slid open and Eunjae followed Hoseok as he walked straight down the hallway. The beige colored walls and carpeted floor passed them by and at the end of the hall was a T-shaped intersection. Hoseok peeled left, but slowed down as he pointed a thumb in the opposite direction.

“Bangtan’s that way.” Eunjae turned as she glanced at where he was pointing with a hum. He stopped a few feet down in front of a white door with the numbers 821 embedded in a small plaque above it. Hand fluttering at the door, Hoseok spoke again.

“This is you.” With a glance down at her, Hobi made sure that she was watching as he slid up the code panel and slowly typed in a five digit code. The light above the numbers flashed green and a gently beep sounded as he twisted down the handle. He pointed from the panel to her, and back and tilted his head with a small smile. “You understand?”

“Yeah.” If she was going to be on the receiving end of his eye smile every time she spoke Korean, then she was going to find herself fluent, and soon.

Hoseok stood in the doorway with his back propping the door open. He didn’t enter, seemingly not wanting to invade her space. As she brushed past him to step through the threshold, the soft call of her name caused her to turn back towards him mid-step.

“Call if you..,” He trailed off, lips pursed as he searched for the correct words. The hood had fallen off his head sometime from getting out of the car until now and Hoseok reached up a hand to run through his wavy locks.

“I will.” Eunjae smiled at him reassuringly and he sent her back a grateful smile. “Thank you, Hobi.”

Beaming at her once again, Hoseok reached out and gently ruffled the top of her head, unintentionally sending tingles running a path down her spine. “You’re welcome! See you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight.”

"Goodnight." Her voice followed him softly as the door closed behind him, taking both the scent of him and his warmth. Eunjae pressed her forehead against the cool wall closest to her. The apartment behind her was still shrouded in shadow as she sighed into the paint. Tomorrow she was going to meet both Bang PD-nim and the rest of the members of Bangtan.

“No biggie.” Her voice muttered sarcastically into the dark, silent apartment. “No biggie at all.”

#bts #bts fanfic #hoseok #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction

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shesclearlya3 · 5 years

Text

Grow As We Go

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 3,538

warnings: au! in present time, mentions of drug use, overdose, angst, fluffy at times, no camp rw

disclaimer: i am in no way shape or form using the topic of addiction lightly or willingly romanticizing it. the use of heroin is a major problem in my state and my family has personally been affected by it. i lost family to this horrible epidemic and this has been a coping mechanism for me as i was too young to understand the gravity of the situation my family was under at the time it happened seven years ago. i also am not tagging due to possible triggers.

*not entirely proof-read* *inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

You sat on the couch in your shared apartment, waiting for your boyfriend, Xavier, to come home.

It was a Friday night, and like most Friday's, you were supposed to watch movies with him and eat a ridiculous amount of takeout. You had rushed home from work, taking a shower and making sure you shaved your legs for specific events you knew would be happening later that night.

A box of pizza sat on the coffee table, now growing cold. Everything was set up, the television on Netflix, multiple blankets piled up next to you, and you wearing your soft pajamas and fuzzy socks. Xavier was supposed to be home from work nearly two hours ago. He had finally landed a small role on a beloved show, and his excitement about it was the cutest thing you'd ever seen. An eight-hour shoot soon turned into ten.

At least that's what you hoped.

You had sent him a ridiculous amount of texts and voicemails, your voice growing more and more concerned with each one. You went as far as to text your mutual friends, Montana, Brooke, Ray, and Chet, to see if they had heard from them. Nobody had heard anything, but the girls assured you they'd try and contact him in some way.

This wasn't like him, not showing up and ignoring your messages, you thought as you turned off the random episode of your favorite show you started playing. The characters made you feel less lonely. You stood up, slowly pacing the room as you debated on what to do.

Is it too early to file a missing person's report?

"Don't be stupid, y/n," you grumbled to yourself. "Xavier said he can't have his phone while filming."

Another hour had passed by. You had put the untouched pizza in the refrigerator, before going into your bedroom and taking one of Xavier's jackets. You slipped it on, inhaling his scent and feeling more at ease.

Your thoughts only became darker as the time ticked by. You lived in Los Angeles, anything could have happened if he wasn't at work. You had no idea how to call a studio and ask for an actor; for all they knew, you could be a creepy stalker. Your hands were shaking as you stuffed them into the pockets.

One thing that always lingered in the back of your mind was Xavier's past.

When you met him, it was just out of high school. Montana was your best friend for years, and she introduced the two of you just weeks after graduation. They had a little fling, nothing too serious. He was older than you by a year, and you instantly took a liking to him.

The first few times you had hung out, you never thought you'd one day become Xavier's girlfriend. First, it would be against girl code. Second, even though he was with Montana for a short period, he had the mindset of being unable to be tied down.

However, it didn't take long for you to uncover the truth.

Xavier Plympton was a softie hiding behind a facade. He always claimed he didn't need a girlfriend, and all he needed and could rely on was nobody other than himself. His arrogant demeanor attracted girls for the wrong reasons. If they wanted a true rebellious bad boy, they wouldn't find it with Xavier.

Just months after Montana moved on with a guy named Trevor, Xavier had shown up at your doorstep. One of the few times it actually rained in Los Angeles, his car had broken down, and you were the closest apartment to him. His blond hair was matted to his forehead as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"Xavier?" You frowned, pulling your blanket from your shoulders to pull him into your apartment. "Why are you soaking wet?"

"My fucking car broke down, and I got cold," he pouted as you locked the door. "I called for help, and the storm has them backed up, it's like a hurricane out there."

"You need to get out of those clothes, Xavier," you said as you led him to your small bathroom. "How long did they say?"

"I don't know, just a few hours?" Xavier shrugged.

"Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up."

"Yeah..." Xavier grimaced, pulling his cracked iPhone out of his pocket. "I had another little accident."

You huffed a laugh, grabbing a clean towel and setting it on the counter. "What did you do?"

"I tripped and fell, it landed in a puddle, and now it won't turn on, this piece of shit," Xavier mumbled.

"Take a shower, I'll wash your clothes. When you're done, you still have clothes here from the last time you invaded my home." You joked, averting your eyes as Xavier slipped off his drenched shirt.

"I was drunk, and friends don't let friends drive drunk, y/n," he smirked at you. He had already started unbuttoning his expensive jeans when you slammed the door in his face.

When he was done, he came out and lounged with you on the couch. The same one that was now in your new apartment. You forced him to watch Heathers and yelled at him whenever he put his cold feet against your warm body.

Xavier used your phone to call about his car, and they said he'd have to come to look at it in the morning. He smiled at you as you rolled your eyes, granting him permission to sleepover, and you'd drop him off. This is what started your movie marathon traditions. And it's when Xavier kissed you for the first time.

Ever since then, it was like a poorly written romance novel.

You started dating after Montana assured you she wouldn't hate your guts. At the time, Xavier was taking acting classes, making money on the side doing mediocre jobs. You were just months short of getting your degree, and your current job as your primary source of income when you eventually moved in together.

Xavier slowly booked more and more roles over the years. He refused all commercial gigs until his agent eventually stopped offering them. Xavier was proud of his work and spent many nights holding you and telling you when he wins his first Oscar, you better be in the audience so he can show the world what keeps him grounded in life outside of the screen.

Xavier was arrogant about his fame to outsiders. In his inner circle, however, he knew that one day he would blow up. You believed in him, you loved and adored him, and all his accomplishments so far.

Those were the good times.

One thing that Xavier was never open about to anyone besides you was his history with drugs.

Montana had known he was a user when they met. The story was that his parents sent him to rehab after finding needles and a bag of heroin in his room.

But that's all it was, a story.

You remember the night perfectly. You were forced to work over as someone bailed on their shift, and like tonight, you texted Xavier and told him you'd be late, just to get no answer.

When you arrived, the living room was empty, and the house was dark. You called his name after setting your things down, seeing the light coming from the bathroom door. You walked to it, knocking gently.

"Xavier?"

You could hear the shower running and what sounded like quiet sniffles. You frowned, going to touch the handle when you heard his voice. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay, babe?" You questioned. Xavier remained silent for a few seconds, and you could hear the sound of skin against the tub as if he were sitting down.

"I'm fine, I'll be out in a minute." He called, his voice thick.

You decided to leave him be, going into your bedroom and stripping from your uniform. Xavier never liked to cry in front of you. He was self-conscious about it, he wanted you to know he could be strong for you. As much as you told him you hated it, you had only seen him cry a handful of times.

You laid on the bed in your bra and panties, pulling a blanket over you as the bathroom door creaked open. Xavier shuffled into your room, wearing sweatpants and his blond hair pushed away from his face. You could already tell his eyes were red as he put his dirty clothes in the hamper.

"The shower's free," he said, his voice monotone. Xavier refused to look at you. He crossed the room, sitting on the bed before plopping on his back, his head nudged your leg.

"What's wrong, Xavier?" You asked gently. You could smell his body wash, and you slowly pushed yourself down, so your heads were level. He kept his eyes closed.

"I'm fine, y/n,"

You tsked at him. "Your eyes were red."

"So? I got soap in them."

You rolled your eyes, "Don't lie to me, Xavier Plympton!"

"I really don't want to talk about it, babe." He groaned. You continued to stare at him until he opened one eye, snapping it shut when he realized he got caught.

"I had a long day," you whispered. "Please, tell me what's bothering you, Xavier. It's going to kill me inside."

Xavier stared up at the ceiling after he finally cracked. He told you what really happened when he was younger.

When he was 18, one of his closest friends at the time, Andrew, started to become heavily involved in drugs. Xavier initially tried to get him to stop, but one day he was stupidly persuaded to try some. You played with his hair as he quietly explained how it got out of control. Whenever Xavier was angry or upset, he would use.

And then, his friend died.

By the time his parents found him, it was too late. His anniversary had passed a few days before, and suddenly Xavier's sour mood the past few days made sense. You held him tightly as he went on to say that shortly after his friend's funeral, he left his home in the middle of the night and wandered to a park where he injected himself and passed out after stumbling around and hitting his head.

He woke up the next day to a man named Blake, who threatened to expose Xavier's drug use if he didn't repay him for saving Xavier in the park. Your heart pounded in your chest as Xavier admitted that he had made porn, specifically with other males after being extorted by Blake.

You didn't know what to say at this admission. Your heartbreak was not because your current boyfriend, who you've had sex with many times, slept with other men. That was Xavier's worst fear, you abandoning him or leaving after he kept it from you. Your heart was breaking because of what this disgusting man did to the love of your life.

"You don't hate me?" Xavier tearfully asked after you comforted him.

"I don't hate you." You confirmed.

Xavier finished by saying he got away once Blake was arrested for his actions. Xavier and countless other men, some underage, were freed from the monster, but some never fully recovered for the mental abuse they suffered.

"After that, I told my parents that I didn't want to end up like Andrew. I didn't want to die, I wanted to get better. That's when I went and got help, and I've been clean ever since, y/n,"

That was a year ago.

Which is why when you got the call from Montana, your heart shattered.

"They found him slumped over, y/n," Montana said tearfully into the phone as you ran to your car, tears threatening your vision as you climbed inside, gasping for breath. "They were able to revive him, but his parents are out of town, and they won't let me inside!"

"I'll be there soon!" You cried into the phone as you drove as fast as you could to the hospital Montana said they were at. She stayed on the line with you the entire time, but you were both dead silent.

You were out of breath when you finally met her, hugging her tightly as Trevor and Chet stood up at the sight of you.

"We tried contacting his parents again, but they're not fucking answering," Chet explained as he and Montana followed you to the receptionist currently talking on the phone. "None of us are his emergency contact, his mom called me and begged us to come here. They might be on a plane ride back."

"I don't know if I am," you breathed as you impatiently waited for the lady to hang up. "M-Maybe I'll tell them we're engaged, or married?" You whispered.

"Married, most definitely," Montana mumbled.

Chet answered his phone when it started ringing, before stating he was going to meet Ray downstairs and bring him up. You watched him go, feeling more tears well up as the lady finally hung up, typing away on her computer.

"Excuse me!" You gasped, hitting the desk as you all but ran to it. She jumped back, looking at your disheveled state before her eyes settled on Montana.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I've already told you-"

"I'm his wife!" You choked up, causing the woman to look at you. "I-I should be one of his contacts."

The woman slowly looked at your hands, seeing the promise ring Xavier had given you on your first anniversary. She sighed before looking up his files.

"Name?" She asked.

You repeated your name, almost crying in relief when she stood up, "Come on, Mrs. Plympton," she said. Montana watched as you walked off, unable to keep the slight smirk off her face.

When you approached his room, a doctor was just coming out. He stopped at the sight of you two, quirking an eyebrow at the lady as she quietly explained who you were.

"How is he?" You blurted out, not meaning to interrupt the nurse as she spoke.

"He's awake, his vitals are back to normal, but he is a little out of it, I'm afraid." He said before his eyes slowly trailed you up and down. "Mrs. Plympton, are you aware your husband is a user?"

Your mouth was dry as you answered, "Xavier had been sober for almost four years, I-I had no idea he was using again..."

The doctor slowly nodded, but you could still feel his judgemental stare as you shifted uncomfortably. "If I were you, I'd consider the possibility he may need to enter rehabilitation. The use of heroin has become quite an epidemic, if he has been sober for as long as you said, a relapse would seem rather unlikely-"

"Doctor Stephens, with all do respect, I do not believe this is the appropriate time or place," the nurse said, glaring at him as she gently squeezed your arm. "Her husband almost died. Let her see him before we discuss any further steps."

You looked at her gratefully, before noticing her last name was also Stephens. You hid your smile as you realized they were probably married.

"Very well, in you go," he said, before nudging you inside. As the door clicked shut behind you, you heard him mumble, "Sharon, in the workplace we are not-"

You slowly approached Xavier's bed as he tiredly glared at the television, playing old reruns of Friends. He whipped his head around at the sound of your footsteps, and a mixture of relief and remorse crossed his face. "y/n?"

You let the tears spill over as you slowly approached him. His blue eyes shining at you from the reflection of the television. He was hooked up to machines, yet he moved over for you to climb into bed with him. He let you sob into his hair, his own lips trembling as he silently cried.

When you both seemed to settle down, that's when you began to talk.

"What happened, Xavier?" You sniffed. "What caused you to relapse?"

Xavier remained silent, bringing a hand to wipe at his face. The only sounds you could hear were the beeping of his heart monitor.

"When Blake went to trial," he began, "The courts ordered all of our... Tapes to be destroyed," he sighed. "They were, except for one,"

Your stomach dropped as his brows furrowed, another sob bubbling in his chest, but he pushed it down. "It was the second video Blake forced me to make. It was of another kid who was younger than me and me. It was his first time ever having sex. Someone found it, or it had been stolen before the trial, I don't know. It was uploaded to the internet last night, and..." he squeezed his eyes shut as the need to cry suddenly became too much. "I didn't know about it until the FBI called me and informed me today. They took it down, but-"

"Oh my God," you breathed out.

"They don't know how many copies exist, they're doing everything they can to track down the person who uploaded it, but my life is so FUCKED up!" He yelled, more tears spilling over as he buried his head in your chest.

"H-Has anybody?..."

"I don't know, nobody has reported on it, my fucking Instagram hasn't blown up or anything, but my fucking life was supposed to start over, that was all supposed to be behind me." He said. "Some times, I can almost forget that it even happened. My life has changed so much in the past four years. I never had the urge to use again until tonight."

His voice was so broken and small that you almost didn't recognize it. You stroked his hair, hoping it still had the same calming effect on him like the many times before.

"You've come so far, Xavier," you whispered to him. "Everything you've been through, everything you've become is so inspiring." You started to comfort him, but he shook his head in disappointment.

"I'm too much of a fuck-up, y/n," he mumbled. "You don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve you."

"Don't you dare fucking say that!" You gasped.

"It's true, y/n," Xavier said. "Whatever happens because of this, I don't want to be the one responsible for ruining your life. It's going to get out what happened to me tonight, what that guy did, and what I did to myself. You deserve nothing but happiness and a great life."

"Please stop," you whimpered.

"If you want to leave me, I won't stop you. I-I love you too much to hurt you, y/n."

You squeezed him tighter, whispering assurances in his ear that you weren't going to leave him. You loved Xavier with all your heart. "I'm not throwing away two years of us being together over this."

Xavier cupped your wet cheek in his hand, bringing his lips to your forehead as you crumbled beneath his touch.

"W-We can get through this," you said. "Xavier, if people heard the story of what actually happened to you, your real fans will love and support you no matter what. What Blake did was a horrible thing, and now he is spending the rest of his life in prison."

Xavier nodded, but you could still see the hurt in his eyes. "They'll find out I was a heroin addict. Society doesn't care about people like me."

As much as you wanted to convince him he was wrong, you knew in a way that not everybody would be supportive of someone with an addiction, society could be unbearably cruel.

There was a knock at the door, and you both straightened up as two uniformed agents slowly stepped into the room. You immediately found yourself recoiling at the sight of them, more worry coursing through you as Xavier looked at them nervously.

They introduced themselves as partners with the FBI. Due to the ongoing investigation, no details of what happened tonight will be made public. Xavier wished for much secrecy as possible, not wanting any of this to get out.

"We are currently monitoring all adult websites and making sure no articles about this are being made public. The woman who found you is being cooperative and will not spread the word of what has happened, Mr. Plympton."

They stayed for about twenty minutes, explaining that Xavier was under their protection for the time being. When it’s time for him to discharge from the hospital, it will be at an undisclosed time and location, and they also informed you to not be alarmed if any agents show up at your doorstep.

After they left, Xavier was exhausted. You had since moved to the chair, continuing running your fingers through his hair as his eyes drooped.

"y/n?" He whispered.

"What is it, babe?" You asked.

"I'm happy you decided to stay."

You cracked a smile, "Did you really think I wouldn't have?"

Xavier didn't say anything but held a mischievous twinkle in his eye as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. You whispered to him as he slowly dozed off, promising him of a better tomorrow.

And most importantly, of your future with him by your side.

#xavier plympton x reader #cody fern #ahs 1984 #xavier plympton #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #jim mason x reader

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tazatouille · 5 years

Text

seeing angels

word count: 4266

warnings: none

ao3 link

summary: Bucky tries to decipher Sam's love language.

Stark’s funeral is a lot, for everyone.

Bucky does not have any fond memories of Tony, never really got the opportunity to make any if he was being honest. Their shared history was a combination of too many factors out of their own control. There was no room for comfort or redemption between them, especially with the aftermath of their fight.

There are just some things you can't take back.

However, when Pepper moves to send the arc reactor off, Bucky feels himself starting to tear up. He isn't sure what his tears are for. The fall of a hero? What could have been?

Bucky has always been a bit of a crier, ever since he was young. During the war, it was hard to manage, especially the fallen soldiers--- fallen friends.

Sam is standing next to him, his presence strong and comforting. Bucky stares across the water, watching the current gently take the reactor away. Then he looks down at the grass under his feet, wiping his eyes.

Bucky feels a hand on his shoulder and stiffens. He turns his head to look at Sam, who gives his shoulder a firm squeeze in reply. His eyes are kind, in a way that makes Bucky relax. And then, it hits him.

Sam is touching his shoulder.

The thing is, after Bucky was so graciously turned into a brainwashed assassin, people tended to keep their distance. It wasn’t always on purpose and honestly, he didn’t blame those people. He isn’t even sure if he would trust himself after everything he’s done.

Bucky tries not to think anything of it, when Sam’s hand stays for just a bit longer than it should. Sam pulls away, looking back at the water, but the touch still lingers. He can’t help but wonder what exactly Sam was trying to tell him.

—

Bucky notices that Sam hasn’t stopped staring at the shield for almost an hour now, which he doesn’t blame him. He’s not sure how he’d react if he’d received something like it either. The shield itself, simple colors and simple shapes, but somehow carries a world full of complexities.

When they get “home”, Sam abandons the shield, dropping it onto the kitchen table with a hefty thud. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes past Bucky into the room he’s claimed and stays there for the rest of the day.

They have to meet up with Sharon tomorrow morning, so Bucky hopes that Sam feels up to it so they both don’t have to be alone. He thinks about walking in and asking Sam how he’s doing, because getting the news that Steve was leaving wasn’t easy for him either. In fact, he’d rather just push all of those feelings down and try not to think about them.

Would he be overstepping if he went and knocked on his door? What would Bucky say to him? He would hate to overwhelm him even more. Bucky runs his right hand over the smooth vibranium of the— Sam’s shield. They weren’t exactly what Bucky would call close. But I’d like to be some day, he thinks, letting his mind wander to the way Sam touched his shoulder.

Maybe that’s what Sam wants too.

—

“So Steve…” Sharon trails off, trying to process what they told him. That Steve did in fact, leave to go back to the past, to Peggy. It must be weird for Sharon, considering her history. “My aunt? How does that work?”

“We have no idea.” Sam says flatly. “And I don’t want to think about it much.”

Bucky knows Steve’s decision bothers the two of them both. He’s bothered too, what with the way Steve pulled him aside, telling Bucky he was going to leave as if he was just going to the store.

“Well, my aunt was a lovely woman.” It’s supposed to be funny, but there’s no hint of playfulness behind it. “I hate to say it, but the shield is still technically government property.” Sharon explains, folding her arms on the table. “I don’t know what’s going to happen once they find out what Steve’s done.”

There’s an unspoken implication there, which Bucky knows makes Sam feel uneasy because he starts to rip his straw wrapper bit by bit. Bucky has a strange urge to reach out and comfort Sam, but he doesn’t give in.

“They’ll take it away from me.” He states, crushing bits of paper between his fingers.

“Something like that, yeah.” Sharon frowns, face pulling into something thoughtful. “I’ll help you as best I can, Sam.” She gives an assuring squeeze to his arm, which wills him to stop tearing up the paper. He gives a nod back to her and returns her gesture. A conversation.

“The worst you will have to do is work with them on their terms, but it might also be for the best.” She shrugs, but Bucky can tell she knows Sam hates the idea. Before the Snap, Steve, Nat and Sam were criminals to the government. It was unlikely they were just going to turn around and let Sam do whatever he wanted.

That’s because of you, Soldier.

Bucky pushes the thought away and leans slightly closer to Sam.

—

“Hey, you wanna go on a run?” Sam asks, poking his head into Bucky’s room. It’s a rare day where Sam doesn’t have anywhere to go, Bucky assumes. Bucky peeks over his covers to look at him. His room is somewhat trashed at the moment, stray laundry and water bottles everywhere, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Wilson, the sun isn’t even fully out yet.”

“Perfect.” Sam insists, walking over to Bucky and poking his back. He grunts in reply, pulling the covers over his head. Bucky continues getting poked for another minute before he finally lifts himself out of bed, only to grab his other pillow and hit Sam with it.

Bucky is not a morning person, never has been. He knows that Steve and Sam used to go on early runs, which is how they met and all, but Bucky is definitely not Steve. He appreciates some sleep.

Sam huffs, tugging the pillow out of Bucky’s hands and clutching it. “Really, Barnes? Childish.”

“Says the guy who won’t stop poking me to death.”

“Well, I got you up didn’t I? Come on.” Sam grabs his metal hand like it’s nothing and drags Bucky out of bed. Sometimes, Bucky forgets how strong Sam actually is, though most of it is in his thighs.

Not the time, Bucky thinks to himself as Sam pulls him along.

—

Bucky likes the morning jog, more than he cares to admit. It’s nice to be at pace with Sam, even if Bucky was only going half the speed he could.

As they run, Sam explains to Bucky where he’s been. It’s a lot of logistics and technicalities, Sam doesn’t exactly want to be working for SHIELD but he’s decided if it’s what he has to do, then he’ll find a way to work around it. The press is already pulling him around for publicity, everyone wants something from Sam.

Sam is busy. Like really busy.

Sam gets dragged around for important things, like meetings or mission debriefs, but he also stars in interviews on late shows and photoshoots for magazines. Bucky wonders how much of this Steve had to do, what with maintaining a public image in the 21st century. It wasn't as simple as a couple of scripted dancing shows and fake smiles these days.

They eventually slow down near a park bench. Sam takes a minute to catch his breath before taking a seat. Bucky sits next to him, turning his attention to the sky. The sun is just starting to peak over the trees, the soft brush of cool morning air on his bare legs and the chirping of the birds. Bucky can hear Sam’s soft breathing next to him. It’s peaceful. Maybe the most comfortable he’s ever been.

“Thank you for coming with me.” Sam tells him, elbowing his side.

Bucky turns to him and smiles.

—

Bucky gets up early on his own for once. He blames Sam, because always gets up at ungodly hours. Bucky thinks about going on a run, but he opts for making himself breakfast instead. He settles on the couch with his coffee and toast, laptop nestled in his lap. Bucky likes to watch cooking videos on Youtube, call him old if you have to.

A few Bon Appetit videos later, Bucky stumbles on one of Sam’s interviews in his recommended. He places his coffee down on the coffee table and out of curiosity, clicks on the video.

“This must all be new for you, right? Suddenly being thrown in the spotlight?” The woman asks him, leaning forward in her chair.

“Oh definitely, it’s a lot to get used to, but I think I’m managing just fine. I’ve had a lot of help along the way.” Sam replies, hand resting on his thigh.

“Oh? Did Steve Rogers offer any tips to you when he passed the shield? Or was it a sort of “here take this” type thing?”

“Um… not really?” Sam rubs his beard. “I know that sounds terrible, but Steve and I… we met at a very weird time in our lives. We’ve been through a lot together. I feel like from the moment that I met him, we were both teaching each other. There was no point where Steve sat me down and told me, ‘This is what Captain America has to be. So here’s what you are gonna do.’ In fact, becoming Captain America never even crossed my mind until he gave the shield to me.”

“That’s certainly very—“

“You watch my interviews?” A voice asks behind him, mouth full of cereal. He can feel Sam’s face inches away from his own, leaning over his shoulder. Bucky quickly snaps his laptop shut, effectively cutting off the interviewer mid-sentence.

“No.” Bucky says stupidly, but it makes Sam laugh so maybe it was worth it. He silently curses himself for not hearing Sam go into the kitchen, feeling his face get hot.

“Don’t worry about it. Your secrets are safe with me.“ Sam pats his shoulder and joins him on the couch, flicking the TV on. He has a nice striped sweater on this morning. “I liked that one. She was a nice lady, asked good questions.”

“How do you handle it?” Bucky gets a thoughtful hum from Sam as he chews his cereal. “All of the… publicity.”

“You looking to interview me now too?” Sam cracks a smile, but continues, “Captain America… it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” His smile falters. “It just means so many different things to so many different people. Good and bad. And some days it’s like— What if I’m not the Captain America people want me to be?” He sets down his bowl and rests his arms on his knees.

You are everything anyone could want. That’s what Bucky wishes he says, but he lets Sam go on.

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugs. “Following Steve’s footsteps is it’s own battle that I don’t think I’ll ever win. I’m just making my own path using what he gave me and hoping it’s the right one.“ He sighs, shaking his head. “There’s so much going on in this country, Bucky. I just feel like I could be doing more. Should be doing more.”

Sam’s words aren’t traveling to Bucky anymore, as if he’s having a conversation with himself. Bucky battles with the idea that he could reach out and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Would Sam understand? Understand that Bucky thinks he’s the bravest and smartest man he’s ever known?

He thinks about it for too long. Sam returns to his cereal, the opportunity still rattling in Bucky’s mind.

—

It comes up while Bucky is cooking dinner, something that Bucky has taken some solace in over the past few months. They both trade days where they cook, but Bucky actually enjoys it, likes trying new recipes he finds on Youtube or something. He’s stirring some fettuccine when Sam comes up behind him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Bucky furrows his eyebrows, but the look goes away as quickly as it came.

“What’s cooking?” Sam stares at him for a moment and drops his arm. He peeks into the pot. “Ah, pasta.” His eyes wander to the plate with steaming pieces of chicken on it and reaches over. Bucky slaps Sam’s hand away before he can take anything.

“Stop that.” Bucky scolds him. “You can wait a few more minutes.” He stirs in some heavy cream and some Parmesan cheese as Sam takes a seat at the table.

“You doing okay?” Sam asks him and frankly, Bucky doesn’t really know how to answer. He can’t stop thinking about Sam, but he’s not sure how to say that without seeming weird.

“You do this thing.” Bucky says instead, trying to pick out the right words. He puts his spoon down and turns to face him. God, he wishes that he was better at communicating. Sam looks back from the kitchen table, confused.

“What thing?”

“Like— I don’t know. This thing.” Bucky continues, gesturing with his hands. “You do this thing where you touch my arm or my shoulder and I’m just trying to figure it out. Trying to figure out what you are saying to me.”

Sam blinks for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I—No. You don’t have to stop. I just—“ Wish I knew how to say it back.

Sam shrugs. “It’s okay, Buck. I got you. I understand.”

No, that’s— Fuck.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky blurts out without thinking. “You’ve just been the only thing on my mind lately.”

Bucky realizes he’s made a mistake when the corners of Sam’s mouth curl up slightly. He turns back around to add chicken to the pot, distracting himself with stirring it in and not looking at Sam.

There are many ways to interpret what Bucky said. At least, that’s what he tells himself. The thought of Sam knowing that Bucky likes him more than a friend, more than anything, is terrifying.

The crackles and pops of the stove fill the awkward silence, but Bucky can feel Sam’s eyes on him.

—

They are sitting together on the couch, watching some terrible Netflix movie they’ve just added. Bucky doesn’t care for it at all and neither does Sam, it just something they can both make fun of. It’s also something Steve probably would have liked, they teased, because Steve always had a shit taste in movies.

Bucky can’t get drunk, so he’s mostly drinking with Sam as a comfort. Beer isn’t his first pick by all means, sometimes he doesn’t like the taste, but it’s fine to mull over for a few hours.

Sam sips his beer before saying, “Okay, so tell me why this guy is in like— every teen romance movie on here.” He gestures his bottle to the TV and frowns. “There’s gotta be more people out there than just him. He’s not even that good looking.”

“I dunno,” Bucky mumbles. “I wasn’t exactly a catch at his age either.”

Sam looks at him like he just spoke another language, eyebrow raised. “I think you forget who spent two whole years looking for you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bucky asks, taking a swig and looking back at the TV.

“It means I’ve seen more pictures of you that I probably should.” Sam insists and then his face twists in confusion when Bucky cracks a smile. “No, not like that you idiot.” He shoves Bucky on the shoulder playfully. “I mean I’ve seen you— when you were younger. You looked… good.”

Bucky pushes the shoulder touch into the farthest part of his mind to make space for an even larger thought. “Wilson, are you saying you have a crush on me?”

“Had.” Sam says firmly, but there’s something else that makes Bucky believe otherwise. Maybe it’s the beer. “I learned about you in highschool. I saw pictures of you then too. And you know, I’m not a blind man.”

“So you had a crush on me in highschool?”

“Okay, stop that.” Bucky can see Sam getting flustered, his lips are curled in an awkward but cute smile. He watches him take another drink of his beer to hide it. Bucky lets out a loud laugh.

“Good to know that even when I’m dead, I'm still a catch.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but looks back at Bucky softly. In such a way that makes Bucky feel like melting into the couch and staying there for the rest of his life. "What did you want to do when you were younger? Before the war?" He asks, hands fidgeting with his beer.

Bucky thinks for a moment. The thing was, during the 40's, the Barnes were somewhat well off. Reckon, Bucky had to take care of his sisters on his own pretty often, but his parents had demanding jobs. He understood that, so being the oldest of four meant taking care of everything else.

"I wanted to be a writer." Bucky says, more clearly than he remembers it. It's familiar on his tongue, he thinks, and it catches Sam's attention.

"A writer?"

"Yeah, I uh-- used to write a lot when I was younger." Bucky feels like he's talking through water. Garbled and distorted. He goes slowly as he continues, like piecing together a puzzle. "I wasn't any good at it. I think they were sci-fi mostly. My stories. I used to read them outloud to Steve when he was bedridden." Bucky sets his beer down on the coffee table. He scratches his beard.

"Do you still write?" Sam asks carefully.

"Stories? No, not really. I still journal though. Did it during the war. It was the only thing that--" He stops there. Kept me alive.

Bucky guesses that Sam fills in the blanks, because he scoots over ever so slightly so that their thighs touch. It's that comfort again, the warm stability that Bucky gets every time Sam touches his skin.

"And what about you?" Bucky asks. "What did you want to do?"

A smile tugs back on Sam's lips and it's here that Bucky realizes that he is seeing a very different Sam than everyone else does.

It not that Sam isn't genuine, everything he does is honest and true. Bucky knows that. In fact, it's one of the only things he's sure of. To be vulnerable, to be open and so beautiful. Every smile, every slip of laughter or touch. Sam fills his headspace, flies circles around it until Bucky can't think anymore.

"Believe it or not, I've always wanted to be a pilot." Sam says and there's a glitter in his eye when he begins. "It's kind of dumb actually, but I used to collect these--" Sam makes a pinching motion. "--tiny model airplanes. I used to have a whole shelf of them."

"Oh, that's--"

"Stupid?"

"Adorable." Bucky assures him. "It's absolutely adorable."

Bucky lets himself imagine a young Sam, with his toothy smile, playing with toy airplanes. Part of Bucky wonders what would have happened if Sam met the old him. The young man from the 40’s who’s words slipped so effortlessly off his tongue and swept people away so quickly.

Luckily, Sam only knows one version of Bucky and Bucky isn’t sure if Sam would like the old him the same.

Sam’s sweet laughter interrupts his thoughts. "I technically never got to be a pilot, but I'm happy with what I got now." He bumps their shoulders together and glances at Bucky.

Bucky's face feels hot. He’d blame it on the beer, but he knows he can’t. Thanks super serum. He looks back at Sam.

“Well, I think I’m happy with what I got now too.”

—

Bucky finds Captain America’s instagram when Sam tugs on his jacket one day and leans in for a picture, bright smile planted on his face.

Bucky blinks stupidly before he realizes and grins out of reflex. He watches Sam pull his phone away and looks at their photo. He smiles. “I think I might keep this one for myself.”

(Bucky finds out later after a quick google search that Sam did in fact, keep it.)

"Are you sure you want me here?" Bucky tugs on his jacket sleeve and watches the scurrying crew run around. One young man is jugging lattes in one hand and pastries in the other. “Not exactly sure if this is my scene.”

Sam had asked Bucky to come with him to one of his interviews, which although Bucky isn’t great with crowds, he still said yes to anyway. Who could say no to Sam?

“Is anything your scene, Barnes?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just kidding. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, you know.” He turns to Bucky with a soft expression. But I’d appreciate it if you would.

And so Bucky stays.

—

Bucky shifts awkwardly in his seat, right in the front row. This is the first time Bucky has ever actually watched any of Sam’s interviews live. They are usually short and sweet, but some of them have questions that really grind his gears. Bucky hopes this isn’t the case tonight, because he can’t go ruining their public image right now.

Sam is wearing a dark blue suit, with a white shirt that’s unbuttoned slightly so you can see some of his collar bone. He looks great, as per usual.

“Captain America, thank you for joining us tonight.” The host greets, grinning at the audience.

“Thank you. Thanks for having me.” Sam smiles back at him, but Bucky knows it’s not the same as the ones he gets. Sam leans over to shake the host’s hand, something that Bucky notices he always does at these things.

“So, Sam, how has it been?” The host leans back in his chair. “Becoming Captain America, I mean. I see you everywhere.”

“It hasn’t been easy, that’s for sure.” Sam adjusts his sleeve. “I’m grateful for it though, it’s been one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.”

Bucky frowns for a moment, tries not to focus on the times that he’s seen Sam shut down. When a mission is too hard or the public too overwhelming. When his bedroom door closes and doesn’t open till the next morning. Of course, no one here gets to see that.

“And you’ve brought the shield with you today is what I hear?”

Sam laughs. “Yes.” He reaches behind his chair to pull it out, shining against the lights above. “Yes, I have.”

The audience around Bucky erupts into cheers and whistles, which makes him wince at first. Sometimes, things are too loud for Bucky, making his headspace feel like mush, but he gets up to clap along with them anyways, because he’s clapping for Sam.

For Captain America.

—

The rest of the bit goes smoothly. Sam has always been good with entertaining people. Bucky meets him backstage after Sam's spot is over. He's strung up too tight, he thinks. Sam's shoulders are stiff, his arms crossed over his chest.

He carries the world on his shoulders as if he’s the only one who can do it, Bucky thinks.

"Hey, you were great." Bucky tells him with a smile. He watches some of the tension release from Sam's body.

"You think so?' Sam replies, dropping his arms. "Man, those never get any easier."

Bucky nods. "Yeah, they loved you." But then again, who wouldn't?

"You don't need to go sweet on me, Barnes." Sam bites his lip to hold back a smile and the small curve of his mouth alone makes Bucky want to melt into a puddle.

Before they can say anything else, someone calls out, "Mr. Wilson, a minute please?" Sam looks over his shoulder, then turns to put a hand on Bucky’s arm, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Stay right here.” He says, almost like a plea. “Promise we'll be home soon." Sam drops his hand and hurries away, leaving Bucky’s heart beating too fast. Bucky rubs his arm over the spot where Sam’s hand was without even thinking about it.

He watches as Sam gets flooded with a wave of people he doesn’t recognize and wonders if they know Sam like he does. Or if Sam gives the same touches to them with the same messages that Bucky tries so desperately to translate.

Interrupting his thoughts, Sam catches Bucky’s gaze for just a moment, giving him a small smile between the movement of the crowd before turning away.

—

When they get in their car, Bucky can't help but notice how exhausted Sam is. He's curled up against the door, head leaning on the glass as the street lights bounce off of his skin. His hand rests kindly against his thigh as he stares out the window.

Bucky lets his mind wander as their chauffeur takes them home. Thinks about the way Sam touched his shoulder, the way he brushed their legs together or the way he held onto his arm just an hour before. It comes so naturally for Sam, the small touches.

And so, Bucky carefully reaches over and takes Sam’s hand. Easily, Sam’s fingers curl around his, as if their hands were made to fit together. Two missing pieces that have been lost from the puzzle for far too long.

But now, it’s complete.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #marvel #my writing

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amysantiagoisfone · 5 years

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The Blanket

Hey, @amydancepants-peralta, I am your @b99fandomevents fix exchange writer! I really hope you enjoy this!! Thank you for giving me the idea <3

Summary: As Jake and Amy's relationship becomes more stable, they start to learn each other's annoying quirks and wonderful traits- which is just what Jake wanted to do this weekend. (Set just before s3's episode the cruise, where Jake and Amy admit that they love each other.) (word count: 2,074)

Read On Ao3

---

New York was never the hottest place on earth. It was a fact that Jake had to deal with, arming himself with expensive blankets (Too expensive, definitely not warm enough to keep a penguin warm in the Antarctic, as the commercial that got Jake to call in had promised) and warm PJs against the chill that started in September, fighting against the feeling of waking up in the morning with that gross half-cold that could last the entire day.

Sighing as he got out of the elevator, Jake could feel the AC heating up his nostrils, his hands, until he felt warm enough to take his coat off, draping it over his forearm.

His shoes made a squelching sound as he walked past Captain Holt, greeting him with that "Mornin' Cap'n" that would've granted him a lesson on how to say the word 'Captain' in the past, but now it was just ignored- Jake saw that as a definite victory.

"Peralta, why are your shoes making that sound?" Holt asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw set as if he were angry, but after three years of being under Holt's command, Jake knew that that's just how his face was usually set, making it super hard to understand if the Captain was actually mad, sad, or glad.

"Got out of my car and into a puddle, Sir. Just, straight in," He said, trying to sharpen the image of the incident with a motion of his hand, going downwards.

"Take your shoes off and put them outside," He commanded, an edge of annoyance in his voice that usually colored his speech when he spoke to Jake for more than a minute.

"With all due respect Sir, taking my shoes off is something we got's to avoid," Jake whispered quickly, piercing his lips as he looked at his Captain, wide eyed and waiting for his answer.

Holt huffed through his nose (disastrously dramatic) uncrossing his arms and putting one hand in his pocket. "Dry them off in the bathroom. I highly suggest you leave a change of clothes in the precinct with your track record."

Jake obviously knew what the Captain was talking about- Terry's Yoghurt incident, Charles' steaming pot of whatever-gross-thing-he-was-making, that one time he missed a d-hole (He blamed it on the fact that the donut hole was powdered. "I didn't account the weight of the powder in my calculations!" to which Amy said "You don't even know how to heat up leftover pizza.")

"Duly noted, Cap'n," But Holt was already walking away from him.

Before he'd go and dry his shoes, Jake decided to start his computer up. Even if he'll be gone for fifteen minutes with his shoes, he was sure he'd come back to the loading screen still halfway done. Amy was already sitting at her desk, working with the hard copy of a case until her own computer was ready to go.

When they wouldn't spend the night together she'd come early, and on the days where they did (nights that were becoming more and more frequent, to Jake's satisfaction) they'd come on time- Well, Amy would come on time, and Jake would come in five minutes later, to make sure Charles won't freak out.

"God, that noise is annoying," Amy said, without looking up from her file. She was smiling though, and soon enough she did look up at him, catching him in the middle of dressing his chair with his coat. He leaned in to press the 'on' button on the computer, before he stood next to Amy's chair, walking in place and grinning down at her while the sound of his shoes seemed to irritate her immensely.

"Ha, ha," She said sarcastically, even though her face seemed pretty entertained. Jake's own face seemed smug, because making Amy want to smile, seeing the edges of her lips forced down because we're at work, Jake, felt like the biggest, most definite victory of them all.

He leaned his hand on Amy's desk and looked around. Charles was in the breakroom, far enough for them to talk without his interruptions.

"I was thinking, maybe, a weekend in? Order take-out and watch something on Netflix?" A weekend in and something to watch was the next big step in a relationship, as Jake saw it. To him, it was the moment a relationship got serious- Fancy dinners, pretty clothes and hooking up was amazing, of course, but he wanted to see the more casual side of Amy. In all of his past relationships, that's what he liked best- the moment it went from dates to hanging out, to a routine life with someone he liked.

"On one condition," She said, leaning closer. "Uh-huh," Jake retaliated, biting his smile. "No Die Hard."

Jake huffed, leaning back and clapping his hands together. "You drive a hard bargain, Ames. Fine, you'll pick the movie." Amy's smile made her whole face scrunch up. Stupidly adorable. "I'll come over at Eight." He smiled as she agreed, before walking off to take care of his shoes, wondering where he could get a different pair.

----

At Seven-Fifty Seven, Jake heard the doorbell ring. It was nice to not have to straighten a buttoned-up shirt or check his breath. He opened the door to find Amy in a regular T-shirt and comfortable leggings, making his already wide smile grow wider. "Hey," She said, getting through the door and pecking his lips. "I ordered Chinese, extra Egg Rolls as you wanted. Should be here any minute," Jake sat on the sofa, and Amy immediately sat next to him. "Great, I'm starving. I didn't actually get to eat lunch today, too preoccupied with this case," Jake leaned his head closer, his arm around her shoulders, his attention all on her. "Rosa and I are working on a murder. A woman fell off a fourth-floor window. It seems like no one was in the apartment, but she had fresh bruises around the neck and forearms."

"There was definitely someone in that apartment. Maybe a partner? Got into a fight?" He suggested, and Amy nodded. "That's what we thought- but her husband was out of town. He's heading back to the city right now, we're meeting him tomorrow to go through our list of suspects."

Jake nodded, but tried to shut off his detective-brain. He definitely couldn't. "Any good suspects?" Amy sighed, shaking her head. "No signs of forced entry. If she did get murdered, it was someone she trusted."

Amy kept talking about the case, her hands gesticulating and her eyes shining and eyebrows raising at the ends of her sentences. Even though Jake listened to Amy and knew that what happened to that woman was horrible, he couldn't help but smile. "So there might be a conne- why are you smiling? Don't tell me you solved it," Amy leaned her head to the side and was smiling with him now. Jake shook his head no, "It's nothing. You're just adorable. Do continue," Amy didn't try to hide her smile now, kissing Jake for a moment before she continued all the same, only to be cut off by a knock on the door.

"If it's not the Egg Rolls I'll literally start eating the couch," Jake said, getting up to open the door.

---

Three hours of noodles, Sushi and teaching Amy how to use Chopsticks later, she was sleeping next to him, her arm around his stomach, lips parted, cheek squished to his chest. As much as he hated waking her up, Jake knew it was best to do so- sleeping like this will lead to a day of a painful neck. "Ames," Jake whispered, rubbing her arm. She let out a soft 'huh', her eyes still shut. "I can't believe you picked the movie and still fell asleep," Jake teased, and then her eyes looked up at him, so tired and comfortable. "C'mon, I'll give you the good lump." At that, Amy groaned. "You and your lumps," She muttered, getting up with Jake to his bed.

"A change of clothes?" Jake held out a warm shirt. Amy took it and turned away from him, which almost made Jake snort. He stayed silent, changing his own shirt and turning the AC on. The room was filled with the beeps of the AC as Jake flipped through the settings until he got to warm. "Thanks, I get super cold when the weather's like this," Amy said, kissing his cheek and getting into bed.

"Yeah, same. People that put their AC on cold are ruthless," Jake took his place next to her, wrapping himself with the best, warmest blanket he had. Amy was turned away from him, as she liked to sleep facing the edge of the bed. He looped one arm around her stomach as she settled, taking a bit too much of the blanket for Jake's liking- His thigh was peeking under, and when it comes to the cold, every inch of his body needs to be covered to survive the night.

Jake tugged at the blanket, just enough to cover up again, only for Amy to take the blanket- this time, she took even more, and he saw the bunched up fabric of the blanket against her chest. His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply through his nose. "Blanket hog!" Jake whispered in a pointed manner, making Amy turn towards him.

"Your blanket's too narrow for two people!"

"It's not too narrow if you stop hogging it like the hog you are, you hog. This is MY blanket, it was too expensive for me not to use it."

Amy gasped, and with that she took more of the blanket. "No, no," Jake muttered as he pulled at Amy's bunch until they were both hugging the blanket to their chest, half and half, pulling at it until a tear formed in the middle of the blanket. The good news was that it didn't go all the way through, but it was definitely unusable for two people.

Jake gasped, then groaned, throwing his hand in the air. "I'll fix it up somehow tomorrow," He said, getting up and reaching for another blanket. This one was wider, definitely enough for two people (or a single human burrito)

The blanket was thinner than his normal one, but there were no holes in it. With this blanket, Amy could still (annoyingly) bunch the fabric up and Jake would have enough to be fully covered.

In the morning, Jake knew Amy was around even if she wasn't in his bed. He searched the room and figured she was in the living room. Making his way to the kitchen, Jake stopped himself when he went into the living room. Amy was sitting on the couch. Having moved the trash of last night's date, she sprawled the blanket on the coffee table, sewing it methodically.

"Coffee?" Jake asked, and Amy looked up from her work, her hands still on the blanket. "Please. Your machine kept beeping at me and I was scared it'd start splashing steaming water in my eyes." She went back to her sewing, and Jake joined her on the sofa a few minutes later, two cups of coffee in hand. "You really don't have to," Jake looked at her, wondering if she felt guilty and that's why she tried to fix the blanket. "I know. But I want to. It's a good blanket, and I want to keep it alive." Amy shrugged, piercing the fabric once more. "Besides, I could use the practice, not a lot of time stitching between work and dating and, well, everything else."

Jake looked at Amy for a few moments, at how her hands moved swiftly and steadily, before he turned the TV on. "Thank you, it's really nice that you're doing this for me."

Amy turned to him, pecking his lips quickly, then biting her own. "It's the least I can do after you gave me the good lump."

As the morning kept on going and the blanket was finished, the two cuddled under it, finally watching a movie that Amy picked, eating cold take out and ordering some more food.

That weekend, of being together and fighting, making out, talking, laughing and making it all feel so routine in the best way possible made Jake want to stay like that forever, as long as he had Amy with him, he could make do with no one else.

#b99 fall 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #b99 #brooklyn nine ni #fanfiction #b99 fanfiction #peraltiago #peraltiago fic

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bbyboybrock--archived · 5 years

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Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 14

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 2,639

Warnings: swearing

Serendipity Masterlist

After talking to me for a bit the nurse decided that it was best to keep me for to go home. They kept me overnight to be safe, but even that was hell. They kept me in my room stuck to the bed, just in case I faked my mental clarity to get out. Even though I'm old enough to discharge myself they made me wait until someone could pick me up. Lucky for me, Colby was already on his was over. Which worked out because when the nurse finally handed me my phone back, it was dead. They said it kept going off all night with phone calls and texts from unsaved numbers. Someone decided that I had too much privacy and leaked my phone number. Thankfully my address is still under wraps.

When I first saw Colby, my heart ached. His eyes were puffy and red. He looked paler than usual and his hair is messier than usual. I can't tell if it's because he didn't sleep, was crying, or both. It hurts me to know that I caused this. He probably was crying and didn't sleep. I made him worry. I made him see me like that. And he still came to the hospital early in the morning to pick me up. I don't deserve him.

"Where do you want to eat?" Colby doesn't take his eyes off the road.

"I'm not really hungry. You can just drop me off at my apartment."

"Drop you off? I was thinking that you'd stay with me at the trap house for a little bit." I stare at Colby for a second.

"Colby, I was thinking while I was in the hospital. I think we should take a break. Just until I get my shit together. It's not fair that you have to deal with all my baggage." I wait for Colby to answer or do something. Instead, he pulls the car over into a random CVS parking lot. He puts the car into park and turns to me.

"Isabella, I get it. A lot of unfair and messed up shit happened to you in the past few days. I know it can be overwhelming. But you don't get to shut me out. You want to break up with me? Fine, we're done. But that's not going to change how I feel about you. I want to help you. You help all of us. You make sure we drink enough water and take aspirin before a night out so we don't have a hangover in the morning. You pack snacks for any outing we go on because you know that's the last thing on our minds and you don't want any of us to go hungry. You help all of us with our videos before you even finish doing your videos. For once, put yourself first. You need help and I want to help you. You just have to let me." He stares at me for a second, waiting for my reaction. I have no idea how to react. A tornado of emotions whirl inside me and I don't know which one is the in charge.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm fucking things up. I'm sorry." This is all I'm able to come up with. Colby just poured his feelings that he's probably been holding in for months and all I can do is apologize. I look out the window before Colby can see me crying.

"Shit, look, I didn't mean to make you upset—"

"I'm not upset, I'm just overwhelmed. I get where you're coming from. I don't want to break up, but maybe just a pause on the relationship stuff? Just until I'm in a better place."

"Whatever helps you get better."

Colby was right. I do push him away and take care of everyone first. It's not that I do it on purpose, it just happens. Maybe I'm projecting the abandonment I felt during my shitty childhood and even shittier teenage years. Maybe the feeling of having no one to care for makes me subconsciously and annoyingly take care of others. Hell, I didn't even tell Colby that I was allergic to peanut butter until way after we started dating. I didn't even tell him when he was chasing me around the house with peanut buttery fingers the day Gabby came. It wasn't until I let Colby make us a snack and I bit into the sandwich that I realized I never told him. That was a fun experience, which included a quick trip to the hospital before I went into complexly anaphylactic shock. I told him that it used to be worse, which it was. My mother couldn't even have any in the house because one sniff would end me. Luckily, I kept my EpiPen and allergy pills in my bag. I kept the pills just in case we got Chick-fil-a or Five Guys for once because they use peanut oil.

The thing is, if I couldn't even tell my boyfriend that one tiny, insignificant peanut could end my shit right then and there, how could I tell him all the dark scary stuff? I told him one major dark, traumatizing thing about my life already, and it was terrifying. Even then, I only told Colby that so he wouldn't think I was a complete psycho after he experienced my shit show of a family first hand.

Colby is as perfect as any single human being could be. At least, he's perfect compared to me. I wanted to preserve that perfectness any way possible. Whatever he's been through in life, it hasn't been as messy and fucked up as what I've been through. I want to protect him from all that, I want to protect him from me. From my drama and my overall bullshit. His life was better before I was in it. He didn't have to deal with my parents or me being an emotional wreck. So maybe it would be better for Colby if we were to break up. He could live his life like it was before and find someone else to love that actually deserves it.

****

We get to the trap house after Colby makes me eat something. We decided on just getting breakfast at McDonald's. I didn't even realize how hungry I was until we got our food. I guess Colby knows me better than I know myself. When we got to the trap house I ended up taking a nap in Colby's bed, whatever drugs they gave me yesterday are still doing their magic on me. I refused to even lay down unless Colby was laying next to me. I fell asleep in his arms almost instantly. I woke up what feels like an hour later to an empty bed and room. I roll over to find my phone plugged in and a cup of water. Colby's probably somewhere in the house or out because he needs a break. I don't blame him.

I sit up and drink some water and stare at my phone. I carefully pick it up and turn it on. I don't know why I have a hint of what's going on. My number was most likely leaked because I deserve not a single shred of privacy in my life. That or my email is going crazy with brand and companies terminating my contract. After sitting for a second the notifications start flooding in. A mixture of emails, phone calls, voicemail, and text messages attack my phone. Stupidly, I decide to read the messages and listen to a couple voicemails. I throw my phone across the room in frustration. I don't even know what I expected.

A few seconds later I hear a small knock and the door creak open a little bit. I look to see a familiar patch of blond hair and concerned blue eyes peeking through. When we make eye contact, Sam pushes the door all the way open and stands by the door. I quickly scan his face but I can't read it.

"Are you my babysitter?" I close my eyes for a second and slightly shake my head. That comment came out bitchier than I intended.

"I just happened to be staying home today editing and Colby asked me to keep an eye out."

I can tell by looking at his eyes that he wants to ask me something but can't figure out how.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound rude. He told you, didn't he?" Sam comes in the room completely and shuts the door. He sits on the couch.

"He did, but only because I ran into him when I came home last night and he needed to talk. He didn't tell anyone else and neither did I."

"I'm not mad that he told you, Sam. I'm actually kind of glad he's not pulling a 'me' a bottling everything up. Where did he go?"

"He's at your apartment to get some things. You're staying here for a bit is what I heard."

"Yeah, I only agreed to stay because I didn't want to hurt Colby anymore than I already have. Even breaking up with him."

"You broke up with Colby? When?"

"This morning. I told him that I need a break so I get back into a better head space. But I really broke up with him because I can't keep doing this to him."

"Do you want to talk about it? About yesterday I mean?"

"Are you asking to be nice because that's what we're supposed to do or do you actually want to know?"

"I'm kind of hurt that you would ask me that. You should know me better than that by now. You can tell me if you want to, but don't doubt that I won't be here to genuinely listen." Sam and I have had several conversations about social cues and questions that are always asked but nobody actually wants to hear the answers to. He's right, I should know him better by now.

"Sorry, you're right. How much has Colby told you about me? Like, family-wise."

"Nothing other than you having family problems and you aren't close with them. Other than that I know nothing." I hesitate for a second. I can trust Sam, I've gotten really close to him in the time that I've dated Colby.

"Well, to keep a long and complicated story short, my relationship with my mom isn't the best. She texted me a few days ago saying that she wanted to talk. With everything that's happened in the past few days, I thought that maybe something good was coming out of it. That maybe she wanted to help or give the support or something. She even said we should meet at a diner where she took my brothers and me when we were younger. However, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, it was an ambush. She told me that I am no longer a member of my family. That I constantly bring shame to the family name. Like she didn't call me out of the blue a few months ago and asked me to visit her under the guise that everything was going to be better just so she can lie and ask me for money. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. What does it say about me if I get fooled a third time?" I bite my tongue to keep myself from crying. I've cried too much already and I don't want to make Sam anymore uncomfortable than he already is.

"Look, I don't get it. I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through. I will tell you that your family and whoever leaked all those things about you are the ones at fault. If I didn't know you first hand, I wouldn't necessarily agree with what everyone else is saying but I wouldn't give you much sympathy. But I do know you and I know that everyone is judging you based on one side of the story. And that your family is just a bunch of assholes who don't know what they're missing out on."

"I know, I keep telling myself that. It's just... the people who are supposed to love me most in the world abandoned me twice in two of my lowest points. At this point, I have basically nobody. I don't have a family. Let's face it, if Colby and I really broke up or if we never even met in the first place, then the friendship that I have with all of you won't be or wouldn't be a thing." Sam gets up and sits next to me on the bed.

"You're probably right if you didn't meet Colby none of us would be friends with you. I can't say anything about what would happen if you two broke up, or officially break up for that matter. But unless you do some insane thing like cheat on Colby or Colby told us not to hang out with you then I might not. But trust me, Kat, Devyn, and Xepher would still be your friends. But you know what? We're your family. Actually, fuck it. I'll adopt you. As of right now, you're my little sister. Might as well change your name to Isabella Golbach, because I'll take you in." I can't help but giggle.

"Okay, Sammy I get it. I'm stuck with all of you at this point unless there is a major reason not to be. Thanks for listening. I really mean it."

"Don't mention it, little sis. And I won't tell anyone, not even Colby."

"Don't worry about that. I'll talk to him when he gets home. I'll let you get back to editing. I'm going to take a shower and do some thinking." Sam and I give each other a quick hug before he leaves.

A few minutes later Colby comes in with food and a backpack. He puts everything down before taking a bag and a drink and disappearing into Sam's room. He comes back sits next to me on the bed. He almost goes to kiss me out of habit but stops when he remembers that we're technically not together anymore. I know it's hurting him even more and it's hurting me too.

"I got you a burrito because you say it's like eating a hug and I think you need that hug," Colby says as he hands me a Chipotle bag.

"Thank you. Hey, can we talk for a second?" I place the bag down on the bed and pat a spot next to me for Colby to sit.

I tell Colby everything I told Sam but in more detail. I told him what my mom said and apologize for putting him what I put him through. And then I tell him that I changed my mind. That I don't want to be broken up or on pause. That I just don't want to do anything major relationship-like for a little bit. Just because someone out there in the world decided that I no longer deserved privacy, I don't have to make Colby and I suffer. I also tell him about my number being leaked and how I possibly broke my phone by throwing it.

Being the understanding boyfriend that Colby is, he hugs and reassures me that everything is going to be alright. He gives me a few more comforting words before letting me go take a shower. When I get back we crawl into bed and watch a few movies while we ate. Colby falls asleep about halfway through the 3rd movie. I cover him with the blanket and clean up the food trash before going back into bed next to him and watch a few more movies with headphones in.

#colby #colby brock #colby fanfic #colby fan fic #colby fanfiction #colby fan fiction #colby brock fan fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fan fiction #colby brock fanfiction

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thorne93 · 5 years

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Stan Lee University (Part 9)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 2110

Warnings: drama, language, betrayal, adult content (not smut, but it’s like TV-14 rating...)

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong

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

The next morning, you woke up really late and decided to go get some lunch. You were starving and you left your dorm, in search of food. You weren’t sure if you’d go off campus or just go to the cafe and grab a sandwich. You figured you’d decide once you stepped outside.

Just as you were about to leave the lobby though, Loki walked in, holding a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Must be for a girl he met last night, you thought with irritation.

His eyes found you and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ah, Y/N. I found you.”

“Oh, yes, because I’m so hard to locate.” You rolled your eyes and started to walk by him.

“Wait, wait,” he said, stepping backwards and in front of you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk and an ass.” He pushed the flowers toward you. “For you.”

“You think you can just hand me some flowers and you acting the way you did will just make this all go away?” you demanded, flabbergasted.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what? Because I can forgive being drunk if you were just a lot to handle, but you went and kissed other people on our date, Loki. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I know it is. I’m.. I realize you weren’t trying to stop the game or having a good time, but I took it personally. When I drink, I turn into a dick.”

“That’s a poor excuse,” you said, starting to walk around him again.

“I only did it because I wanted to kiss you.”

Your eyes narrowed and you turned, your hand on the handle to leave the lobby of the dorms. You spun, your gaze on his. “What was that?”

“I wasn’t trying to do it to kiss other people. I was doing it because I’d hope you join and it would be an excuse for me kissing you without making things awkward.” He peered at you with such apology, you were actually starting to believe him.

“A guy that flirts like you doesn’t exactly need an excuse to kiss your date. It’s kind of all part of the experience,” you commented, the annoyance gone from your voice.

“Yes, but, you’re rather intimidating,” he informed with a tiny smile.

“So I’ve heard,” you muttered. “But why didn’t you stop when I didn’t want to join?”

He sighed. “I hoped, stupidly, that you would join anyway. Maybe you’d get jealous, or change your mind. Idiotic, I know.”

You screwed your mouth to the side in thought. Maybe he really wasn’t that bad of a guy. Maybe he was just trying to kiss you without rushing things.

In a swift motion, you grabbed the flowers and reached your hand up to his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were short of freezing, but you didn’t mind. They moved quickly, after the initial shock, his lips firm and precise on yours. The kiss was quick, but filled with promise.

You let him go and grinned.

“Wanna go get lunch, you idiot?” you asked.

“Ah, just what a man loves to hear, insults on being asked to a date.”

“Well as long as you don’t make out with anyone else on this date, we’ll be okay,” you assured laughing as you put your arm through his.

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

“You’re giving him another chance?” Natasha asked as the three of you sat in Clint’s apartment.

“Yeah. I mean, he was a dick but it was for kind of a cute reason.”

“Or a stupid reason,” she muttered, taking a sip of her water.

“Well, if he’s really a jerk, he’ll show his colors again.”

“Are you sure?” Clint interjected. “You were pretty upset last night.”

“Yeah but I was just being over emotional.”

“What about that one guy, in your lab?” Natasha mentioned and your stomach did a flop.

“Who? You mean Stephen?”

“Yeah, what’s happening on that front?”

You snorted and shook your head. “He made it clear he didn’t want to date me. I asked him to the party and…” You shook your head, stopping the statement. “But then at the party he was really sweet and I drove him back to school and… I don’t know he’s too hot then cold. At least Loki’s sort of consistent.”

“Yes, consistently an ass. It sounds like you need to tell both guys to fuck off,” Nat remarked.

“I second that,” Clint said.

“It’s easy for you two. You’re practically married, you two are perfect. But for us single folk, it’s a little harder.”

“You act as if your choice is an asshole or a dick,” Nat noted disdainfully.

You shrugged. “I’m just saying, this campus is small. I’m going after the few guys I didn’t go to high school with. That’s all.”

“Well don’t settle. College isn’t the end all be all of the dating pool.”

“Again, you two can’t lecture me,” you sternly said before laughing.

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

Three more weeks passed and Loki was more affectionate and on a fast track to becoming your boyfriend. The two of you got lunch together every day, and spent nearly every evening in your dorm discussing books and movies. Not to mention Loki showing up before Lit class at your dorm just to walk you to class.

When he actually tried, he was very romantic and sweet.

Stephen on the other hand was still very on and off, and frankly it was driving you mad.

Sure, Loki seemed better, great even. But something about Stephen. He seemed more grounded, more mature, he knew his life was heading in a certain direction and he was working to get there. That was always something you’d admired and wanted in a life partner was a guy with goals, ambitions, and the drive to make it happen. Bucky didn’t seem to share that. Sure, Bucky was going to school for engineering, he hoped to do something with prosthetics, but he lacked maturity.

While Loki was smart, funny, and entertaining, he lacked the seriousness you desired in a guy. Stephen might’ve been hot and cold, but there was just something about when the two of you had such close moments that you couldn’t write off. Especially that sense of trust. You didn’t quite have that with Loki, but it was there with Stephen.

But the fact of the matter was, Loki was putting forth effort to be with you, to be around you. And so far, all Stephen had done was give you his number, and that was just for the physics project. And the hand graze when you reached for the worksheets. And the staring at you then smiling.

Damn him.

No, you were with a guy who was actually trying, you thought, trying to convince yourself. If Stephen wanted to be with you, he would’ve said something by now.

Loki was lying on your bed, his head at the foot end - as usual, when he patted the space next to you. “Come on, we’ve got three chapters to get through tonight,” he encouraged.

“Are you sure we aren’t just going to end up making out?” you asked incredulously with a grin as you climbed onto the bed. That’s usually how it went for you two. The homework would start, but then ten minutes in, you two would be making out - rather heatedly.

The last time this happened, he had his hand up your shirt and his other hand traveled to your pants but you stopped him. You weren’t sure you were ready for that yet.

“It’s highly likely, darling,” he cooed as he kissed behind your ear, making you shiver.

You let the feelings wash over you of arousal before your senses snapped back.

“Okay, if you’re going to be here, you have to behave.”

He raised his hand in surrender and oath. “On my word.”

“Good.”

The two of you started to read, you got past the first chapter, swapping off characters, when you suddenly read a line about desire and lust.

“And their hands just wouldn’t stop. They wanted them to, they needed them to, but the fire was building, growing…” Your eyes drifted to Loki’s who was already trained on your face.

Like a switch was flipped, you two lunged at each other. In a split second he was on top of you, his hands moving through your hair, your mouths colliding almost violently. He was between your legs quickly, grinding on top of you.

His hand moved up your shirt to cup your breast before he nearly attacked your mouth again. You we're already panting as you grabbed at his shirt, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He took the hint and helped you pull his shirt off. You figured he would help pull yours off, but in a twist of events you didn't see coming, he grabbed at the hem of your shirt with his teeth and pulled up.

Well if you weren't aroused before, you sure as hell were now.

He leaned up and you ripped at his belt as if your life depended on it and he watched you with lust blown pupils. In a swift motion, his belt was off and you were making quick work of his pants.

Now that he was in his boxers, he tugged your jeans off quickly, his fingers digging into your flash as he drug them down your legs.

He left you in your bra and panties for just moment while he kissed you again, trailing the kisses down your jaw, neck, and cleavage.

“I need these off, now,” he ordered huskily, pulling you up to your knees. He helped you with your bra, throwing it across the dorm. His hands trailed down your sides, leaving a searing mark on your skin. He kissed all the way down your torso until his nose was nestled over the sweet spot, resting above your panties.

You let out a nervous, aroused laugh, making Loki react. He smirked before reaching up and throwing you onto your back, before removing your panties.

He followed this by diving down between your legs, his tongue working quickly over you, making you gasp and cry out, your hand flying to his hair.

“Holy shit, Loki,” you panted.

He laughed but kept up the attack on you.

What followed was Loki practically worshipping you as he paid attention to every detail of your body. You returned the favor as best you could, your hands and mouth working over his pale, toned physique.

By the early morning, after round three, the two of you were utterly spent. When you were done, you both laughed as you grabbed water from your mini fridge for both of you.

Without a word, you two settled down in the bed and you felt happy. Finally, you were moving on from Bucky, and you weren't thinking about Stephen.

So maybe Loki wasn't the most practical or business driven. But he was kind, funny, gave you the time of day, and you had a lot of similar interests.

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

Early the next morning, you woke up, long before your alarm went off, around 5 am, it was still relatively dark out. You smiled, hoping to roll over and greet Loki, but when you turned, he was nowhere to be found. His clothes weren’t there, and there was no note, his side ice cold.

You frowned. Maybe he just went to the bathroom. Or maybe he was out getting coffee.

Rolling to grab your phone, checking for messages, you found one from Loki.

“Thanks, now do me a favor and lose my number.”

For what seemed like eons, you stared at the text, reading it over, and over, and over again. This couldn’t be right. This just… This had to be a joke that you two would laugh about. Loki would come back, stating it was a joke.

You didn’t do this. You didn’t do things like this. You weren’t a one-night stand kind of person. You’d only been with Bucky, and the only reason you were okay with friends with benefits with him was because at one time, you’d been in love with him. You thought you were falling for Loki, that’s why you did this. That’s why you gave yourself to him completely.

But now… Now he just used you for a piece of ass? All that sweet talk and complimenting and the flowers was all just to get in your pants? You felt so cheap.

How had you been so blind and stupid? You knew Loki was a player, that’s why he was flirtatious but you just thought maybe he was interested in you.

Guess not, though.

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

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#stan lee university #loki x reader #loki fic #stephen strange #clint barton #natasha romanoff

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