#i hope we get the one piece party high school au route of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetheartjeongguk · 6 years

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twitchy witchy girl

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: kiki’s delivery service au, fluff, minor angst

rating: pg

warning(s): oc is mean to jimin but makes up for it in the end, slight public humiliation

word count: 3.3k+

summary: maybe human boys aren’t so bad after all.

a/n: here’s a late birthday gift to the loml park jimin

masterlist | studio ghibli masterlist

“He’s here to see you again.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Honey, stop slamming your head against the counter. You’re going to give yourself a concussion.”

“Sounds like a fun way to go.”

“He’s been waiting outside for quite some time.” The older woman hums, one hand on her pregnant belly and the other resting on top of your shoulder.

When you first arrived in the new beachside town, you had high hopes of being incredibly popular and staying in a fabulous mansion where you practically drown in luxury. Instead, you’re stuck living in a one-room apartment with your cat familiar, Mochi, and working for Lee Eunji and her husband as their very first delivery witch.

While most of the townspeople saw witches as nothing but troublemakers, Eunji saw a new opportunity.

“Tell him I’m dead.” You rub at your forehead once the throbbing became too much.

“He said he’d buy a Ouija board.”

“Tell him I moved away.”

“He can literally see you.” Eunji scoffs, waving a hand towards the front of the store.

With a disgruntled huff, you lift your head to follow Eunji’s line of sight.

Park Jimin stands with his hands tucked in his front pockets and an exasperated look on his face. He paces in front of the doorway, muttering something to himself while glancing into the store from the corner of his eye. When he notices your staring, he skids to a stop.

To this day, you have no clue why he’s interested in you. Sure, you’re a witch who can do all types of magic and fly on a broomstick which is enough to entertain the grumpiest of fiends. But one thing’s for sure – you and Park Jimin are two different people heading down two different paths. He’s the stereotypical rich boy who’s loved and admired by all simply for breathing air. Meanwhile, you’re the scary girl who can’t hold a decent conversation with another person without them sputtering something about magic and witchcraft.

“See?” Eunji chuckles at your obvious discomfort. “Can’t back out of this one, bud. Just go see what he wants.”

“Do you think you can bail me out of jail after I charm him into a cockroach and squish him with my foot?” You lean your cheek against the crook of your elbow in thought.

“How about…” Eunji brushes back the strands of hair that fall across your face. “…you not resort to murder and just talk to him like a normal human being?”

“You’re just saying that because you think he’s pretty. He’s cast a spell on you too.” You roll your eyes as Eunji motions for Jimin to come inside.

“You’re the only witch here, sweetheart.” Eunji winks before going to check on the freshly baked loaves of bread resting in the kitchen.

Jimin glows brighter than usual, his swept-back blond hair hidden underneath a red beret that makes him look like a stereotypical French boy. You snort to yourself when you take in the rest of his outfit – black-and-white striped shirt tucked into slim-fitting slacks with sleek black dress shoes.

Talk about Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.

“Why, hello there, Mr. Park! What can we do for you today?” Eunji peeps her head through the kitchen doorway.

“Hi, Mrs. Lee.” Jimin replies smoothly, hands crossed behind his back in an innocent manner. “I was wondering if I could grab Y/N for a second.”

You could barely hold back your disgust when you notice Eunji melting under Jimin’s sweet façade. He has virtually everyone in town wrapped around his stupid chubby pinky finger, and you refuse to let yourself fall for one of his tricks.

“Y/N’s not here right now.” You grit your teeth. “Please leave a message after the fuc—"

“Y/N! Be nice.”

You push off of the stool you were sitting in behind the counter with a grunt. Your muscles are still sore from your delivery yesterday. Thankfully, there aren’t any major deliveries that afternoon so you’re free to stuff your face with as many as chocolate pastries as your heart desires.

Jimin draws in a small breath as you approach, mentally preparing his little speech he wrote on his way to the bakery that afternoon. He starts to open his mouth but only lets out a pathetic squeak as you roughly brush past him on your way to the pastry tray on the other side of the room.

“Y/N!” Eunji scolds before turning to Jimin with an apologetic pout. “I’m so sorry about her, she’s still trying to get used to everything.”

“Oh no, I understand!” Jimin chuckles awkwardly, a hand reaching behind to rub the back of his neck. “Anyways…Y/N, there’s s-something I wanted to ask you.”

You hum absentmindedly as you stuff a large creampuff into your mouth. You wonder if you could cast a spell to speed up his spiel so that you’ll still have time to catch the new episode of your favorite television show that’s scheduled to air in a half hour.

“My aviation club at school is hosting a party this Saturday.” Jimin announces, his voice wavering from subtle nerves. “I was wondering if you would like to come.”

You silently scold your heart for thumping a little harder than usual. Attending a party with Jimin as his…date. The word should have sent a disgusted shiver down your spine, but all you get is a flood of butterflies in your stomach.

For some reason, the thought of Jimin in a tuxedo didn’t seem so bad.

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Eunji claps her hands excitedly. “It’ll be a great chance for you to make some friends, Y/N!”

“Oh yeah, definitely!” Jimin blurts out. “The rest of the guys are just dying to meet a witch. They’re really curious to learn more about how your broom works!”

Just like that, the mood dies. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t just die. It comes barreling towards the earth in a frenzy of fire and heat, striking the ground with tremendous force and destroying everything in its path.

He didn’t want you to go with him – he just wants to show you off like some circus act to his friends.

In that moment, you’re reminded of why you didn’t trust him. He might have Eunji and everyone else fooled, but you know better. Park Jimin’s just like everyone else, and you curse yourself for nearly falling into his trap.

Eunji watches inquisitively as you make your way towards the boy holding the invitation in both hands. There’s a tight grin that stretches across your face in a Cheshire Cat-like manner. The sight is quite unsettling to Eunji, but Jimin still beams at you as if he’s found the answers to his prayers.

“An invitation just for me?” You grab the invitation, ignoring the pleasant sensation of his soft skin brushing against yours.

“Yup! I saved one just for you.” Jimin nods excitedly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes! We’re really interested in learn—”

Rrrrip.

Jimin’s smile breaks as you tear the card in half. You barely hear Eunji gasping in the background as you shred the invitation into several jagged pieces. With a snap of your fingers, the slivers of paper burst into flames and float pathetically to the linoleum floor in a burnt crisp.

In an instant, your crazed smile transforms into a disgusted scowl. “Thanks for the invite, but I’d prefer company with people who don’t use me as their personal flying monkey.”

“Y/N!” Eunji hisses sharply.

You ignore her. “I know you think that you’re being cute and funny, but honestly, you’re just annoying and pathetic.”

Jimin stands frozen in the middle of the bakery, his bleary eyes fixated on the burnt strips scattered across the floor. Eunji rushes over from the kitchen to collect the mess with a broom and dustpan, glancing up when she notices your figure escape through the backdoor towards your living quarters.

“Jimin, I am so sorry about her.” Eunji sighs in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

Jimin nods stiffly. “It’s n-no problem. I understand…”

Eunji opens her mouth at another attempt of a worthless apology, but Jimin’s already turning on his heel and heading out of the door, the tiniest sniffle betraying his quiet composure. Eunji watches in pity as Jimin disappears down the street with his shoulders slumped forward and his hands tucked into his front pockets once more.

He’s lucky that his route continues straight down the road. That way, Eunji doesn’t notice the tears dribbling down his cheeks reddened from embarrassment.

Ever since you burned his invitation in his face, Eunji hasn’t spoken to you. After you escaped the bakery and hid in your room to watch tv with Mochi, she barged in with the pile of ashes in her hands. She promptly tosses the charred papers on top of your nightstand, turning on her heel with a repulsed sneer.

“I’m disappointed in you. Honestly.”

Whether you like it or not, your chest twinges with guilt. Apart from being like a second mother to you, Eunji’s your best friend. When you faced the threat of living out on the streets with no food or money, she was the one who took you under her wing and offered you not only a job but a place to sleep and eat.

Now, it’s as if the sight of you makes her sick to her stomach. This time, you couldn’t even blame Park Jimin for it.

“If he just left me alone like I told him millions of times before, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“That may be,” Mochi purrs. “But you did embarrass him by burning his invitation in his face. The very same invitation he had kept specifically for you and only you.”

“So?” You grumble. “He only invited me because he wanted me to entertain his dumb friends.”

The gentle evening breeze soars in through your open window, chilling you to the bone. You slightly curse at yourself for not dressing in warmer pajamas, but your earnings for the month wouldn’t give you much. You’d borrow from Eunji, but 1) most of her wardrobe right now are maternity clothes and 2) she currently refuses to speak with you.

You let out a long whine, sounding exactly like your five-year-old self who cried when a wave toppled her over during a family vacation to the beach. “Do I have to?”

Mochi stares at you without a word.

“What if I fake my death?”

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine…but if he doesn’t accept my apology, then can I fake my death?”

You feel silly.

Dressed in a white dress that molds tightly against your waist and puffs out at the skirt, you look and feel like a creampuff. After begging for her forgiveness for two hours straight, Eunji goes to work on preparing your party outfit. You pout about the centimeter-thick layer of foundation and powder, but Eunji shrugs off your complaints with an uncaring smirk. Perhaps it’s your punishment for not listening to her in the first place.

“It’s itchy.” You whine as the lace fabric continues to scratch against your skin.

Eunji holds in her laughter as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “If only you focused on your special magic training and not on hurting the feelings of people who like you, you could have learned how to cast an anti-itching spell.”

“Spells are hard…” You pout. “And he doesn’t like me, he just wants to pretend to get to know me so that he can tell people that he knows a witch. It’s exploitation at its finest.”

Eunji shakes her head in disbelief. “I’d think you witches would have some type of clairvoyance about you, but you’re completely dense.”

“I’m not a psychic.” You roll your eyes. “I’m starting to think that no one in this town cares enough to educate themselves on witch culture.”

“Well, if you weren’t such a grumpy old troll, then maybe you could educate those people about witches.” Eunji pokes your nose with the end of a concealer brush as she finishes up the last touch-ups to your makeup.

“I shouldn’t have to.” You try to cross your arms, but you find it almost impossible considering how tight the chest of the dress was. “For once, I want someone to learn for themselves for once instead of using me for laughs and giggles.”

Eunji sighs in defeat. While the makeup and fancy dress did wonders to brighten your usual gloomy appearance, the frown marring your brow seems to remain there permanently.

“Honey…” Eunji says quietly. “I might not be a witch, but I know a thing or two about love. That boy definitely likes you for you, not because he wants to cross ‘Meet a witch’ off his bucket list.”

You continue to fiddle with the lace of the skirt, nearly ripping out a stray thread before laying your palms flat in your lap.

“I’ve never seen a boy so adamant about visiting a girl everyday even if he can just get one sentence in.” Eunji laughs softly. “Reminds me of my husband when we were first dating. He wouldn’t let me go for one second.”

You try to laugh, but you end up looking like you swallowed something inedible.

“I’m not saying that you need to date him or anything.” Eunji shakes her head. “I’m just saying that you should give Jimin a chance. You’d do good with some friends in this town, even if it’s just him.”

With that, Eunji holds out a clenched fist. You’re quick to grab whatever’s in her hands, but you instantly blanch when the substance fills your palms. While most of the invitation’s burnt to a crisp, one part of the paper remains semi-readable.

“Ms. Witch…”

A couple days ago, you’d be rolling your eyes and threatening to shove your broomstick where the sun won’t shine if Jimin had called you by that nickname. Now, all you could feel is a delightful warmth that spreads from your face down to your toes.

You’re screwed. You’re definitely screwed.

“You might want to head off now!” Eunji yells. You lift your head in surprise when you notice that she’s already escaped into the kitchen. “It looks like it’s going to rain! Better not be late!”

Desperately shoving the remnants of the invitation into your bra, you barely spare a coherent farewell as you dash into the street and kicking off the ground with your broomstick between your legs. As you head southwest towards the party, you force several deep breaths as you settle the anxiety that plagues your veins and kickstarts your heart into overdrive.

“This better work.” You whisper to yourself, ignoring the tiny droplets of water that begin to fall from the cluster of clouds above.

Your jaw drops at the vast size of the house. Classical music plays on repeat as the guests mingle around the dining room that looks as though it could fit an entire country and a half inside. You observe from the outside, completely unbothered as the rain soaks through your clothes and streaks your makeup. While you take a moment to admire the decorations strung across the walls and on the ceiling, your eyes wander in search of one individual in particular.

“Excuse me.” Someone coughs.

Behind you, a boy watches you with a dirty look, almost as if he wishes to say, “You obviously look like you don’t belong here”. While he isn’t far from the truth, you couldn’t help but mirror his unimpressed glare.

“I’m sorry, but this party is reserved for members only.” He retorts snootily. “I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Jokes on you, asshole, I have an invitation…” You answer quickly.

“Is that so?” He asks with a pretentious scoff. “Where is it?”

You choke on your words. You almost forgot that the evidence is literally shoved inside your cleavage. “U-Um…well the thing is…”

“Y/N?”

You, along with Mr. Stick-Stuck-High-Up-In-My-Ass, turn towards the new visitor. Your heart prickles with something foreign at the sight of Park Jimin in a suit and tie and a cute flower tucked inside his pocket.

“Hi…” You reply meekly, eyes fixated on the growing puddle on the edge of the sidewalk.

You completely miss the elated glint in Jimin’s eyes.

“She’s your guest, Park?” The boy asks warily, still viewing you as some kind of creature who escaped from the Black Lagoon.

You’ll be sure to add a little something extra to his hors d’oeuvres when you get the chance.

“Yeah, she’s my plus-one.” Jimin answers confidently. “I didn’t get to give her the invitation, but her name’s on the list if you want to check.”

The boy watches Jimin carefully before rolling his eyes. “I’ll be sure to check the list. Be sure that next time, everyone has an invite before they just show up unannounced and unwanted.”

Oh, how you wish you could use your magic for bad just once. Sure, you might face lifelong consequences that could inevitably affect your future…but would one time really make a difference?

“Sorry about him.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “Jihyun can be pretty uptight sometimes…”

“I can handle uptight just fine.” You shrug awkwardly. “T-Thanks though.”

Jimin clears his throat. “Yeah, of course! Anytime…”

There’s a brief moment of silence that you wish you could break without looking like a complete fool. Thankfully, Jimin takes the initiative from you.

“Y-You look really pretty.”

Thankfully, the foundation that Eunji caked onto your cheeks covers any sign of redness. Unfortunately, it did make you look like you took a dip into a giant frosting container.

“Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You force yourself to playfully nudge at his shoulder. “You clean up rather nicely.”

“T-Thanks, my mom picked it out.” Jimin immediately clamps his mouth shut. You smile at the obvious embarrassment that floods his features and purses his lips into a demure pout.

It’s cute. In fact, it’s the type of cute that makes you want to drop everything and bring him back home to introduce to your entire family.

If only Eunji were here, she’d be getting a kick out of your emotional turmoil.

“Uh, a-anyways,” Jimin stammers nervously. “Why did you come tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, making Jimin quickly backpedal on his words.

“N-Not that you’re not allowed to come! You’re totally allowed to come, it’s totally fine by me. I j-just thought you didn’t want to…you know, after you…burned the invitation to a crisp.”

“Oh yeah! That reminds me…”

Jimin pales as you dig inside to collect the blackened scraps, your tongue poking through the side of your mouth in concentration. He quickly diverts his attention towards the large oak tree hanging overhead, trying hard not to think about how your breasts are half a foot away from his face.

“There we are!”

Hesitantly craning his neck towards you once more, Jimin meets your upturned hands that cradle the destroyed scraps of the invitation. He cocks an eyebrow at this – what’s he supposed to do with that?

Jimin swallows his retort when suddenly, the papers swirl around almost like in a mini tornado, fusing back together. With a poof, the paper transforms from a charcoal black to its original eggshell white, complete with the original detailing and “Dear Ms. Witch…” at the very top of the card. As a special treat, you add an extra touch that Jimin can’t help but crack a smile at.

There’s a crude stick figure drawing of the two of you sitting side-by-side with a tiny pink heart floating above your heads. It may have been a trick of the light, but Jimin could swear that your little stick figure presses a kiss to stick figure Jimin’s cheek.

“Ta-da…” You smile shyly as you slip the paper into Jimin’s hand. “It’s corny, I know, but…”

“W-What changed your mind?” Jimin asks bashfully as he presses the card to his chest.

You shrug teasingly. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were. Also, it helps that you’re a little cute.”

“And the truth?”

“Eunji threatened to steal my broomstick and sell it in next week’s yard sale if I didn’t show up.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

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probably-writing-x · 5 years

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High Society (Chapter 6)

~A Tom Holland AU Series~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @sleepwalkingdragon @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee

Warnings: Mentions of murder, drug use and money troubles, language warning, suggestions of a manipulative relationship.

Inspiration: It's interesting to see how the other half live, how their perfect lives are pieced together by secret scandals. It's beyond anything you can imagine until you're a part of it. It's High Society. (Based on the Netflix series 'Elite')

Notes: Thanks to @oneblckcoffee, there's going to be a bigger emphasis on the supporting characters in this story! Starting now with Harrison! Let me know what you think x

~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~

"Imogen wanted to be exactly like everyone else in that school. She wanted popularity. But she felt like she was constantly in Lily's shadow. So, she was willing to go to great extents to stop that. And that was one of the worst decisions she made,"

~~~Saturday 20th October 2018~~~

You'd somehow found yourself at another event tonight. This wasn't in the setting of Harrison's house, it was instead a fancy event that you were now attending. Tom had asked you to go with him - he hadn't used the word date but his intentions were clear. It was some sort of charity night hosted by Imogen's mum and so all of your class were in attendance.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You turn around to recognise the familiar voices of Noah and Zendaya. They had turned up together but made it clear to everyone it was simply as friends.

"Hey," You smile, hands still brushing down the material of your dress that already made you feel ridiculously uncomfortable. This wasn't like you and you still couldn't find Tom, "Have you guys seen Tom anywhere?"

"I saw him when he first came in, I think he went that way," Noah comments, directing you to a point away from the crowds.

The party was being hosted at a large ballroom and it was already starting to fill with alcohol influenced bodies. You directed yourself away from it all in the hopes of finding your company for the evening.

As you got closer, the distinctive sound of raised voices became clear. Tom. Harrison.

"Harrison, listen to me! We're going to fix this," Tom's voice sounded full of a certainty you couldn't mistake. Should you really be listening to this?

"Tom this isn't just a small thing anymore. My dad is losing everything!" Harrison exclaims, "And I'm sat here at some pathetic party whilst my family could be going bankrupt!"

You start walking away then because you fear you've already heard too much. But then there's the sound of a door opening.

"(Y/N)," Tom begins, standing in the doorframe as Harrison storms out and straight past you, "Sorry I didn't meet you,"

"No, that's okay," You shake your head.

"You," He stops and breaks into a smile through his stress, "You look beautiful,"

You look down at your feet and force yourself to hide the blush that grew on your cheeks.

"Can you come here a minute?" He asks and his bashful request warms your worry slightly.

You follow him into the room where he had previously been with Haz. It is a quiet sitting area with a large window door exposing a balcony behind.

Tom leads you through the room and the two of you stand on the balcony without anything spoken. For a long moment, the only noise is the sound of necessary chatter in the party and the juxtaposing breeze that kissed the nature in your sights.

"So Harrison is having some problems," Tom admits, leaning forward slightly as his hands rest on the concrete boundary of the balcony, "His dad lost a lot of money. One of his clients found out that he's been dealing. And they've cut all ties with the company,"

"What happens from here?" You frown, subconsciously stepping a little closer to him. Maybe it was the cool air that meant you desired his warmth, or maybe it was the sadness behind his chocolate eyes that made him need yours.

"I really don't know. Last time his dad had anything bad happen, he turned to drugs and he left home. They didn't hear from him for weeks," Tom sighs, "God, I don't want to see Harrison go through that again," The pain in his eyes seems to wrench at your heart and weaken every part of you that could resist him.

Your words fail you as you simply go over to him and place your hand over his. It is a worthless gesture, one that could have been done by anybody. But the feeling of comfort was one beyond normal worth to him.

"He's like a brother to me, you know?" He shrugs, "Anything he goes through, I've probably been through the same. And there's always a way we can fix it. Not this time, he could lose everything, (Y/n)."

You realise now that it was better for you not to speak. Staying silent meant he could let it all out. Something he rarely got to do in his life.

"When my dad... When he first..." Tom stops because admitting anything about the abusive nature of his father brought a feeling to him that he couldn't fathom, "I remember going to Harrison's and we just played football. He didn't ask anything, and it felt like it solved part of it. But I think we're past that point now. He might lose everything,"

It is the repetition of his previous words that encourages you to speak this time, certain that you couldn't watch him downgrade his worth like that.

"No," You say quickly, far too instinctively, "He's not losing everything. He's always got you, even if you feel helpless,"

~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~

"I was losing it all," Harrison shakes his head, "My family were going through hell and all Imogen cared about was making it a route for her own benefit. She thought that helping me out would make me fall right into her arms,"

"You seem to hold a lot of anger over this?" That flick of the woman's eyebrow had become overly irritating and Harrison was letting it out in the clench of his fists.

"She was willing to destroy me, my family, everything. If I didn't do what she wanted, I would have been out of that school, out of everything," He clenches his jaw and his whole body is completely tense.

"And would you have wanted revenge for all of that?"

~~~Thursday 1st November 2018~~~

The past weeks had been a whirlwind at this school. You and Tom had been secretly inseparable. You met up whenever possible but avoided each other in front of prying eyes. But the real issues lay with Harrison. In the dramatic events of her mother's party, Imogen had discovered Harrison's family troubles and had begun to 'help' him. She was willing to pay off debts that his father now owed and even offered that Harrison stay with her until everything had calmed down at home. Something about it seemed off to Tom.

"I don't know, I just think she's trying to help," You sigh, relaxing into the feeling of his hand tracing the crosshatch stretch marks on your thighs.

"She's got an ulterior motive," He comments, shuffling as though he was trying to close any extra space between you.

The two of you had spent your class in the gym and, after your showers, you eventually ended up in the boxing ring, as always. However, your tame sparring sessions had now resulted to intimate moments like these. You were sat between Tom's legs with your back flush against his chest as he leant back on his elbows.

"It seems like it's actually helping Haz," You point out, "He hasn't fallen asleep in class for the past couple of days, I actually saw him eating something at lunch yesterday and he's been turning up to all of his lessons. That has to count for something,"

"I just don't want her to manipulate him or something," He mutters, clearly bashful about his protective nature over his best friend.

You turn your head so that you can see his face from the corner of your eye, "Then we can keep an eye out, but don't get too caught up in it,"

He hums in response and nuzzles his head into your neck, forcing a little laugh out of your lips.

"We should be getting back to class," You comment, using all your energy to push yourself away from his torso.

He lets out a groan and flops back against the floor of the ring, "So I can have Lily sticking around like a bad rash?" He smirks, "I'd rather stay here,"

You hold out your hands and pull him up, going to step out of the ring. It is then that you hear the sound of someone coming into the gym. Two people. Their voices are recognisable: Imogen and Harrison.

Tom presses a finger to your lips and tugs you to the ground with him so that you're completely out of sight from the pair.

"Oh come on, my mum wants to introduce you to everybody!" Imogen chirps, hurrying after Haz as he directed his path to the treadmill, "She wants everyone to meet my new boyfriend,"

"Imogen, we never said we were official. What happened to taking things slow?" Harrison's voice sounds fatigued, it echoes in his sunken eyes and the dishevelled nature of his golden locks.

"Harrison, honey," You watch intently as Imogen walks over and tugs gently on the towel that Haz had hooked around his neck, "Remember what I said?"

She pouts and you watch his head roll back, a deep sigh evident in the rise of his chest.

"I'm helping you out, aren't I? You'd be in deep trouble without me," The manipulation soaks every syllable without missing a beat, "So, you're going to get dressed up in your finest suit and we're going to go to my mother's event... As a couple,"

Tom's eyes aren't focused on yours anymore. He's now looking down at the floor with his hand still gripping yours. He was right.

"Hey," You whisper, certain your words were only audible to him, "We can help him, we will help him,"

It is as though your words pass right through him. He doesn't know how to respond because the thoughts rushing his head made speaking too difficult. Imogen was using him. She was using her money to hold a power over Harrison and threaten his livelihood if he even tried to question her actions or decisions.

The swinging of the door opening is recognisable with the fact that Imogen has now left and the sound of the irritated yell that Harrison releases gives you a certain point to be seen.

"Haz," Tom calls, running over to where his best friend was hunched over the treadmill, clearly burdened by the weight of everything at the moment, "You can't let her treat you like this!"

"Well what else do you want me to do?" You can tell that H wanted to yell the words but his emotion washes them with a weakness, evident in the way the words crack, "My parents might be getting a divorce. My Dad has more debts than he originally told us about, and now the only thing I can do to cope with any part of that is to pretend I'm in a stupid relationship with Imogen,"

~~~Wednesday 30th January 2019~~~

"One of the good ones, are you still sure about that statement?" She raises her brows, now leaning back against the slightly flexible plastic of the uncomfortable chair.

"Imogen did bad things. But I can't hate her," You shake your head, "I couldn't. A lot of people in that school had reason to hate her, but, whatever I thought, I couldn't be one of them,"

~~~Wednesday 7th November 2018~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Noah's voice echoes in the quiet classroom, his paper slamming back down onto the table, "How did I fail another test?"

"Noah, please calm down," Mr Fitz sighs, making his way back to the front of the class, "Nobody's scores are changing, please just accept your marks and try to do better next time,"

"It's this stupid way you have of marking everything," Noah grumbles, slumping back in his seat.

"Well, the projects you will he handing in before Christmas will be marked completely differently. So, all of you can focus on that," Your teacher assures, sitting back against his metal desk.

"About that, Mr Fitz," Imogen's voice had become the new Lily in class, you dreaded its presence for fear of what it could bring, "Can we talk about more than one other person from the class?"

Heads snap round to her. This whole thing was about exposure, and she now had something she was willing to expose about more than one of you?

"You can interpret it any way you'd like, Imogen," He waves her off, too busy looking at the laptop in front of him.

"Mr Fitz?" Lily's voice rings in tired ears.

Your teacher's head snaps up and he is quick to go and help her as much as he can. It makes you smirk internally. The beauty of favoritism, the art of powerful teens managing to wind a teacher around their finger so much that it was evident to everyone.

When the teacher returned to the seclusion of his own desk, Lily turned in her chair to face Imogen.

"Come on, sweetie, stop trying to hard," She rolls her eyes, "It will come back to bite you in the ass one day,"

You and Tom exchange a look across the class. He's still sat next to her and you can see how his shoulders tense whenever she gets a little too close. You watch as he slowly shuffles his chair away whenever hers inches towards him. It gives you a slight comfort you didn't realise that it would.

"Are you going to say something Harrison?" Imogen tries to whisper the but it echoes on awaiting walls.

Harrison looks up and you're certain you've never seen anyone look so defeated, so fed up with a person, "Lily, are you really one to talk?"

The cock of her brows tells him his answer.

"You act all high and mighty but you've got Tom next to you who would rather spend every day beside (Y/N) than spend another minute with you!" As soon as his words are spoken, he regrets them. You can tell by his quick gazes towards you and to Tom. Guilty.

The silence in the classroom was screaming to be replaced. But there was nothing.

Until Lily's chair scraped harshly at the tiled floor and she rose, "Excuse me," she flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and strode out of there like nobody else was watching. In fact, nobody actually was. Everyone had opted to stare down at the papers in front of them and wait for the moment when tensions would lessen.

In the moment of blaring silence, you thought back to only a couple of months earlier. When all of this was utterly deranged to you, they seemed like they were living in another world. And now, you were a part of it. You had become the secret affair of the school King. You'd become laced in Harrison's family stresses and, now, the certain enemy of the school Bitch. You were one of them. No matter how much you denied it to your Dads, it was true. They couldn't pull you out because you were too far in. But, none of the other kids mattered to them. Just Imogen. Why was she the problem?

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porchwood · 5 years

Text

Fic Bits 2018: The One That Got Away

Modern AU; Madge POV. Jude/Madge, Gale/Madge.

They say you can never go home again, and yet here I am, packing to do just that.

The second autumn after you graduate from college is when the niggling feeling starts, like you left town without returning your library books or forgot to put the new insurance card in your glove compartment. When the first one comes around, you’re elated that you don’t have to think – let alone worry – about registering for classes, mapping your daily routes across campus, or buying school supplies of any kind, but by the second you’re starting to feel like something’s wrong. It’s easy to understand why so many people fall into teaching. Your body gets set on that routine, so that going back to school in fall is as instinctual to humans as seasonal migrations are to birds.

Ironically, it was the school year that determined this move – or rather, the school year that necessitated it, though the fall semester is already several weeks underway. Beginning in January, Dad will be teaching again for the first time since I was in elementary school – and, doubt it not, loving every minute of it.

At twenty-three my life could and probably should be independent of my parents’, but no matter which way I turned the situation around in my mind, there was no truly good reason not to move back with them. As badly as I don’t want to go back to the small town where I grew up, there’s nothing substantial enough to keep me here if my parents are gone.

We’ve always been thick as thieves and, oddly, moreso since moving to the capital city. The fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue that kept my mother to a quiet routine in our hometown made her a veritable recluse amidst the constant bustle of squealing brakes and blaring horns, and everything was so blindingly expensive, we rarely partook of the concerts and boutiques and exotic restaurants that had sounded so exciting from our living room back home.

Moving here as a family had been the result of two somewhat predictable stars aligning perfectly: after twelve years as mayor, Dad was elected to the state legislature and I was accepted into the music program at a small private college, a short bus ride from the capitol building. My parents rented a spacious loft halfway in-between the two, which enabled me to keep tabs on my mother while enjoying the independence of living off-campus all through school, while our place back home was loaned out to visiting professors and the like – short-term rentals to keep the utilities running and keep an eye out for any maintenance issues that might arise. I’m told I missed out on the “full college experience” by not living in a dorm, but from all accounts, it’s a party I’m glad to have skipped.

For all intents and purposes, home has been 37 Ash Terrace for the past five years. Four-and-a-half hours isn’t the longest drive, but there was always one reason or another to stay here through the holidays – which is not to say we’ve never gone back, of course. Our family revisits can be counted on two hands, but I’ve made a few extra trips on my own for special occasions, the last of which – the baptism of Katniss’s son Janni – was more than two years ago now.

I look up at my bulletin board, now stripped of everything but the central photo, and have just tugged out the tack when my phone rings. It’s a local cell number – local to our hometown, not to here – but doesn’t pull up a contact, and I cross the first two fingers of my free hand, hoping one of my cover letters has snared an interview as I answer, “Hello?”

“Is this Madeline Undersee?” asks a young male voice.

That was one of the best things about moving away, and one that I’m particularly loath to leave behind: finally getting to be Madeline, not Madge. That a young professional back home is addressing me as such, however, gives me hope.

“It is,” I affirm, and there’s a brief, quickly stifled sound from the other end before the caller goes on, “I was wondering if you might be available to play a wedding in November.”

The pieces snap together in my mind. It’s probably a local boy who went to college in the capitol like myself – it’s a common enough path – and found himself a fiancée, though it is a trifle odd for the groom to call ‘round for an accompanist.

“I’m sorry; I’m actually moving out of the area this weekend,” I reply, “but I can refer you to several other musicians who would be excellent choices.”

“I’m afraid it really has to be you,” he says with what sounds far more like mischief than regret. “What about a wedding in your hometown? Would that be a little easier to manage?”

“In –?” I break off, mind whipping through the possibilities. It’s hardly a secret that the Undersees are moving back after five years in the big city, but we’ve kept radio silence on my own return except where potential employers are concerned, so there’s no way some random local groom could even know about me, let alone want to hire me for his wedding. “Who is this?” I demand more than ask, a shy fifteen-year-old bookworm all over again, bristling in anticipation of the prank.

“You really don't know?” the young man responds, sounding genuinely surprised, and for a half-second my heart skips in hope, never mind that his voice bears no resemblance whatsoever to Gale’s rough, smoky timbre. “I’m wounded, mädchen,” he laments, and my heart trips halfway through its skip and somersaults clumsily forward to faceplant onto the concrete below.

“Jude?” I squeak.

“You haven’t forgotten me entirely, then?” he teases.

“Don’t be daft,” I retort, my stunned heart now flailing in shock. “So…you’re getting married?” I almost ask if it’s Columbine but that crush is surely ancient history now, never mind that last I heard, she was headed to some fashion design or modeling program out east.

“Don’t be daft,” he throws back with characteristic self-deprecation, but the affection beneath it wraps about me like a blanket – or one of Jude’s incredible lingering hugs. “But I do need a wedding accompanist,” he goes on, “which as I said, really has to be you, but I want to tell you about it in person. When are you back?”

“Well – tomorrow,” I reply, and the whole thing suddenly feels surreal. “Well, the day after, really,” I clarify. “Tomorrow’s the drive up and the U-Haul unload. Mom and Dad hired movers but you still want to go through everything, you know?”

“Of course,” he assures me. “Want to meet at Primavera for Saturday lunch – say, 11:30? My treat.”

“Primavera?” I puzzle. There’s never been an Italian restaurant in our hometown – it’s too small and rural to sustain any such – but the nearby city has a few shopping malls and a much wider selection of eateries; it makes sense that Jude would want to go to one of them. “What – where is that?” I ask.

He gives a little choke of laughter in reply. “Have you really been away so long, mädchen?” he wonders, but something about my ignorance seems to amuse – even delight – him. “It’s Italian – awesome Italian – right next to Mellarks’.”

“There’s nothing next to Mellarks’,” I counter, because our tiny historic downtown has never been able to keep shops for long, not with countless department stores and discount stores not twenty miles off. “Unless…are we having a sidewalk picnic, Judah?” I venture, almost hopefully, and he laughs.

“If the first date goes well, we can do whatever you want on the second,” he replies, and I miss him so much that I snatch up a pillow with my free hand and hug it to my chest as hard as I can. “But I promise: there is a legit Italian restaurant next to Mellarks’,” he says. “I’m going to buy you lunch there on Saturday, and you’re going to love it so much that you’ll refuse to live out of takeout range ever again.”

“Color me intrigued,” I tease. “As much about your mysterious wedding as this new eatery.”

“They’re both worth the wait,” he promises, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“I missed you,” I blurt and Jude falls suddenly, uncharacteristically silent. There are any number of well-deserved retorts he could hand me, ranging from You didn’t have to to I didn’t go anywhere, but Jude is the sweetest boy I’ve ever known – on a level with Peeta, really – and even in our most frustrated moments, he never addressed me half as harshly as Gale would on a good day.

I think I hurt him a long time ago, though he’s never said as much.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, and the corners of my eyes prickle hotly.

I don’t want to go home – you can never go home again, everyone says as much – don’t want to explain why I have a music degree from a respectable college and am looking for any old day job in my hometown and living with my parents. I don’t want to see Gale Hawthorne – never mind how wildly I do want to see him – to face all the inevitable jibes about how I “couldn’t make it in the real world.”

But if Jude – sweet, funny, precious Jude – is coming back into my life, it just might be bearable. He’ll have a job and new friends now – a girlfriend, to be sure – and he may not even live in town any longer. But we can grab lunches together here and there and laugh about stuff that happened in high school. Maybe we’ll find new things to laugh about.

“See you Saturday?” I say.

“I’ll be the one with the red ribbon,” he replies.

As always, I’m the one who hangs up.

Jude always let me end our calls, always hanging on in case of one last thought or lament, one more drawn-out Night-night or See you tomorrow.

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I remember the incredibly idiotic reason Jude isn’t saved as a contact anymore and sit on my stripped mattress, both arms curled around the pillow and my chin resting on its edge. It was stupid and childish – and ultimately pointless, because he didn’t try to get in touch at all after that. Oh, he did the usual friendly Facebook stuff – comments on my posts and the like – because Jude is that kind of sweet, but he’d never do anything to make me uncomfortable.

And also, maybe, he was hurt.

It’s not as if I shut him out – there were no calls or texts or emails to ignore – and you could hardly call my across-the-state move for college “avoidance,” but it certainly aided me to that end, especially five summers ago.

I bite my lips together for a long moment, silently call myself an idiot, and save the number as a new contact: Judah Tolliver. Neat, professional, and objective, like a grown-up. After all, if he’s hiring me for a wedding we’ll be exchanging calls and texts over the next few months; there’s no reason not to add him to my phone.

Returning to my call history, I dial Rue, the high school friend I’ve stayed closest to by virtue of us attending the same college. Our courses of study and career veered apart over the past few years as Rue set aside music to pursue dance full-bore and is currently spending her days with a traveling company that does famous ballets in a pared-down, intimate contemporary style, with dreamlike costumes that I suspect her father has a hand in, but we’ve stubbornly kept in touch all this while, meeting for a meal and a chat whenever her schedule allows.

She’s halfway across the country dancing Swanilda in Coppélia this season, so our farewell supper took place about two weeks ago. I don’t expect her to answer and am beyond surprised when she does.

“Hey chickie-babe!” she cries. “Are you home? I’ve only got a minute but I want to hear all about it. How did your house hold up?”

“We haven’t left yet,” I tell her. “We’re loading the U-Haul tonight and driving back tomorrow.”

“So where’s the fire?” she teases. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you to bits, but why call now? Are you getting sad about leaving – or going back?”

Rue understands my misgivings, even if she doesn’t share them. After I told my parents I’d move back with them, I curled up on Rue’s couch and cried myself into a stupor while she nestled her tiny fairy-form around me in a supportive hug. Going home is not failure, she told me over and over again, her husky voice sounding so like her mother’s as she rubbed my back in soothing circles. You and your parents have always supported each other; it makes sense you’d go back with them, at least for a little – and it’s not forever, not if you don’t want it to be.

Rue’s parents – a costumer and a choreographer – left the capitol when they started having kids and heartily embraced small town life in the heartland, but they both had vibrant careers behind them and were ready for quiet inexpensive living, for Piggly Wiggly and the county fair and a fixer-upper farmhouse, and they quickly found avenues to exercise their talents on a smaller scale.

I’m a year and a half out of college with eleven wedding gigs, five funerals, and a teaching slot at the local conservatory to show for twenty years at the piano and a B.A. with high distinction.

“Jude just called,” I reply by way of explanation. “He wants to hire me for a wedding –”

“His?” she interjects impishly.

“No,” I quell, “but he wouldn’t tell me who it is over the phone either. We’re meeting for lunch on Saturday to discuss it.”

“Meeting for lunch to discuss a mysterious wedding right after you move back to town?” she presses slyly. “Maybe it’s yours!”

Rue knows there’s nothing of that sort between Jude and me and never has been, but she’s equally convinced that there must be, or should’ve been. He adores you, you know, she’s told me time and again. Like, Peeta-and-Katniss level devotion. Couldn’t you just kiss him once and see what happens?

“Be serious,” I snort.

“I am,” she insists. “I never understood why the pair of you never got together, or why you fell out of touch after graduation. Jude was crazy about you –”

“He was like that with everyone,” I counter. “The sweet, funny thing – that’s just his natural demeanor.”

“And did he ask everyone to marry him if their respective crushes married other people?” she wonders.

“He said we should go on a date, not get married,” I remind her, the edge of a snap creeping into my voice. “It was a low moment and a long time ago. We were both feeling angsty.”

I don’t mention the other thing, the thing I’ve never told anyone – not even myself when I can help it.

“Well…maybe it’s time, sweetie,” she posits quietly. “Maybe Columbine finally found a husband and Jude wants to give the pair of you a chance.”

“I really don’t think that’s it,” I tell her, oddly wearied by the subject, but judging by the increasing volume of background noise, Rue’s about to be pulled away anyway.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she admits at the selfsame moment. “I’ll be back in a few weeks myself, but call me ASAP after your lunch with Jude, okay?”

“You got it,” I promise, and we hang up. I set the phone on my mattress, next to the photo of Gale Hawthorne from the state hockey finals seven years ago, and sigh.

I haven’t seen him since the reception after Ashpet’s baptism, and it wasn’t the most auspicious encounter.

I’d never struck a man before – or since – and certainly never in a church basement.

“Magpie?”

My father pokes his head through the open doorway. “Movers just got here,” he says. “Is your room ready to go?”

I tuck the picture of Gale inside my battered paperback of Jane Eyre, just behind the Candygram with the red ribbon threaded across the top and tied in a perfect, pressed, bow. “This is it,” I affirm, and slip the book into my purse before following my father downstairs.

As a tween I was enamored of the 1995 remake of Sabrina and resolved to head off to school with a photo of Gale – obligingly supplied by Jude, who worked on the yearbook – to pin on my bulletin board and systematically cover with playbills, flyers, ticket stubs, and the like. But I could never quite bring myself to obscure him completely, and when I went to London for my semester abroad I brought him there too, to try and forget in a foreign land.

The book is a Gale token too, also obtained for me by Jude.

I finagled to take Senior Lit in spring of my junior year in order to free up an elective senior year and as a result took the class with Jude. The first book on the slate was Jane Eyre – which I loved, somewhat to my surprise – and in true high school fashion, each copy had a log card inside the cover for the present user to write their name on, beneath the names of the book’s previous readers. Of course, neither Jude nor I got Gale’s but we knew someone had it, and at Jude’s graduation party – months after all the books had been checked back in – he stole me away to his room to press the prized copy into my hands.

I think you were looking for this, he said as I opened the cover, frantically scanned the names inscribed therein and threw my arms around him with a shriek.

But Jude, I realized, pulling back with a start, you swiped this; what if they won’t let you graduate-?

I just did, he reminded me gleefully, and the diploma is signed, sealed, and securely secreted in Mom’s wall safe as we speak. Anyway, it wasn’t my copy, so even if they do notice it’s missing, it’s not me they’d come after.

I looked back at the last name on the card – Annie Cresta – and shook my head at him. If she gets in trouble for this, I warned.

She won’t, he promised. They don’t care that much about one of twenty-three beat-up paperbacks, and it means a whole lot more to you than to the school.

I hugged him again, fiercely this time, and he curled his arms around me with a little sigh. I’m so glad you like your present, mädchen, he murmured. I know it’s not you graduating, but I wanted to beat the rush.

I spent most of Senior Lit associating Gale with Mr. Rochester, to Jude’s clear chagrin, which was curious as he didn’t seem to like the character any more than he did my sullen, dark-haired crush. I’ll grant you similarities, he agreed, but can you imagine Gale delivering that beautiful string speech in any universe?

We took our Jane Eyre final on Valentine’s Day, and in the class directly following I received an anonymous Candygram with a strawberry lollipop affixed, a red ribbon painstaking woven through neat holes punched across the top and tied in a small bow, and the handwritten message:

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

I wished so badly for it to be from Gale – never mind he wasn’t even in school anymore, let alone inclined to quote Charlotte Brontë – or maybe that I had some other mysterious tall-dark-and-handsome admirer, but I knew exactly who it was from and let my head fall against his shoulder as we sat next to each other in the choir room, his literary Valentine cupped in my hands.

Jude’s breath caught a little at the gesture, then leveled out in a long slow sigh.

Thanks, Jude, I whispered.

We both knew it wasn’t a real love note but I treasured it as one just the same, pressed between the pages of my student planner until finding a worthier setting inside Gale’s copy of Jane Eyre. The book and Candygram went everywhere with me – every summer camp and weekend trip during my senior year and in college, on every choir tour, every visit back home, all across Europe on my backpacking trip with Rue and then on to my bedside table in England. If I couldn’t lay hands on it at a moment’s notice I’m not sure I’d be able to breathe.

The movers are quiet and efficient and the truck is loaded in a fraction of the time we anticipated, prompting Dad and me to hash out the pros and cons of setting out tonight instead, but there are plenty of last-minute little things to wrap up and we’d all prefer to make the drive on a good night’s sleep – which unfortunately, is not to be had for me. Dad booked us a hotel room in the suburbs for convenience, so we could check out of the loft as soon as the truck was loaded and leave in the morning without having to wait for one last walk-through with the landlord, but while he and Mom drift off quickly in their queen bed, I frown up at the ceiling from the sofa sleeper, contemplating Jude and Jane Eyre.

The capitol is a long way off, mädchen…

My junior year – Jude’s senior year – was like high school is in the movies: a charmed, wonderful dream that feels like it’ll never end. In October Peeta finally plucked up the nerve to ask Katniss out, and their relationship brought both her and I – and to a lesser extent, Rue – firmly into the Mellark circle. Jude and I had been friendly before that, but he’s both cousin and close friend to the Mellark brothers, and as a result he and I were thrown together almost constantly at meals, school events, even youth group outings. We jokingly called these “triple dates” or “quad dates” sometimes, since the rest of our group consisted of fast-and-firm couples – Peeta and Katniss, Luka and Johanna, and often Finnick and Annie as well – but no one ever seemed to take the idea of Jude and me as a couple seriously.

We were madrigal seat partners that December, which necessitated all kinds of marriage banter throughout the dinners, then after Christmas came Senior Lit and Jane Eyre and auditions for school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof. Determined not to miss out on a role when my best friends were undeniable shoo-ins, I dyed my hair a deep chestnut-brown the night before my tryout – solidly shocking everyone in my acquaintance, but it served its purpose when I was cast as Tzeitel. I’d had my hopes set on playing any one of the sisters and forgot until the read-through that I was playing the one whose wedding is a major showpiece of the play – and that I would be marrying Jude, made even more endearing in little round glasses.

I’d never had so much fun, before or since.

I left most of my high school mementos at home when we moved to the capitol but the Fiddler album has stayed with me, and from time to time I page through the photos, the notes that came with flowers from my parents and teachers, the programs that we all signed – and the subsequent ridiculous everyday notes from Jude addressed to “Wifey” and “Mrs. Kamzoil.”

Prom came around in April and our school required everyone to attend in pairs, so it was effectively decided over youth group pizza after a highway trash cleanup that I would be going with Jude. I’d nourished a pipe dream that Gale might magically materialize and ask me to go with him – you could attend with someone who had graduated and it happened now and again, with college freshmen coming back to escort their girlfriends – but when he actually did appear at the dance it was with Leevy, his flavor-of-the-month girlfriend, if the rumors were to be believed.

I still had my brown hair at prom-time, which Jude lamented to no end while alternately telling me that I was “gorgeous just the same” and making me laugh at the silliest things. The dance was a blast for the first two hours, and then Katniss and Peeta quietly revealed to our group that they were engaged, with plans to marry the following spring after graduation.

Their courtship had been rapid and intense – emotionally, not physically – and no one was surprised that marriage was forthcoming, but the timetable was shocking to say the least. None of us believed that Katniss was pregnant or anything of the sort but they were both barely seventeen, and neither had any interest in going on to college. Peeta had a career waiting at the bakery he loved and Katniss was supremely adaptable to almost any kind of work – and neither was closing the door on trade schools or vocational degrees, if a good fit should present itself. They had decided – rather practically – to spend their senior year planning the wedding and finding a home rather than fretting over the ACT and college applications, and they would get married at the end of May, before the weather got too hot and everyone headed off to college.

It was a preposterous and entirely sound plan.

Peeta and Katniss skipped the school-sponsored after-prom party, unsurprisingly, while the rest of us splintered off into contemplative pairs. Finnick and Annie and Luka and Johanna both seemed as good as engaged to me, but the announcement had rattled them as well, and Jude and I wound up watching the smarmy stage hypnotist by ourselves in a subdued sort of silence.

It wasn’t that either of us was unhappy at the news, exactly. While I considered Katniss my best friend, we had never been chatty in typical girlfriend-fashion, and yet her impending marriage struck my stomach like an icy stone. You’ll be going to college anyway, I reminded myself, and you’ll stay in touch, but none of this served to soothe.

Jude absently wrapped his tux jacket around my shoulders and then his arm, resting his cheek on the top of my head. He’d barely spoken since the engagement reveal and I couldn’t begin to guess what his uncharacteristic silence meant.

It sounds really nice, he said suddenly, softly. Staying right here, getting married, coming home to a wife and babies.

I wanted to retort something dry and mildly caustic but couldn’t find the words for any reply at all because it was nice, this future Peeta and Katniss were setting up for themselves. I wanted to continue with music as long as I could; to study abroad, to live in the capitol and maybe other cities in due course,, but that wasn’t the future either Katniss or Peeta wanted, and why should they force themselves through the college mold, going eyes-deep in debt for degrees they had no interest in and possibly jeopardizing their relationship with the distance and other, inevitable, obstacles when the future they both craved was easily within their grasp?

Madeline, Jude continued in that same soft tone – I was always Madeline or, affectionately, mädchen to him – if Columbine and Gale marry other people, will you go on a date with me?

Almost as long as Jude and I have been friends, we’ve been aware of each other’s hopeless longing for an oblivious sweetheart and openly commiserated about it, with no fear – or even thought – of annoying each other or hurting feelings. Butcher’s son Jude was in love with Columbine Wilhearn, all black curls and lovely voice, whose mother was a small-scale – if highly in-demand – clothing designer and I was in love with broody, breathtaking Gale, whose mother managed the local laundromat and who despised my very existence because, as the mayor’s daughter, I had surely been born to privilege – never mind that my father had been a music teacher before his election and that as mayor he served a rural town of some 8000 people and dealt with weighty matters like dog waste ordinances and ribbon cuttings for tiny antique shops.

We’d both made periodic, futile attempts to elicit our respective crush’s attentions, but somehow for the course of that year – the year of madrigal seat partners and Jane Eyre and getting married on-stage in Fiddler – the longing had felt a little less pressing. Jude still ordered flowers for Columbine on opening night – she was playing the female lead, after all – but in other circumstances he would’ve done so for every performance, not just the first, and he brought me flowers too – a vaseful of red tulips from his mother’s garden to brighten my corner of the greenroom. And while I knew he’d asked Columbine to prom their junior year – and been turned down, of course – I don’t think he even tried the next time around, just cheerfully stepped up to escort me when the opportunity arose.

In fact, to the outside observer, Jude and I probably appeared to be dating for the past year.

The realization left me cross, embarrassed and oddly weary. Jude and I were just friends, everybody knew it, but could we have inadvertently sabotaged each other’s crushes by spending so much time together? Would Gale have emerged to ask me out if I hadn’t been so immersed in the Mellark circle this year – and in Jude’s company in particular?

We’re at prom, I reminded him, my tone shorter than he deserved. I’m wearing an evening gown and your tux jacket. How much more of a date do you want?

I want to pick you up at your house, he replied without hesitation, a brush of lips against my lilac-threaded crown braid. Just you and me and maybe your dad on the porch, to shake hands and talk about the weather and remind me to have you back by 10:00, and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look as I slide an orchid on your wrist. We’ll go to a fancy restaurant and trade bites of our entrees and steal a pepper shaker when we leave, just to see if we can get away with it. We’ll hold hands under the table and slow-dance like it means something, not just because we came together and it’s obligatory, and when I drop you at home, you might let me kiss you under the porchlight.

I pulled away to look up at him, at those gentle smoky eyes – gray like Gale’s and yet absolutely, utterly, nothing like Gale’s – and tried to decide whether to throttle him or burst into tears, because I knew he didn’t mean any of this the way it sounded but it was still the sweetest thing I’d ever heard – and remains so to this day. But I didn’t want Jude – I didn’t, I was sure of it – and he didn’t want me, he was just getting broody – in the hen fashion, not the Gale fashion – because of Peeta’s engagement and Columbine had remained stubbornly indifferent to him, even in a tux or stage makeup or a doublet and tights.

Please, can I go home? I whispered. I’ll call my parents so you don’t have to leave.

Don’t be daft, he said lightly, but his eyes were sad. There’s nothing left to stay here for anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Columbine at the soda table laughing at something Gale had just said and was inclined to agree.

I didn’t go home, though Jude was more than willing to make the detour: I went to Rooba’s, because she had a spacious house and had invited our whole group to stay over after the after-prom party, to sleep till noon and enjoy a lazy brunch before going home. We were a remarkably well-behaved group of teens so it felt more like a church lock-in than anything else, except for the fact that I changed into my pajamas from an evening gown and slept in Lettie Wilhearn’s bedroom – sans Lettie, of course, Rooba having given her older kids the weekend off work and banished them to the lake cabin.

Jude didn’t say a word on the drive. When we got to his house he asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink, then obligingly disappeared after retrieving my overnight bag and directing me to the nearest bathroom.

I belatedly recalled that I was still wearing his tux jacket and intended to hang it on the back of Lettie’s desk chair when I turned in, but somehow I ended up taking it to bed with me as an additional makeshift cover, my nose burrowed in the comforting scent of his collar.

I dreamt about orchid corsages and hand-kisses and sneaking a pepper shaker into my purse and woke with sore, slightly puffy eyes, as though I’d cried myself to sleep. Lettie’s alarm clock read 11:18am in the blaring midday sun and in the papasan opposite me was Jude, curled up like a child with a pile of throw pillows under his tousled head. His eyes were open and contemplative and very carefully focused on the pillow adjacent to me.

Hey, I greeted him in a sleepy croak.

Hey, he replied softly, eyes flickering to mine. Do…do you hate me, mädchen?

I blinked rapidly, trying to think what he might have done to make me hate him or if he was just referring to the fact that we’d ended up sleeping in the same room, which didn’t bother me two pins. We’d fallen asleep on each other on the bus back from Knowledge Bowl tourneys and music competitions more times than I could count.

Why on earth would I hate you? I puzzled.

Because I…asked you out, he reminded me with a wince while still firmly maintaining eye contact, as though determined to stay strong for his sentencing.

At prom, I confirmed, a smile creeping irrepressibly across my mouth. It’s a bit like being in love with one’s own wife, Sir Percy. Demmed unfashionable.

The Scarlet Pimpernel was second on the Senior Lit slate and Jude had loved it just as much as I loved Jane Eyre.

Consequently, my remark won a grateful, crooked smile and I patted the bed beside me: an invitation Jude accepted without hesitation, stretching out his lanky frame with a groan and a breathless oof! as I flung my arms around his waist and pillowed my head on his chest.

I liked the smell and feel of Jude beneath my cheek. It felt like home – or going back there – and I think in that moment I finally realized those moments were numbered and swiftly counting down.

I’ve never been asked out before, you know, I reminded him. It was sweet; the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And anyway, you potentially asked me out, under a very specific set of circumstances.

True, he agreed, and that seemed to set everything to rights. Want go find some breakfast? he wondered, tracing my braid with a fingertip.

No, I replied firmly and nuzzled deeper into his t-shirt, hiding my face from the sun.

Me neither, he agreed, and curled his arms around me, hugging me snugly to him.

Jude had clearly passed a rougher night than me because he drifted off almost immediately and was still sleeping hard at 12:30, when the savory smells of Rooba’s thick-cut bacon and handmade sausages roused my belly and brain respectively. (I learned later that Luka and Johanna had commandeered Jude’s bed, not for anything sketchy, but that they were curled together and sound asleep by the time he finally made it there, hence being relegated to Lettie’s papasan – a fine place for reading and cat-naps but miserable for a night’s worth of sleep.) On my way to the bathroom I practically collided with Jenny, Jude’s fourteen-year-old sister, noshing on a bacon sandwich and voracious for gossip.

So are you and Jude together now? she demanded with all the cheerful frankness of their mother. I saw you cuddling in Lettie’s bed.

I had always adored Jenny Tolliver more than I would ever let on. She and Jude were the only full siblings among Rooba’s five children and the similarities were endearingly obvious, despite the fact that Jenny inherited their father’s stunning black hair where Jude was a tow-headed, gray-eyed hybrid.

That was snuggling, I corrected her. Small but crucial difference.

You should think about leveling up, she advised gravely. He adores you, you know, and I hear teenage weddings are coming back en vogue.

Go away, imp, I teased, unbothered by her implication. She’d wanted me and Jude to get together since our first season of Knowledge Bowl and stubbornly refused to acknowledge that we didn’t like each other that way. I need to find some coffee and then we can argue this further.

I’ll be waiting, she said gleefully, stepping aside to let me into the bathroom.

But Jenny and I never reconvened for that argument, because that afternoon was the start of the slow crumble of the perfect high school year. Not because of anything to do with Jude or prom or Katniss’s engagement: because of something I overheard on my way to the kitchen that ended up being far more significant than I could’ve imagined.

Rooba and Marek – the Mellarks’ bachelor uncle – were preparing all the cooked food for the sleepy teenage brunch binge but Peeta’s father had stopped by with an assortment of pastries from the bakery and was on his way out again, talking to Rooba on the back porch, when I passed by en route to the kitchen.

So they’re young, she was saying. They’re hard workers with good heads on their shoulders, and they both went through the wringer at a young age. They know how to provide for a family and will do whatever it takes to put food on the table. They’ll do fine – better than fine, if we help them out a bit.

Janek Mellark’s response to this wasn’t clear – something about waiting – and Rooba replied in a strange, edged tone: Would you wait if Alys was willing?

I moved away before I could hear his reply, if indeed he made one, and enthusiastically engaged burly, cheerful Marek in a debate as to which of his offerings – stuffed French toast, chocolate chip pancakes, or Belgian waffles – would be the best to start off with, but there was a hot thudding in my ears and my eyes couldn’t seem to focus.

Alys, of course, was Katniss’s mother Alyssum – my mother’s best friend and confidante from childhood to the present – and I knew through my mother that Alys and Janek Mellark had been high school sweethearts on the very cusp of getting engaged when she unexpectedly broke up with him to get together with Jack Everdeen. Janek married Raisa Brognar – Rooba’s younger sister – on the rebound and everyone had gone on to produce their respective children and find varying degrees of contentment in their lives, but by all accounts, the Mellarks had rarely if ever been happy together, and of course, Katniss’s father died six years ago, leaving Alys bereft and in a stupor of grief, not unlike my own mother when her twin sister died at sixteen.

According to my mother, Alys Everdeen and Janek Mellark had carefully avoided each other since their breakup in high school, but when Peeta and Katniss began dating, they were thrown together to a certain extent and forced to interact socially. Further, in an unguarded moment that winter, Janek had admitted to Alys that he was still in love with her – feelings, Alys confessed to my mother afterward, that she was troubled to find she returned.

Of course, I discussed this with no one but my mother, though many a time I’d ached to confide in Jude, since we were similarly on the fringes of this relationship – not directly involved but connected through our mothers and their own relationships with the couple in question.

Something about Rooba’s remark that morning after prom implied that things were changing or had done, maybe irrevocably, and when I asked my mother about it that afternoon she gave a long sigh and kissed my forehead as though I were still a little girl. Do you really want to know, petal? she wondered. It might be easier to be ignorant till it all comes out.

Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t wanted to know, and that’s how I learned what happened after the newly engaged Peeta and Katniss left for prom. About the argument that ensued when Alys furiously confronted Janek about his son’s proposal – and what happened after the argument.

I suppose it shouldn’t have come as that great a shock, but when you hear about a classmate’s parents getting divorced, you don’t think about his father sleeping with another classmate’s mother – or getting her pregnant. But it was some months before all of that came out, months when I could almost forget the secret burning in the back of my mind as the perfect year wound down to its inevitable, poignant end.

#the one that got away #fic bits #jude/madge #jude tolliver #modern au

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ziggory · 5 years

Text

Riverdale Liveblogs 3x07 - 3x13

Instead of making you all suffer through six separate liveblogs as I was catching up, have them all in on post!

3x07, “The Man in Black”

Remember when Jughead was the biggest woobie ever with a bunch of sad shit happening to him. Fun times. Honestly, Jughead’s just really taking advantage of finally being on the roadtrip he was denied

Justice for Jingle Jangle. Why did we need a new drug? Or I’d be fine with it complementing the other but NOooOooOOOO. It’s trying to shove JJ out of the spotlight!

Elvis’ granddaughter could’ve just drugged the eggs but instead she chose to nearly give Archie a concussion. Hiram might chop her head off if his Archiekins gets permanent brain damage

Let Archie kill a man!! Jughead got to skin someone who was fucking up his life. Why can’t he let Archie take his shot!? I can’t hear you about consequences

Your business is failing because trading away the final piece of the Soutshide to open a vanity project in the form of a dry speakeasy was not a great idea. Also, gamers can give you business. I’ve seen it!

The show can make Veronica say all these supposedly empowering lines, but I’m never going to forget that she supported a for-profit prison

MAYBE MY DAD’S NOT SO BAD!!?!?

This voiceover was completely unnecessary. Honestly, it’s sort of a slap in the face to Lili’s acting as if they didn’t think she could convey certain things without some hand holding

I’ve seen movies. They make you swallow that shit on the spot

So many negative thoughts being awkwardly confirmed

Honestly, this is what happens when you keep exploiting the place for abuses to help your investigations but never fucking shut it down

3x08, “Outbreak”

Does Moose need drugs to get it up? He said Midge liked to get wild, but methinks he liked it of his own volition as well. And just what I wanted. Shadowy makeouts while high on drug laced childhood candy

Kevin needs to find out who put a curse on his dick. ANOTHER hookup interrupted by bodies in danger

I don’t know why a group of high school boys acting like typical jackass high school boys with loud laughing is cause for thinking they’re all high.

“good people like Archie”

Gladys being a Jarchie shipper is pure. I will not stand for this no homoing

Wait, Cheryl did actually get to be Student Body President? I thought they were just going to let that circle the drain and disappear

MY FAVORITE INCOMPETENT EDUCATIONAL ADMINISTRATOR

THE PRISON WAS A FUCKING COVER?!?!? So all of S2 was just…oh my fucking god, I’m going to do drown myself

“good looking shortsatck” Love it. Goddamn, I love Gladys

Do they know that the way they write Hiram and Veronica feels like it’s been dipped in ten layers of incest? He talks to her like she’s the mistress he wants to bed

The affection the Jones women have for Archie is cute

The Gargoyle King being a hallucination is the most disappointing thing

TABLETOP RPGS ARE NOT FUCKING BORN OF MADNESS. Ugh, my inner geek is angry with rage

Oh, now you care about the kids in conversion therapy

So I guess they didn’t go to Toledo for Christmas??

Lili should get a raise for this Griffin Queen shit

I’m more emotional than I would usually be over these Fred scenes given Luke Perry’s recent condition

PROTECT THAT FUCKING DOG WITH YOUR FUCKING LIFE!! THROW YOURSELF IN FRONT OF A BEAR

I missed alcoholic Hermione. And lmao this Watchmen realness

I love Silent!Kevin getting nothing to say in that office! Just fucking great

we need to know more about this fucking Governor. Racist piece of shit who gets upset about vandalized statues of genocidal war criminals, AND he’s under Hiram’s thumb.

3x09, “No Exit”

Will someone get bit by a monkey? I can only hope

Oh fuck off with the Star Wars reference. IT DOESN’T FIT

Stealing from the rich to give to the rich. How very one percenter. And Toni, all your friends are living in tents by the river

KEVIN. WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS JOIN THE WORST GROUPS

While the implication of Jughead sleeping over is nice, what the fuck was the point of last episode’s cliffhanger. This timeline makes no sense

I’M GETTING FIREWATCH VIBES

They’re so fucking low budget that they couldn’t even show the bear, LMAO

I forgot what Fangs sounded like. Didn’t FP retire? ARE THERE EVEN ANY ADULTS LEFT IN THIS FUCKING JOKE OF A GANG. But Damn, Fangs is good at crying. So pretty

Aww, I actually missed the hammy ass warden

Every time Joaquin’s name is mentioned, another dagger in my heart

The fact that the sisters have been fake nuns this whole time is just…what the fuck. AND THE FUCKING SOCIAL WORKER KNEW AND JUST LET THEM KEEP OPERATING!?!? LET THIS WHOLE FUCKING TOWN FALL INTO A HELLMOUTH

Remember when Jughead was outraged about the Serpents being paid security at the Pickens festival thing? Time is a flat circle

CHERYL, WHY DON’T YOU JSUT KILL HIRAM THEN

“SAVED”!??! REALLY NANA ROSE!?! IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL THE CHILD GROOMING YOU DID!? And uh, Fred and Sierra should know about that sordid piece of Penelope’s past

Damn, Veggie is hot as fuck

You know who else could’ve gone undercover for the Serpents to infiltrate the Gargoyle gang?!????? I HATE YOU FOREVER, RAS. ANOTHER AU FOR THE DRAWER

3x10, “The Stranger”

LMAO that they tried to make us think Archie died

Being attacked by a bear in Canada means not having to suffer through crippling debt because of the hospital bill for the rest of your life

Sidenote, but I really thought the painting of Veronica would have a bug or something. The fact that she just kept the painting instead of burning it says something

Oh so the core four are THOSE type of friends

Betty’s money >> those kids

Claudius just doesn’t want to do actual work

They let a kid pass the first grade when he couldn’t read? So the educational system has always been rather shit

Hey there, Silent!Kevin! Just sitting silently with your slowly developing biceps

Does Reggie know what PTSD is

I spy with my little eyes Kevin in the corner putting his PE clothes away! Once again robbed of a shirtless scene

FUCKING TALL BOY!?!? Lol, this is really good for my drawer fic actually. Keep sounding like a spiteful man! It’s semi feeding me

Wow, they really crammed in two Varchie sex scenes

Hiram deserved this and every agonizing second of pain he felt

Raw milk, huh? Yeah, that’s all you need to bait Kevin into this cult

Bye Claudius, no one will miss you

I want Hermione/FP to fuck

Jughead throwing a party to make things better is the biggest twist this series has ever done

Archie the alcoholic, eh. If this lasts more than one episode, that’d sure be something

3x11, “The Red Dahlia”

This is the noir episode, isn’t it. I’m…really bad with noir so an episode from THIS team is going to be…very trying

Awww, FP mentioning Joaquin is an extra pang. I wanted to know more about their relationship

I’d love to see the notes on this draft when Jughead tries submitting it to a publisher. Unless he goes the self pub route

Who even runs the newspaper now?

Betty, you’re like the last person to talk about black and white morality

Archie sounds like the protagonist of Office Space at the end when he finds his calling in construction

ELIO HAS SPOKEN MORE THAN MELODY EVER DID. EAT SHIT, RAS

I still need Jughead and Veronica arguing about classic cinema

I wonder where Penelope learned those crocodile tears, Nana. Like I never need a scene of her criticizing her ADOPTED DAUGHTER again

Cheryl is pretty forgiving of the uncle who sort of helped with her institutionalization

Have these boys never watched an episode of Breaking Bad? Put that body in a barrel

So has Veronica had a change of heart about Daddykins? I’m so confused

SMITHERS!?!? YOu’RE STILL ALIVE!? Protect this man

Remember when Betty was a camgirl for ten seconds and watched all of her fake brother’s porn videos

Josie’s voice is pure butter, and the show needs to stop pretending that we want to hear anyone else sing

Why doesn’t Toni have a job at Veronica’s dry speakeasy? She used to be an actual bartender!

“Kevin’s dad boxes at the gym” being a line from Josie is the most beautiful line in this episode

Well at least they explained the seizures.

YYYAAAAAASSSS, KELLY RIPPA!!

What is even the point of Minetta having faked his death just to be Hermione’s kept man

Well, damn, I really didn’t see this FP reveal coming. I wish he was the sheriff Hermione was fucking. And given all the things Jughead used to say and aim at Keller, it’s interesting to see him have to deal with his dad being somewhat in Hermione’s pocket

PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER, ARCHIE

Lmao at this Bad Boys line. I see you, synergy

Honestly, how dare Archie shoot the person who was going to kill Hiram. I guess that’s one way to bury the Archie/Hiram grudge

Hermione’s trigger finger is life goals

3x12, “Bizarrodale”

So first off, fuck that title and everything it implies.

Second, this is the episode where I’m supposed to finally get fed, eh? FINGERS CROSSED

I forgot what Kevin sounded like after not talking for four episodes

WHEN CAN WE MEET KEVIN’S MOM!?!? I HAVE MANY FANCASTS

Veronica watches Netflix confirmed, and yet I guess she just scrolls past Orange is the New Black every time it’s recommended to her

Why are Kevoose makeouts always in shadow? Is it to disguise the fact that when they makeout it’s with their lips sealed shut

The actor who plays Major Mason followed me back on my burner instagram

Awww, Sweet Pea is a relationship guy with a gooey little heart!

Sierra pegs Tom confirmed. Love these two kinky fuckers

The way Tom says “Gargoyle King” goes straight to my nether regions

So does Britta have a kink for people outing others against their will? I swear this is a plot point in Ship It too

I feel like these issues are something they should’ve talked about way more. Making Moose’s coming out be an ultimatum is pretty gross

How DARE they not let us hear Josie sing?!??! Ohhhh, if we’d heard Josie sing then we would sent death threats to the fake Juilliard board. I never want to hear Josie’s teary little voice again because it hurts my feelings

Lmao, this is the second time a parent has been judgmental of how the Lodges involve Veronica in their business

Remember that time Moose and Cheryl made out? I’m forever traumatized by that

Hiram and Hermione strolling in like a fucked up Gomez and Morticia

I’m sure that Dilton would approve of his friend from another lifetime using his secret bunker to pop his cherry. But only Moose. Yes, I ship comics Dilton/Moose

Oh, HeeEYEEEEEEE, IT’S LIKE A BUNCH OF MY FIC DREAMS COME TO LIFE. Wow, I finally got pandered to. Kevin being in dagner is like…the basis of the majority of my drawer fics

I’M FUCKING PSYCHIC X2!!!! Well huh, this puts that earlier diner scene in a new light

Yesss, please keep calling him Tommy and talking about how Kevin looks like your old friend with that sad, wistful tone. Please feed my fic bunnies

Christ, Ashleigh has such a fucking amazing voice. I can actually bear KJ’s singing

Moose having to leave makes sense. ALSO MAKE SURE YOU WATCH CODY”S SHOW ON NETFLIX TO MAKE THIS WORTH IT

I never want to see Kevin cry again. Fucking Maramaduke

Gladys can step on me, and I’d apologize

3x13, REQUEIM FOR A WELTERWEIGHT

I’M FINALLY ALL FUCKING CAUGHT UP

I don’t think that bacon is fully cooked

So Veronica just decided to not move back out because the path of least resistance?? And she’s back in her Daddy’s clutches because....he got shot???

The Serpent with the awesome dreads is still there! Can he be an actual character with a name? He deserves it

Between last episode and this one, I am being fucking BLESSED with Daddy Keller content.

VERONICA IS a FUCKING REPUBLICAN CONFIRMED. I guess we all know who scrolled right past 13th on Netflix!

They’re really trying to sweep up their awkward plot mistakes from last season, eh

I need a flashback of young Alice in this ugly fucking wedding dress

This is some Rocky and Mickey shit. Hopefully Keller doesn’t have a heart attack while confronting Mr. T

YES, GLADYS!!! CALL OUT THAT LEADERSHIP!

San Junipero water, huh.

Why is Archosie so perfect

Ehhhh, the last time they talked was eight episodes ago. Will this scene be about how Kevin’s recovering post-Moose?? Of course not. My hopes for investigative Kevin are once again yanked away. Though of course remember that time she got him to catfish a murderer without telling him that Chic had killed someone?? Fun times

“cute gay farmies”

Veronica is the opposite intimidating ESPECIALLY in the face of Gladys who we all know has actually fucked up a bitch

The monstrous Freeform ate Malachai, eh. Ghoulie jackets are still the best jackets

I’ve never watched Apocalypse Now so this scene is wasted on me

THUNDERDOME!!?!?

Keller looks like he gives good hugs

How the fuck did Jason learn about The Farm?

This is Polly’s revenge for being sent to the Sisters

It’s awkward how Choni just sort of disappeared from the episode

Damn, Archosie has everything going on

Hermione, you should’ve just killed Hiram when you had the chance

PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER JUGHEAD!

Gladys doling out gang advice is just everything I wanted from her

#Riverdale #Riverdale liveblog

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thirstyfortom · 6 years

Text

Sorry for the abscense, Ray’s route got me deep... hope you like this!^^

High School AU: RFA + Saeran getting invited to MC’s bedroom

Zen

It would be hard to focus on the lesson itself considering these subjects are a snooze fest for him

But now it’s hard to focus because... it’s… your room!

Your bed is just inches apart from him… and from you… from the two of you… no no no snap out of it

“Zen, are you okay?” “Ahh, I’m… yeah, I’m okay, MC, just… I’m just spacing out because math is so boring, you know?”

“Haha, I do. Then… do you want to do something else?” you smile. CRAP! The beast!

“S-something else? I… would like a lot, babe, I…” “Great! So why don’t we start the report on that book? I know you read it because the drama club will adapt to a play, right?” Ah… ahahahah right…

Well, this won’t be that much of a snooze fest anymore, but… it’s not like it will be any easier to focus with you being so cute…

Yoosung

He’s so torn between focusing on doing the assignment or trying to get to know you better

But by taking quick glances around your room, he feels he already knows a lot.

The artists you like, the books you read, the color you like for decoration and… for your underwear, since he’s seeing a bra underneath your bed.

“Yoosung… something wrong?” “B-bra? What bra? I haven’t seen any bra, MC!” Oops…

“Bra…? What about..? OHHHH!” you widen your eyes as you get as red as him, noticing the garment and running to grab it and throw in your closet.

“I’m… I’m really messy, I’m sorry you had to see that, Yoosung…” “You… you talk like it was something bad for me…”

Ah, great… now he doesn’t know if he tries to forget his own flustered expression or if he helps you with yours…

Jaehee

She would rather work at her own place since it’s more comfortable for her, but oh well…

Whatever it takes to finish this quickly and efficiently for both of you

And things progress very well, even with her feeling rather curious about your posters… she has one similar to that, do you… have the same musical taste?

“I almost got an autograph when I went to their concert, but it was too crowded…” you say, following her gaze.

“Oh… you went to their concert? I couldn’t buy a ticket…” “Ah, next time we can buy them together!”

You smile sweetly, making her heart thump a little harder. Was your room always this stuffy? Why is she feeling so hot all of a sudden?

“I… I think we could finish this quickly if we listened to some music, MC…” yeah, hopefully this will make her regain attention to the homework.

Jumin

He doesn’t think your bedroom is the best place to study, don’t you have a study room like he has on his house?

But… it’s not like he hates it. It’s cozy and comfortable and… well, it’s your room after all, so it can’t be bad.

But it is a little distracting, it’s your most personal space, you sleep in here, you… chance your clothes in here… okay, weird thoughts

“Jumin, something bothers you?” “Not at all, I’m sorry for spacing out, MC. Let’s get back to these equations…”

“Sure, but… we’ve been on this for a while now… why don’t we take a little break?” Oh… you’re quite bold, aren’t you?

“What do you have in mind?” “We could grab something to eat… I’ll make something for us!” you get up. “I’ll help you.”

“Oh please, you’re a guest, I can’t-“ “I insist” Yes, he needs to forget these wild thoughts, also… he wants to spend more time with you.

Saeyoung

He’s so nervous and excited for being in your room with you he’s almost forgetting this is about studying

Yeah, he wants to explore your bedroom and get to know you even more!

But since he can’t just ask you, he keeps distracting you with jokes

“Saeyoung… I’m serious, stop making me laugh! We need to finish this!” you try to scold him, and he lives for the fact you’re failing.

“Ha! Don’t worry too much, MC! This is piece of cake!” he shrugs, taking a glance of what book you have in your nightstand right now…

“No, it’s not! So let’s focus and just finish this before it starts getting dark…” “Well, if it gets dark, we can have a slumber party!”

He’s a little embarrassed for saying that, but your blushing face is just adorable. So adorable he’ll make it up by helping you finish this, though imagining the slumber party still makes him all tingly.

Jihyun

He’s so glad you invited him to your house.

But it is a surprise that you want to work in your bedroom.

Well, any place that makes you more comfortable to study is fine with him.

“Don’t mind the mess too much.” When people say that, usually it’s just a thing they say about a room that is perfectly organized, but… is not exactly the case here.

Yeah, it’s quite messy… but it’s very you, that’s why he’ll oblige and don’t mind.

And as studies progress, he can’t take his eyes off of you, you’re… even more beautiful when you’re all comfortable and concentrated.

“Jihyun? Something wrong?” “No, it’s just… your room is just as cute as you.”

Saeran

He’s so embarrassed to be in your room just the two of you

So at first, he’s all stiff and weird, looking around when you can’t notice

He really needs to focus so you guys can finish this quickly and he can go home before his thoughts go to a dangerous place, but… it’s so comfortable in here and it smells so nice… so like you…

“Saeran…? Hey, Saeran…” he wakes up with you shaking his shoulder lightly. Did he… did he doze off? FUCK!

“Ugh… sorry, MC, this is… this is so lame, I’m… ugh, so lame.” Yeah, he can’t believe he just slept in the room he always wanted to see.

“It’s fine. We can take a break if you’re tired.” “I’m not tired, I’m just… comfortable, maybe too much… we… should get out of here if you really want to finish this today.”

“Well… it’s due to next week, so… we don’t have to finish today, you… you can come over again tomorrow… if you’re comfortable with it.” Ah yeah… he definitely is.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger witing #mystic messenger scenarios #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger zen #hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #mystic messenger v #jihyun kim #saeran choi

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wannawrite · 6 years

Text

The Royals - KD [ pt.2 ]

who?: Wanna One’s Kang Daniel

genre: 🌺🌸

type: bullet point

TW: violence, guns - GUN! CONTROL!, profanity

blog navigator.

part two \ two

one

mafia! AU

you’ve always known he could break bones, but you never thought Kang Daniel was capable of breaking your heart

concludes daniel’s story! sorry this literally took a decade to upload, hope y’all ain’t starved

- Admin L

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

time went on as usual

eventually, you announced to your friends and family that you and Daniel were no longer a thing

it was tragic sad

at least your friends never left your side through the thick and thin

JooE even offered to throw away the painting she had painted but you insisted she keep it

you avoided him as much as you could at school

not much because he was literally EVERYWHERE

last time, you appreciated the fact you too had so many clashing classes and lunch slots...

now they just were more opportunities for the dagger lodged in your chest to sink deeper

• thankfully, Daniel didn’t shoot a sad puppy dog look or a cheery smile because you would hAVE CRACKED INTO PIECES AND GOTTEN BACK WITH HIM YEAH

whipped

whipped enough for you to still congratulate him on graduation day and made that a final goodbye to your ex-boyfriend

okay maybe you were just a courteous person

you wondered how his mafia was doing

how was Jeon Somi? what was Ong Seongwoo up to?

after a short two days of staying at Somi’s apartment - she got you out of the wrecked Kang mansion - you grew attached to her and considered her your friend

however, you only managed to get her KakaoTalk and due to her busy schedule, she almost never replied to your messages

in a sense, you missed out on the exciting mafia lifestyle

but better safe than sorry right? especially when dealing with the law

some people just weren’t cut out to be part of organised crime associations

sometimes...whenever you let your mind wander, it would take you to an alternate universe where you had stayed with Daniel

here Daniel had accepted your help and stuck with you

a world where you too held the mark of a royal - a tattooed crown

you would be one of them

and it would be you and Daniel. Both of you missions together, going up against NCT, fighting side by side

mundane school life thrown into the wind, caution tossed far away

you could be travelling all over the globe with the love of your life, tracking down NCT members and claiming heists

that could’ve been your new life

but it wasn’t

and Daniel wasn’t involved in your current...that bit kind of sucked the most if you were completely honest

...you wanted him, and all of his dark secrets

haha but you had neither

strangely, life seemed well enough for you to forget the majority of the details, only remembering the important parts

life goes on

people move on

so why the hell was there a bitter aftertaste on the tip of your tongue when you saw a post on IG with Daniel in it

he seemed to be posing with close friends, pulling candid faces

who tf are they and why do I still follow them

@kinghwan

uhhh Kim Jaehwan from that one Christmas part from 3 years ago?

it was more of your cousin’s party, which is why you only knew your family there

you think you only followed him because he followed you?

how does he know Daniel?

why is Daniel so important to him that he must appear in one of the three pictures on his feed

+ Jaehwan has a lot of followers 14k...they’ll all be seeing Daniel

WHAT THE HELL

...those kinds of things happened occasionally

look that dumb prick went drinking again and he spent money on a bitter Hite can

stupid...I bet he couldn’t even walk into his house that night

wait, why do I still care?

graduation was the last incident you had seen him face to face

surprisingly, he disappeared right after school had ended, as if he vanished from the face of the earth

perhaps it was another Kang Daniel effect

at least he was gone

that part helped your brain to more or less erase a small chunk of your memories of him

you just hoped he wasn’t gone for good

anyway

you drew out your own map, paved your own path, created an individual route in life

did whatever the hell you wanted to do

whatever deemed morally and lawfully correct that is

be good children okay

whenever you could, you worked as a flight attendant on one of the country’s top airlines to fund your college tuition

the stack law school fees weren’t going to pay themselves

not to be nsfw but here I am organising baguettes on a jet powered by dinosaur bones, flying through clouds

‘WE HAVE 2 MINUTES BEFORE BOARDING STARTS. WHERE ARE THE BREAD TRAYS.’

keep :) calm :))

I’m sure everyone is familiar with how boarding a plane works

you’re checking people’s boarding passes as they march into the aircraft

some of the names start ringing bells into your head

fire alarm bells

Kim Jaehwan

Kim Chungha

Ong Seongwoo

Kim Sohye

WAIT

AS IN THE ONG SEONGWOO FROM FOUR YEARS AGO

THE KIM JAEHWAN FROM THREE YEARS AGO

they’re dressed like ordinary passengers, but black masks hide the bottom half of their face

is Seongwoo wearing circle lenses?

why the hell are they flying economy when they have 11 private jets?

just what are The Royals up to now

f o u r years ago...it was about trying to salvage Daniel’s relationship with you, protecting you two from NCT

what are they doing now?

The Royals: Where are they now? not clickbait

a heist? an ambush attack? meeting with dealers? meeting with NCT? or had their enemy changed?

dealers as in firearm and car dealers...not drugs

don’t do drugs kids

and don’t buy illegal firearms or cars, you’ll end up in jail

just don’t do illegal things

a small fraction of your heart began to beat wildly once again

this was the first time you had such a close encounter with people you thought had been left in your past

a brief look of recognition crossed Seongwoo’s eyes when his gaze fell on you but he pressed his lips together and continued moving down the aisle

great...just fantastic, the whole gang of them are sitting in the rows I’m in charge of in

do! not! crack! now!

Jaehwan couldn’t possibly remember me because he spent the whole party with my cousins and ended up drunk playing the piano

Seongwoo would’ve shown some sort of response if he remembered

so, I’m just another flight attendant

good

nothing’s gonna happen

even with that phrase chanting in your head, your hands still shook and heat still scorched the back of your neck

you simply could not stop yourself from observing them, your eyes rarely left the four faces

so much so you almost dropped an entire tray of drinks on another passenger

finally, after serving the passengers’ lunch, you got a chance to catch your breath

‘tired?’ your colleague asked you as she fanned her face, trying to stall the melting of her makeup

‘definitely, work never stops,’ you replied with a chuckle

you wondered why she was pulling a weird face and gesturing to ‘turn around’

when you did, you nearly smacked into a girl who bore a black mask

• your co-worker stepped out of the pantry, closing the thick purple curtain behind her

‘how can I he-‘

it all happened in one fluid motion

the girl’s hand curled around your throat, your body slammed into the cabinet-lined walls, a gust of breath leaving your lungs

‘who sent you to keep watching us?’ she snarled, ripping away her black mask

‘I-I...’ well, what on earth were you going to say? she wouldn’t believe me anyway

‘don’t test my patience. I won’t spare a second in stopping your air supply.’ There was a furious glint in her eyes, but you had seen this look before

it was the look Daniel gave you when he broke up with you

it wasn’t out of pure aggression or force, she just wanted to protect her friends

he just wanted to protect you

maybe himself too

a bit too late to understand now....

oxygen was rapidly dwindling in your bloodstream and your head began to throb

the sound of metal scraping metal and the curtain being pulled open called you back to consciousness

‘sohye! want the hell are you doing?’

Seongwoo?

he yanked the girl - supposedly

Sohye - off you, allowing you to heave deep breath

Seongwoo restrained her from you, ignoring her attempts to break free. ‘Calm down! It’s them. They...they’re Daniel’s ex.’

she froze in her spot, like a deer caught in the headlights

wow who knew being Daniel’s ex was such a big deal

who knew it would get me killed?

‘I-I t-thought NCT sent them. We have no clue who to trust nowadays; NCT has spies everywhere!’ Sohye hissed in a hushed tone

Seongwoo nodded understandingly, his eyes darting around to ensure the three of you weren’t being watched

he turned to face you

‘I need you to come with us.’

your brows knitted together, puzzled, not quite making sense of what he was trying to tell you

I’m not a Royal? I haven’t seen one in 4 years

‘This plane is headed to Dubai right now. There, a jet is waiting to take us to London,’ Sohye explained

clog wheels began churning rapidly in your head, trying to understand what they were saying

‘We’re going to see Daniel.’

blood coursing through your veins froze, your eyes went round like hard candy, everything around you seemed to stand still

Kang Daniel, it’s been more than four years since I’ve seen you

I never imagined that our first meeting would be like this

‘how the hell do you expect me to get out of my job?’ you retorted to the four gang members. ‘I’m due the next flight back to Seoul.’

Chungha let out a chuckle. ‘We’ve got connections. I bet someone is already filling your spot.’

The Royals were powerful enough to let your strict boss let you off so easily

ridiculous

you took a glance at your small overnight luggage and back at the Royalty

deep breaths

think about it...it’s now or never

‘okay, let’s go.’

Seongwoo grinned, he grabbed the handle of your luggage. ‘Woojin is waiting in the jet for us.’

...hmm...don’t think my chances of escape were high anyway

Kang Daniel is one rich prick

I love him

you just like his private jet

who wouldn’t fall in love with the jet that had polished wood floors, plush calf leather seats and a seemingly unlimited supply of food and beverages

there were even private bedrooms for night flights

luxurious

Jaehwan heaved a deep sigh of relief when the plane wheels left the tarmac runway

he looked like he was just pale of fainting

‘NCT was watching us. I could feel their eyes on me. Those young kids Jisung and Chenle are unbelievably sneaky.’

• is anyone else shook by how drastically nct dream has changed bc me

‘wait, NCT was around this whole time?’ you asked, chewing the inside of your lips nervously

‘yeah, they’ve gotten wind of you and more information. Some weird idea of Taeyong’s decided that you were a threat and needed to be eliminated too,’ Chungha spoke up

‘our mission was to take you to HQ in London, where there are fewer NCT associates. Somi sent us.’

‘Daniel doesn’t know......’

wonderful, I’m going to give him the surprise of a lifetime

‘And I had no idea what you looked like until today, sorry I tried to kill you just now.’ Sohye apologised, smiling sheepishly

you wondered if it was a common saying among The Royals

‘how’s Daniel?’ you blurted out, unable to keep your curiosity at bay. A warm blush suffused into your cheeks

the four members snickered with knowing smirks on their faces

‘He’ll be pleasantly surprised to see you in person. I’m sick of him staring at polaroids in his wallet all day.’

it was safe to say that made your blush redder than a tomato and butterflies erupt in your stomach

uh those butterflies morphed into blood sucking leeches by the time you found yourself packed away into a limousine and on the way to The Royals London HQ

why London? did they expand so wide internationally?

you just had too many questions

Daniel...Daniel...Daniel...Daniel was the keyword that chanted in your brain

the HQ was a very low-key building, unlike the lavish apartment complex in Korea

till smack in the middle of the busiest centre of the city

it seemed like a classic office building, just extremely well-guarded

you figured there weren’t many Royals wandering around London

‘c’mon, this way,’ Jaehwan whispered, leading the whole gang - now inclusive of Woojin, the pilot - through an entrance, easily passing by security. ‘Daniel isn’t around-‘

‘well, well,’ a voice called out

h i m

i miss him

i miss that voice so much, but I never thought anxiety would arise when he called out to us

‘h-hyung...’

Daniel’s steely eyes bore into yours, his gaze had changed, his overall appearance had gone through a massive transformation

though, you swear those liquid brown orbs softened when he recognised who you were

‘you brought them here? who is responsible for this?’ Daniel growled out through clenched teeth

before anyone could open their mouth to respond, you voiced out, ‘It was me.’

everyone’s eyes were on you, revealing their true shock

‘I-I contacted Seongwoo after many years of searching...and then I begged him to intercept my Dubai flight to take me here because...because I knew you would be here,’ you fibbed, hoping it was believable at least for a second

you answered all his unspoken questions. ‘I missed you, Daniel. Is that such a crime?’

a huff came from his devilish lips, he gestured for you to follow him as the others retreated

Daniel lead you into a study on the far side of the building, the pristine floor-length glass windows offered a fantastic view of the city below

his expensive taste was evident from the fabulous art pieces that decorated the walls, the sparkling dark mahogany furniture and a knitted couch

suddenly, you felt Daniel’s arms snake around your waist, his soft lips came onto yours, deepening the kiss with urgency

‘I’ve been wanting to do that for forever,’ he muttered against your lips after pulling away to catch his breath

he continued before you could say a word. ‘I was absolutely furious when I heard about Somi’s mission. All I wanted was to keep you safe, but here I was doing the exact opposite.’

huh? not a single NCT member could come to your mind just pondering about it?

Daniel shot you an unamused yet worried look

‘did you really think Lucas was a nice guy from church? he’s the biggest sinner I’ve ever encountered.’ The surety in Daniel’s voice was alarming

‘...which is why you’re here now...and I kissed you...’

you want to yell at him, shred his expensive paintings and throw marble statues at him

but you can’t

‘you were a real bastard for leaving me four years ago,’ you spit, meaning every single word. ‘Don’t think I’m going to waltz right into your arms again.’

not that you want to hurt him, you just want him to realise what he’s done wrong

okay yeah maybe you do want Daniel to regret leaving you in the dust

‘I know. I’m sorry I was a such a coward, I was wrong.’

the very tips of his ears begin to go red as he takes a step away from you, backing straight into his desk

only two picture frames sit on the tabletop, one of them of his elite unit and the other frame held a picture of him and you

if NCT broke in, they would get every single bit of information without trying too hard

I suppose that’s why there are guards patrolling EVERYWHERE

Daniel’s shock towards your next words was clearly written all over him

ah yes he knocked over his laptop

‘it’s okay, I understand. I would’ve done the same if I was in that position. That doesn’t excuse the fact I’m still hurt and upset over that incident but we grow up and mature, I think we don’t have to be petty about it.’

internally, a conflict was stirring but being the mature person you are, you were willing to get Daniel back as a friend

hopefully, you won’t be s w o o n i n g into his hold after 2 seconds

Daniel perked up immediately, his eyes glazed over dreamily. ‘Serious?’

‘woah lover boy, I’m not going to be kissing your lips again!’ you hurl with a playful - almost flirty - chuckle. ‘I’m saying we can be friends.’

we all know what happens from here onwards

‘reeeeaaallllyyyy?’ Daniel drawls out, flashing an enchanting smile. He sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the desk

your heart begins to pound as he leans in, lips barely brushing your earlobes

‘you’re so certain about that, aren’t you?’

face is pink

Daniel is too cheesy

avoiding his alluring moves is hard work but you still try your best

‘yes, of course, I am.’

he pouts sulkily like the young teenager you recall him to be

‘fine then. want to grab dinner together?’

the offer is extremely tempting but you know you’ll fall in DEEP

‘daniel...I really shouldn’t’

‘what? two friends can’t eat dinner together? that’s a tad bit unfair, don’t you think?’ Daniel points out, furrowing his brow. His eyes say he’s won it all

how bad could this be?

very

how long am I going to live for?

better, how long will Daniel stay with me?

‘okay then,’ you agree, seemingly nonchalant while your heartbeat speeds up. ‘Pick a place and tell me the dress code. After, we have to talk about this whole NCT thing.’

he nods too excitedly, unable to contain his enthusiasm

anticipation

the WANT to go on a date with Daniel again arises after years of suppression

a fresh start

saving the story from the very end is the best beginning

perhaps, Daniel was still the guy who held that special place in your heart

even though he messed up a few years back, nothing could be worse than living unforgiven

too merciful to leave him in misery

I won’t live regretting my actions anymore

I just hope that...Daniel was lying when he said he didn’t love me

if not I’m calling Somi and we’re getting out of here lol

I’ve a l w a y s loved them, I should never have pushed them away

‘just wait and see, being in love gets you places.’

#wanna one #produce 101 #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 scenarios #kang daniel

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hayjeon · 7 years

Text

Cardiovascular Palpitations Pt. 2 (ft. Jeongguk) [M]

→ fluff, smut, angst, really fuckign fluffy smut 10k → friends with benefits au, doctors au ft Taehyung → part 1 | part 2 | story talk

Yay! This was super cute but I’m seriously so glad its over lol I didn’t edit so its not my best work but it’s officially the longest thing I’ve ever written so I hope you like it! Let me know what you think, and I’ll be uploading a story talk and drabbles about this au soon!

You pursed your lips as you stood in your underwear in front of your closet. It was much different than it used to be years ago, when in college it was overflowing with crop tops and shiny tight dresses that you could’ve worn to any frat party without feeling underdressed.

But now, years later, you were way too old for those teenager clothing trends and needed something a bit formal and mature-looking. The problem was, you were a doctor, which meant just throwing on whatever underneath scrubs or the white coat. The outfits actors and actresses wore on doctor dramas were bullshit. Nobody had time to look like they were on a runway when they didn’t know whether they’d be sprayed with blood from an erupting artery or vomit from a patient who had too much to drink the night before. It was the worst kind of surprise.

You thumbed through the clothing, finally finding something somewhat decent. It was a bright blue mini dress, tight enough to accentuate your figure but loose enough to be modest for a five-star restaurant like the one Taehyung was taking you to in an hour.

It had been years since you’d dressed up this nice for a date. Sure, you had plenty of flings during your more free college days, but as soon as you’d decided to go the medical route, boyfriends weren’t much of a priority, and when you did have time to date, you were way too occupied and way too obsessed with saving money for med school either of you never had the chance to really venture out into scenes like this.

Now, you were able to afford yourself a nice apartment and your salary was enough to pay for you car, your insurance and your own personal hobbies, but going to an expensive and lavish restaurant had never occurred to you, until now. Taehyung, who seemed like he was doing pretty well off himself too, had suggested this place first thing.

You did your hair and makeup with a lot more care than you were used to and were buckling the straps to your heels when the doorbell rang. You stood up, grabbing your clutch, and opened the door to see Taehyung waiting with some flowers in hand and a very, very cute suit.

“Wow you look great!” He smiled, giving you a big hug and putting the flowers in your hands.

You smiled, “You look great too, Tae! Let me go get a vase, and let’s get going!”

He drove to the restaurant, and as soon as you entered gave the waiter his name for the reservation and pushed your chair in for you as you sat.

“It’s actually my first time here,” you commented, as the waiter brought you your menus. Skimming over the items, your eyes bugged out at the steep price range and the lavish names of aged wines that you knew were definitely a lot more expensive than the cheap bottles you had stashed in your living room. And bedroom. And shower.

Being a doctor was stressful enough, you had plenty of excuses for the random wine bottles hidden around your house.

He nodded, “The director of the hospital brought all of us new department additions here for our first day of work. It was really good, and even better cause he was paying for it all.” He winked at you, “since I’m paying, you better eat as well as I ate.” Chuckling, he waved the waiter over.

“Can I have the wine that I requested earlier and can we get started on our meals?” You watched as he made the order carefully, how his eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheekbones and his lips parted slightly as he gazed over the menu to find what he was looking for.

You remembered in med school that he sat next to you in one of your pre-requisites and you were looking like absolute shit because you just came back from a midterm that basically sucked the soul out of you. Jeongguk was sitting on your left, and you’d been almost knocked out on the seat next to him when someone nudged you and spoke softly, “Is this seat taken?”

Half dead, half asleep, you mumbled, “No,” and removed your backpack and peeled open your eyes to see the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen staring back at you with a half smile. Smacking your lips and sitting up, you’d pretended like you were interested in the lecture, but instead you were watching how he took amazing, neat notes. He’d made a few funny comments during lecture, about the professor who droned on and on about something about his dog, whispering to you, “I bet if someone asked him to talk about his dog for the entire rest of the semester, he’d do it.”

You giggled, trying to arrange your hair into something along the lines of an actual hairstyle. “Yeah, and his midterm and finals would just be to describe his dogs and his relationship to them.”

And that was how you started your crush on him. He’d offered to help you study for that class, chuckling and reminiscing, “Oh my god, did you just come back from taking Professor Song’s Anatomy test? Dang, I remember his tests. Brutal.”

“If you want, since you’re probably fried from regurgitating all those hexanes and benzoic acid structures, I can help you study for bio?” He offered, blinking those huge big eyes at you. And you’d accepted, and for the next few days, he’d patiently and carefully gone over the topics in class with you. And you’d aced that class, adding onto your other good grades.

You remembered on the day of his graduation, when you went for another friend in your club but ran into Taehyung during the ceremony, he’d pulled you in for a quick picture, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leaning his head on yours. You saved that picture on your phone, but now you don’t remember exactly what you did with it.

Once Tae had moved on to America for his residency, your heart did not grow fonder at the absence. You never really liked Taehyung anyway, it was just a momentary crush that happened because he was just really good looking, and nice.

But as you observe him now and notice the glances from other women he’s getting you realize how handsome he was and still is. He had everything, but you notice, a little thinner than Jeongguk.

You catch yourself with a start, why were you comparing Tae to Jeongguk? Shaking your head you focus on the story Taehyung was telling you about a crazy patient who was basically high off anesthesia and went around the hospital ward singing and chanting the names of kpop girl groups.

You giggle in response, pushing around the piece of steak on your plate. Your dress was starting to get tight, and all you wanted to do was to rip it off and put on some baggy sweats and a tank top, take the bobby pins out of your head and just tie it up in a messy bun and stuff your face with ice cream. But as Taehyung animatedly continues his story, you just laugh and keep the conversation going.

Was talking with Tae always this…predictable? Sure, his stories were funny and quite interesting, but honestly, you’d seen worse cases and experienced even funnier patients during your years as a resident. He’d ordered a salad for himself, citing that he was watching what he ate, and you guiltily switched out the fries for a salad with your steak at that comment.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the gogi place Jeongguk took you to after a hard day at work. It was an all-you-can-eat korean barbecue with mouthwatering pork and steak and you’d eaten until you felt like you were going to pass out. And then he’d ordered you two rice wine and it was history after that, getting shit drunk and then giggling and stumbling into your apartment and trying to get ready for bed. But being clumsy and tired, you two had just passed out on your bed and woken up the next day with full stomachs and horrible hangovers. But it was one of the best meals you’d ever had.

Sure this steak was great, juicy, and really high quality, but the fist-sized portion was definitely not enough to satisfy your appetite. As the night drew to an end, Taehyung drove you home, keeping a nice conversation with you about how your experience in residency was. You told him about how after med school you were accepted to this huge hospital, and eventually slowly made your way up to the youngest female surgeon of the Cardio department alongside Jeongguk.

When you mentioned his name, Taehyung asked, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. “Are you and Jeongguk still as close as you were in med school?”

You laugh, “Yeah, we were inseparable in med school huh? I’d say we’re just really good friends now. I mean, I can’t help it, he’s my co-head-surgeon of the department.”

He turned his eyes back to the road, “How did you end up being co-partners again?”

You shrug, rolling your eyes at the memory. “We were both really young, but super over-qualified for the job. And so instead of putting one of us, where the director would’ve had to choose one of us to be the department representative and the other to be the subordinate, he just went the easy route and just chose us both.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You shrug again, “At first, I was really mad, cause I thought it was because I was a girl that he didn’t trust me enough to lead the department surgeries on my own. But director Kim is a smart man, and I think he knew that putting us together would make the department run more smoother.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well, Jeongguk’s better at the public stuff; you know, greeting people, going to meetings, charming the pants off of the other department heads and like training the new members. I’m not so good at that, maybe since I’m just too tired and quiet to do all that and not pass out from fatigue. I’d rather just be behind-the-scenes, making the powerpoints and organizing the ideas that Jeongguk presents, and doing the professional stuff like presentations and recorded operations, etc.”

Taehyung hums, pulling up into your driveway. “Interesting.” He turns off the engine, and turns to you, “I’m not sure if you heard but the director sent me to your department to join your team. I’m not taking over your position or anything but apparently you guys needed some help on the surgeries you had to take care of?”

You nod. He smiles, taking your hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Y/N. I hope you can learn to rely on me like you rely on your…partner.”

You nod, not catching the deeper tone for the last word. “I’m excited to work with you too, Taehyung. It’s nice to have you back.”

He walks you to your door, and as you stand in front of your closed door, he takes your hand and kisses it again.

He smiles, gripping your hand tighter. “Y/N, I-I actually brought you out to dinner today because I wanted to ask you out formally. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and I actually asked to be transferred to this department because of you.”

You gaped your mouth open, eyes widening at the comment. “Wh-what? B-but after med school, you never…?”

He smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I knew if I tried to contact you I’d miss you even more. So I really tried so hard to keep myself away from you. Here, I even carried this around in my wallet so I wouldn’t forget you!” He pauses, taking out a tattered picture from the graduation day from his wallet and shyly hands it to you.

“When director Kim called me and told me to come work for him, and I heard from a friend that you were working there, I knew I had to take the offer. So I moved here in a span of two weeks and asked to be transferred to the Cardio department.”

You don’t respond, still processing the information and staring down at the worn picture from years ago, with his arm thrown around your shoulders and his other hand holding up the million flower bundles he’d gotten from friends and family. He continues, “I’ve been waiting for a really long time, Y/N. Do you think you can give me a chance?”

Your mouth opens and closes, unable to formulate a response.

“T-taehyung, u-uh, I-i don’t know what to s-say.” You manage, “I-it’s a lot of information at once, I, I really had no idea.” You’re sure you sound breathless, but Taehyung is silent as you finish.

“I really need some time, Taehyung, to think about all of this. I-it’s been so long since I-i’ve been in a relationship and I want to think about this a little more.” You finally muster up the courage to look at him, and he’s looking at you with such affection that you’re relieved that he understands.

He nods quietly and seems to be deep in thought for a second. Looking back up at you, he reaches up and slides a hand under your chin and leans in to give you a peck on your forehead. “Okay,” he whispers, “Good night, Y/N.”

Winking, he walks away and you bid him goodnight and shut the door behind you with flushed cheeks and even more confused heart. But as you peel off the painful strappy heels you were wearing for the night, a voice pipes up from your dark living room, scaring the shit out of you.

“How was the date?”

You whip your head toward the dark living room, ready to punch whoever it was until you see Jeongguk’s body slumped over your couch.

“Fuck, Jeongguk, you scared the shit out of me.” You remove the rest of your shoes and turn on the lights as you make your way to the couch. But as the bright lights flash on in your living room, he groans and coils away from the white light, holding an arm in front of his eyes and whining.

You crinkle your nose as you near him, he reeks of alcohol and holds a soju bottle in his hand. Dimming the lights, you stand over him.

“Get up Jeon Jeongguk! We have an important meeting tomorrow, why are you getting shit drunk like this?! And coming to my apartment?! Ugh, get up.” You make a move to help him up from the couch, but he jostles you away and instead grabs your wrists and yanks you down to eye level with him.

“I heard everything he said,” he drawls, eyes bloodshot red, as if he was crying. “Are you gonna date him or not?!” His voice raises from his muttering tone to a more angry one. You frown and try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he grabs you even tigehter and glares at you.

“Look at me! Answer me, Y/N, what are you gonna do?”

You sigh, looking at him. “Jeongguk you’re hurting me.”

At the comment, he finally looks down at his tight fists around your wrists, seeing how the skin there is turning red from his grip. With a start, he lets go. You rub your wrists, sighing and plopping down on the couch next to him.

“I don’t know Jeongguk. I really don’t know… It’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship and I don’t know if I have the time and we have so much coming up for the department that–”

He cuts you off. “Y/N, do you like him?”

You pause, “Yeah, I guess. Or…I don’t know.”

He grumbles, “Figured. You liked him ever since med school.”

You frown at him. “No, I stopped having my crush on him when he left for America! Stop saying that, I didn’t even like him that much.”

He stared back at you, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen you fall for someone that hard.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “It’s because you’ve never seen me actually really like someone. All those flings were just…flings. Do you remember me actually, like, being in love?” you bite back.

He sits there, thinking hard. You cut him off before he can answer. “No, you haven’t. So stop asking me all these stupid questions and get in bed before I change my mind.”

You get up from the couch, and he grabs your wrist again, gentler this time. “Y/N, please don’t date him.” He looks like a little boy right now, hair curly like it used to be in college, and wearing a loose white shirt over blue jeans. He stares up at you with those big eyes and you feel your heart lurch, like the countless other times that it did.

You’d taken it as a sign to try and organize your relationship with him, to put some boundaries on this friendship you two had forged somehow through all the sex and favors. But as he looked up at you, you found yourself getting even more confused and torn between the two choices.

“Let’s go to sleep, Jeongguk.” You whisper softly, and he relents, letting you throw his arm around your shoulder and you stumble to your bedroom and drop him on your sheets.

He groans and lets you slide the jeans down his legs and the shirt over his head and cover him with the blankets. He doesn’t fall asleep until you wash yourself up and get into the other side of the bed, sidling up to you and spooning you from behind.

“Just stay with me? Yeah? ‘m so happy with you m’right now and don’t wann’ see ya with Kim Taehyung okay m’so just…” He trails off and falls asleep, breathing into your neck from behind.

You barely get any sleep that night.

You wake up the next morning to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Groaning, you look behind you to see Jeongguk still knocked out behind you. You throw his arm off from your waist.

You’d fallen in and out of sleep last night, unable to get some proper rest, but now someone was ringing your doorbell and disrupting the little sleep you’d managed to find.

You banged the door open, ready to chew out whoever it was who’d shown up at your place. But you’re shocked to see that its Taehyung, smiling at you with a coffee in one hand and a smaller bouquet of flowers in the other.

“Good morning, Y/N! You have a big presentation today, don’t you? I’m here to be your personal prep team!”

You gape at him, scrambling to cover up your appearance, trying to pick out the eye-boogers from your eyes and smooth down the crazy strands of hair from your bun at the same time. “T-Taehyung! I didn’t expect you here so early!”

He smiles, “Oh didn’t you hear me suggest to give you a ride?”

You shook your head, and he smiles, “Oh you must’ve zoned out or something. Anyway, here,” He puts the cup of coffee in your hand. “Can I put this inside?” He gestures to the purple tulips in his hand.

You panic for a second, because Jeongguk is still in your bed, and Taehyung would probably definitely see him if he came in, “U-uh, maybe now isn’t a good time? I f-forgot to clean and I don’t want you to see the mess–”

You’re cut off by a grumbling voice behind you, “Y/N, who the fuck is showing up at 7-fucking AM—” You whip your head around to see Jeongguk emerging from your bedroom into the doorway with only his boxers on.

He squints his eyes to see who the visitor and you can see how his expression changes immediately from one of confusion to a stoic one as he locks eyes with Taehyung. You whip your head around to see Taehyung’s face that was first filled with his boxy smile morph into one of confusion and then a challenging frown at the sight of Jeongguk in your apartment half naked.

You scramble to cover up Jeongguk, “Taehyung! I swear this isn’t what it looks like, Jeongguk got drunk and showed up and—”

Jeongguk cuts you off, grabbing your upper arm to stop you from pushing him back into the bedroom. “Why are you here, Taehyung?”

Taehyung frowns. “Why are you here, Jeon?”

Jeongguk spits back, “I crashed here last night. And you?”

“I came to pick up Y/N up for the presentation.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “Y/N and I are doing the presentation together. There’s no need to pick her up when we’ll just show up together.”

Taehyung quirks his eyebrow, “Well, she certainly didn’t mention that during our date last night. And I think it’s pretty rude for a grown man to show up drunk at a lady’s house in the middle of the night.”

Jeongguk lurches forward, fist clenched, “Don’t fucking tell me what to do—” And you yell, “Jeongguk!” and stop him, “Seriously, what’s wrong with you! Ugh just go get changed! Taehyung’s just being nice and offered to help me get to work so I can prep for the presentation. I don’t think you have a right to get mad when you’re the one who showed up drunk last night.”

He shifts his glare to you, and you glare at him right back. Groaning, he throws his hands up in the air with a growl, “This is bullshit.” He storms to your bedroom and grabs his clothes and puts them off and breezes past you two to your door and slams it shut on his way out.

You let out a breath and slump, “I’m sorry Taehyung, I don’t know why he’s being like this all of a sudden. He’s usually super chill but these days he’s just been…on a fuse?”

Taehyung visibly relaxes and walks over to your dining table where the roses from last night were carefully placed in a vase and puts the rest of the tulips into the bundle. “I have a feeling I know why he’s being so difficult, but it’s fine. Don’t worry and let’s just focus on the presentation for now, hm?” He sits down on the dining chair and shoots another boxy smile at you. “Go get ready, we’ll pick up some breakfast on the way!”

The rest of the morning is a breeze, and the presentation is a success, and you feel great until you see the glare that Jeongguk throws your direction before stalking back to his office. But Taehyung just gently places a reassuring hand on your lower back and guides you over for a picture with the director who’s lavishing praises on you and Jeongguk for the presentation.

Taehyung drops you off again that night, walking you up to your doorstep. You invite him in for some tea, and you sit at the dining table.

“Thanks so much, Tae, for being there for me today. It helped a lot.” you smiled at him, and his face split up into a grin.

He chuckled, “Anytime, Y/N.”

You lower your gaze, shuffling your feet, “I’m really sorry about what happened this morning, Taehyung, i-it’s really complicated and I-i—”

He cuts you off, “I’m willing to understand, Y/N. But I think I have a good idea of what’s going on and I just want you to know that I really want this to work between us,” he gestures to the space between you two, “But that might mean you have to let go of him… It doesn’t necessarily make me so comfortable knowing that the girl I like is working alongside someone else who has strong feelings for her and a complicated history…but I’m willing to ignore it and focus on us, if you are too.”

You stand there, processing what he said until one thing catches your ear. “Wait, what? Jeongguk has strong feelings for me? What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighs, taking a sip of his tea before standing up. “I think it’s time for me to go home now, it’s really late.” Clearing his throat, he stands up and pauses in the doorway as you shuffle quietly behind him. “Just, take the weekend to really organize your thoughts, yeah?”

You nod, biting your lip. He reaches out and uses his thumb on your chin to tug out your lip from between your teeth. “And don’t do that,” he mumbles, grinning, “or you’ll regret it.” Smiling at your blush, he leans in and lands a soft peck on your cheek before bidding you good night and shutting your door behind him.

You’re still in some short of shock as you juggle the realization you’ve come to. Taehyung had just told you that Jeongguk had strong feelings towards you, something you’d never even thought possible for the guy you’d seen get his heart broken and swore to never date seriously again.

Sighing, you cleared the table and went to bed with a headache, trying to get some sleep when your phone rang. Groaning, you rolled over and saw the screen flashing with your mom’s number.

“Hi mom, why are you calling so late at night?” You mumble into the receiver.

“Oh no, sweetie did I wake you? It’s only midnight but your father is out with his friends and I’m waiting for him to come home. How are you doing honey?”

You sigh, throwing an arm over your eyes, “Everything is just as it was. Work is work, and life is life.”

She chuckles, “And how is Jeongguk?”

You roll your eyes, “Stop asking about him, mom. Jeez, you’re in love with him aren’t you?”

She sighs dreamily, “How do you expect me to not ask about my future son-in-law?”

You groan, sitting up. You mull over what happened earlier, Taehyung’s voice sounding in your head. Organize your thoughts.

Sighing, you muss your hair before speaking, “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t get mad. To be honest,” you pause, and she encourages you to continue, “I-I never really dated Jeongguk…I just…he’s a friend and he offered to help me when I told him that your friend was trying to get a blind date for me. You know I really didn’t want to get matched up with Mrs. Lee’s lawyer son and so, one lie led to another and…” You trailed off.

She hums, chuckling. “Ohhh sweetie, don’t worry.”

You perk up. “You’re not mad?”

She laughs, “I know you like the back of my hand. You thought I wouldn’t notice when you lie?”

You gawk. “W-wait, you knew?! This whole time?!”

“Yes honey, of course I did. I just played along because I knew Mrs. Lee would never relent about setting you up with her son until you either went on the date or showed up with a boyfriend suddenly. That’s why I invited all my friends that day Jeongguk showed up, so they could go gossip to her and tell her what a great boyfriend you had.” She giggles, “Which is why she stopped bugging us about setting you up with that lawyer son of hers.”

She laughs at your silence, “I never really liked Yugyeom for you anyway. A little too sweet for you and your cynicism that takes after your father. If Yugyeom ever met your father, he’ll probably go home crying. But your father adores Jeongguk because they went fishing together that one time.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Oh my god my mom is the sneakiest mom in the world.”

She laughs, “You need to be a better actress, I could tell you were lying immediately. But, Jeongguk, he wasn’t acting.”

“What? What do you mean?”

She sighs, groaning at your ignorance. “Y/N, honey, there’s something called a mother’s instinct. And we just know, when our children are lying, sad, or hiding something. But let me tell you that the boy Jeongguk was definitely not acting that day.”

You rack your mind for memories of the day months ago when you brought Jeongguk over to the restaurant to meet your mom. She’d showed up with five of her friends who squealed and gossiped about Jeongguk, surprising the both of you.

“Mom,” you hissed, “What are these people? It was just supposed to be you, me and him!”

She glances around your shoulder to stare at Jeongguk who’s currently awkwardly fending off the other ladies’ questions about his occupation, family, weight, height, and skincare routine.

“He’s one fine piece of man, reminds me of your father when I first met him!” You groan. “Where’d you get him?”

“Mom, I was gonna tell you all of that during the dinner, but how could you bring all your friends?”

She waves you off as she drags you back to the table. “It’s fine, honey. I want to talk to Jeongguk, not you!”

Jeongguk stands up and greets her as she takes a seat across from him.

“So, Jeongguk, how’d you meet my daughter?”

He smiles, immediately dropping the awkwardness and stiffness that was in his posture while he was talking to your mom’s friends. Leaning back and throwing an arm around your chair, he looks at you fondly and responds smoothly, “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I went to college and med school with Y/N. And then we went our separate ways for residencies and internships, and then met again at Seoul hospital.” He recites everything well, just like you’d told him to say on your ride to the restaurant.

She smiles, and her friends giggle and squeal some more, throwing comments at you like, “Wow, Y/N, you really caught a good one!” “He’s a doctor too? So handsome!”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and just smile politely at them. One lady says, “So what do you like so much about Y/N?”

You freeze, as you don’t recall ever telling him what to say regarding this. But Jeongguk takes it like a champ and sidles closer to you and moves his hand around your shoulder to take your hand on the tabletop and stare into your eyes. You meet his gaze with a panicked one, but he squeezes your hand before continuing.

“I remember I fell for Y/N in college, and liked her for years after that into med school, but I was way too much of a wimp to actually tell her and ask her out. But then we went our separate ways after med school and I realized that I felt so empty without her, so when I came back and saw her at the hospital, I knew I had to ask her out or else I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

He shoots a smile at you and you feel as if time slows, the way he’s talking makes you feel fluttering in your belly, and your cheeks heat up at the intense gaze he has on you.

Without wavering his eyes, he continues, “I love Y/N because she’s so strong, because she challenges me to become a better man so I can take care of her. She doesn’t back down to anyone or anything, which is why she’s so successful at the hospital we’re at, but she’s also really genuine and kind. Being a doctor suits her perfectly.” You’re still gazing at him in surprise, shocked at how well he was acting.

He breaks the gaze to shoot a charming smile to the similarly astonished ladies in front of you. “And also, I think Y/N looks the prettiest when she’s in her scrubs and performing surgeries.”

The ladies squeal some more and for the rest of the dinner, you try and calm your fluttering heartbeat while Jeongguk continues to charm them with funny stories and flattering talk. He pays the check for the table, a hefty sum that you try to pay him back for but he shuts you up with some kisses when you get to his house.

Your mom’s words break you out of the memory. “Y/N, are you listening?”

You blink, “Sorry what were you saying?”

She laughs. “I said, Jeongguk really, really likes you. He wasn’t acting during that dinner. I know. And you like him back, don’t you?”

You sputter, “W-what? Like him back? Pfft, no. He’s just a friend!”

She groans, “Y/N, you stupid child, who do you take after? You’re not in elementary school anymore. A man doesn’t stick by a woman’s side like that at your age unless he likes you or he’s horny.”

“Mom!”

She laughs, “Trust me, I know. Your father wouldn’t leave my side until I told him I’d give him a chance. And it was during that date that I saw another side of him that made me fall head over heels.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Okay, okay mom. I don’t want to hear about you and dad. Anyways, never mind. I don’t know, I just need some time to think about all of this. It’s a lot.”

“I know, honey. But let me just tell you one thing, as your mother. Love isn’t just a fleeting feeling, and sometimes you won’t notice it, because it’s been there all along. Sometimes for others, it’s like a rampant fire, that you can’t ignore. Love at first sight, they call it? But for some, it’s like a soothing wind, that you don’t realize you have and need, until its gone. That was like me and your father, I never saw him that way but then all of a sudden, it was there. He was like a river, always unchanging and in the same place, I just had to find my way to him and realize that I loved him back.”

You nod, the sleep overcoming you along with a headache you knew you’d have to take pills for in the morning. “Yeah, thanks mom.”

“Good night honey, I love you.”

You reply, and hang up. Groaning, you flop on the bed, thoughts running miles per minute through your mind. There was no way Jeongguk had feelings for you, like your mother and Taehyung said. Sighing, you let yourself go to a restless sleep.

The next few days pass in a blur, as you end up spending a lot more time with Taehyung. It’s mostly because you’re bored and Jeongguk ignores your texts and pretends not to see you when you pass eachother in the halls. Even during the staff meetings, he sits next to a pretty nurse who literally almost faints when he grins at her and asks if the seat next to her is open.

You grumpily take your normal spot in the back of the room, and cross your arms, glaring daggers into Jeongguk’s head. It was so weird for him to be acting like this to you, when you did literally nothing wrong. He was the one who showed up to your house drunk off his ass and almost punched Taehyung and now you were the one feeling guilty for no reason!

You hear your name being called and when you turn your head, you see Taheyung walking up the steps with a grin on his face and two coffees in hand. You wave in response and glance around to see other nurses and doctors whispering, asking each other if you two were dating and whatnot, and your eyes settle on Jeongguk.

He’s turned around in his seat, ignoring the chatter of the nurse who’s talking his ear off and getting handsy on his arms, glaring at you, then Taehyung, and then back at you. When you don’t back down from the glare, he huffs and turns back to the nurse, throwing an arm around her chair to scoot her closer. You can literally hear her panties dropping from the back of the room.

Rolling your eyes, you smile at Taehyung who’s dropping into the seat next to you and handing you the coffee. You thank him as the lights dim and the presentation starts. You immediately feel your eyelids dropping as the sweet, but old director begins droning on about something you don’t care about.

But Taehyung stays awake, unlike Jeongguk who’d usually make some jokes bout the director and maybe let you fall asleep on his shoulder. He lets you drop your head onto the table and silently watches the powerpoint, attentive to the information.

Sighing, you become bored out of your mind and take out your phone to see that a notification has already popped up. Jeongguk was texting you.

[From: JJK]: Goody two shoes Tae not keeping you company?

[To: JJK]: shut up, says the one who’s been a dick to me the past two weeks

[from: JJK] says the one who’s been a dick since day one

[To: JJK]: touche

You pause before writing the next one.

[to: JJK] Can we maybe, meet up tonight? I want to talk about what happened

He takes a bit to respond, but does nevertheless.

[from: JJK]: fine, tonight at your place after my shift.

You agree with him and shut your phone as the director’s presentation comes to an end and everyone in the lecture hall is released for lunch. Taehyung walks with you to the cafeteria and grabs a tray for you, while you go to the restroom. When you come back, he’s already seated and has gotten all your food for you.

Thanking him, you sit down, ready to chow down, when you see what’s on your plate. It was basically all greens, fruits, and salads with no dressing. You sigh, “Taehyung, why did you give me food that my food eats?”

He chuckles, “Y/N, you’ve been looking really tired lately so you need to stock up on your veggies more! Here, spinach is really good for that.” He forks some more spinach leaves onto your plate. You smile weakly, shoving a leaf into your mouth. “But I want some pizza, and they even have triple chocolate cake!”

He chuckles at your complains and just shakes his head. “Until you’re feeling better, I think it’s best for you to stick to the healthy stuff!” You groan and fork the rest of the horrible meal into your mouth as you gaze sadly at the other members of the hospital putting big pizza slices and hamburger buns onto their plates.

The rest of your day goes similarly disappointingly, as you get two patients who are absolutely the worst, demanding things from you and refusing to listen to you. You roll your eyes and grit your teeth through the process, helping the nurse escort out the patients whilst fighting the urge to jab the man’s balls in with your fist.

All you want to do is blow off some steam, which you would usually do with Jeongguk in a closet or a VIP room, but you catch him flirting with another nurse and huff as you storm into your office to grab a nap.

And later, you tell Taehyung you want some time alone, and drive home yourself in a long while. You take the familiar street adjacent to yours onto Jeongguk’s driveway, shutting off the engine, and making your way up to his apartment.

You use the spare key you have to open his door, and you see him in the kitchen, preparing something. He looks up at you in shock, “Y/N! What the, you got off early?”

You nod, shutting the door. “I didn’t waste any time after director let me go home early. I really wanted to talk to you.”

You plop down on his counter, across from him. You can see that he’s preparing a homemade steak burger and your mouth waters. “I-I’m not sure what happened, like that day is so fuzzy to me and I’m so confused why we’re fighting but I don’t really wanna fight with you and it’s just been really hard at work and I just need my friend with me and–”

He cuts you off. “Woah woah, relax. One at a time.”

You sigh, “Jeongguk, whatever it was that day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. You just looked like you were gonna punch the daylights out of Taehyung so I had to intervene and it just escalated from there.”

He sighs, turning his attention back to the steak. “Y/N, that’s not why I was mad.”

You frown, “then why’d you yell at me?”

“You really have no idea?”

You shake your head.

“Y/N, I got mad because I heard everything Taehyung said to you that night. And when I asked you if you were gonna date him or not you said you didn’t know.”

“Wait, why would me not knowing make you mad?”

He shakes his head, reaching over to turn off the stove. “You’re really dense aren’t you?”

You frown even deeper, getting irritated. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me? Just fucking spit it out, I’m so sick of everyone tiptoeing around me. What’s going on?”

He seems to get a bit riled up at your attitude. “Y/N, just open your fucking eyes and see what’s going on. Why else would I get mad at you not being able to decide between me and Taehyung?”

You throw your hands up in the air. “What are you even saying? I never said I was choosing either one of you, it’s whether I decide to date Taehyung or not!”

“You understand that if you date him, this,” he gestures to you and him, “Is no longer happening?”

“Jeongguk, we can still stay friends even if I date him! Is this about the sex?” You huff.

“No, Y/N. It’s not about the fucking sex,” he grits out. He turns around and clenches his fist. “I don’t care about the fucking sex. I care that all I am is just a friend to you.”

You freeze, and you can hear your heart thundering with anger, and the clock ticking in the living room.

“W-what? Jeongguk, what are you saying?”

He turns around to you, fists unclenching and staring you down with a look less intense than before. “Y/N, I like you. No, I love you. Ever since college, ever since you offered to help me in organic chem. That’s why I haven’t dated anyone since.”

You gawk, “J-jeongguk, what the fuck? Why are you telling me this now? It’s been years and I-I thought you were never gonna date again after the breakup you had in med school…?”

He shook his head. “You idiot, that was just an excuse because I was an idiot and couldn’t fess up to my feelings. She dumped me because she noticed that I liked you, and I swore to never date someone again until I got over you.”

He paused, stepping around the counter to come closer to you. “But I never got that chance.”

You’re still sitting on the stool in shock, unable to process the words he was saying. So it was true, what Taehyung said, what your mother said, what Jeongguk had confessed the day he met your mother. You were beyond shocked, but you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach intensify as he stood a couple feet away from you, gazing at you with such longing and sadness.

“Y/N,” He whispered, coming close to you enough that his breath tickled your cheeks. “I love you. L-let’s stop this friends with benefits thing, I-I just want to be yours. I don’t care about the sex or the co-leader thing, l-let’s just be Y/N and Jeongguk, dating, in love. That’s all I want.”

You close your eyes, the tears spilling over now. You sigh, “I-I don’t know Jeongguk, it’s been so long, and Taehyung too…”

At his name, Jeongguk tenses. “Do you like him, Y/N?”

You shake your head, “I really don’t know.”

He growls at your vague answer, gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Do you feel in love when you’re with him? Does he make you feel happier than I do?” He glares hard into your red-rimmed ones, and you rack your mind for an answer. You think to the memories of lounging on the couch shoving junk food into your mouth as you complain about your work day and Jeongguk taking it all in like a champ.

You remember the nights you’d come home crying because there was a board member at the hospital who kept harassing you and using his position as an excuse to outrightly push you around; Jeongguk had ravished you that night, leaving countless hickeys on your neck, and for some reason that director had called in sick for the next two weeks and then was fired a few days later.

You remember what your mom told you nights before, that love was where comfort was, maybe. And you think of Tae, how he’d had all the right reasons but the wrong actions. He’d taken you to a fancy restaurant for your first date, when Jeongguk always knew you preferred all you can eat barbecues. Taehyung tried to feed you healthy things to keep you energized, but Jeongguk always was willing to split a huge french fry with you or go visit that new boba cafe near the hospital. Taehyung never kissed you on the lips, trying to “save it for the real relationship,” he’d told you one time. But Jeongguk knew that you didn’t care for those formalities, that you now considered yourself much too old and jaded and impatient for all the teenager fantasies.

And as you remember, who’d been there for you all these years, you shake your head in response. “No, no he doesn’t.” And as you break out in sobs, Jeongguk cradles your head and leans in, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

Your hands scrabble for something to hold onto, settling into his t shirt near his sides, as he holds your cheeks in his. His lips move furiously over yours, contrasting the gentle movement of his thumbs swiping the tears away from your cheeks. He moves his tongue with yours, gently stroking your lips and your mouth. You begin to feel the desire running through your veins. Jeongguk always managed to make you feel things you felt for no one else.

He whispers into the kiss, “Just let me love you.”

“Jeongguk,” you manage to whisper between kisses, and he relents, hiking his hands underneath your thighs and lifting you into his arms. “Bedroom,” You mutter, and let him carry you into his room and settle you onto the covers of his bed. He just drops you down and settles his weight over you, elbows near your head and kisses you again, going even slower.

When you moan out of impatience, he moves down your jaw, hungrily biting at the skin before nuzzling behind your ear, breaking out another series of breathless whispers of his name. He works slowly this time, unlike all the quickies you both had in the hospital, and slowly kisses his way down your body, unbuttoning your blouse with snail like movements.

You sigh and fist your hands into the sheets as he lingers on your chest, gently cupping your breasts and running this thumbs over the sensitive nipples. He lowers his mouth, tongue laving over the collarbones and valley between your breasts before moving aside and rolling the nipple around in his mouth. As you moan and encourage him to go on, he moves down to kiss the sensitive underside of your breast before working on the other one, as your hands come down to fist in his hair.

When you tug, trying to get him to go faster, he groans and moves lover, dipping his tongue into your bellybutton and grinning when you let out a giggle at the tickling feeling. His large hands are splayed over your waist, holding you down as his fingers work to slide the jeans slowly off your legs. Getting up on his knees, he looks down at your naked figure for a second, mouth hanging open at the way you look up at him in between your legs, your chest covered in his kisses, mouth swollen, and pupils blown wide from lust. You’re panting but unable to say anything as he stares at you to the point where you turn red and make a move to cover yourself from his hot stare.

But he murmurs, “No, don’t hide it. I just realize…I’ve never told you how beautiful you are. How much I love your body, how wet you get for me, how you say my name,” he grabs your leg and puts it on his shoulder, turning his head to run his lips over the bone of your ankle and down the curve of your calf.

“How your skin is so soft…” He moves his tongue down your inner thigh, and his hands move to spread your legs for him, leaning down to lay on the bed to become eye-level with your core. “How you smell like heaven,” he nuzzles his face on your thighs, and when you moan, he kisses the juncture between your core and your hip.

“Jeongguk, please, hurry.” You push him, but he just holds your hips down and does the same on your other leg.

He finally drops down to his stomach and hikes both your thighs over his shoulders, and his hands come up to cradle your hips, “And fuck, how you taste so good.”

With that he finally lowers his warm mouth on your core, tongue coming up to swipe at your slit before fully covering it and sucking hard. You let out a shout that dissolves into a breathless moan of his name and your fingers thread through his locks while the other hand fists on the pillow underneath your head.

He rolls your clit on his tongue, lapping up all of your wetness and moving his muscle up and down your slit. When you tug harder on his head he moans into you, the vibrations making you cringe away from the surge of pleasure that rushes through your body. When your hips move away from his mouth, he tugs you down harder against him, and your hands scrabble for something to grab onto. He moves his hands up to grab yours, fingers interlacing with yours as he locks eyes with you from below.

You almost come right there and then, when you lock eyes with him between your legs, as he moans into your core and continues to run his tongue over your skin. You croak out, “Jeongguk, ‘m gonna come,” and gasp. But he doesn’t let go and just growls out, “hold it, Y/N,” giving you a hard look from between your legs.

You drop your head back onto the pillow, moaning hoarsely and trying hard to focus on not coming too soon, thighs clenching around his head, and your fingers digging into his hands. You chant, “Please please please, Jeongguk, please let m’ come, oh my go-, please,” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel yourself drawing nearer and nearer to the edge.

Finally, when it seems like you can’t hold it anymore, he gives a hard lick to your center before groaning, “Come Y/N.” And you let out a shout as a incredibly hard orgasm rushes through your veins. Your mind goes blank as all you can focus on is the feeling of Jeongguk’s hot mouth on your core, and the grip he has on your hands. Your moan cuts off into silence as you come so intensely you don’t let out a sound until you’re cringing and whimpering from the oversensitivity from his ministrations.

He gives you one last swipe and moves his kisses to your hipbone, caressing your skin as you calm down and works his way up your body again, caging you in with elbows on your sides.

You’re spent, and you hold his arms for support as you tiredly look up at him. He’s so beautiful that you just lay there in awe at him. Your eyes rake over his features, the huge eyes that crinkle at your disheveled state, the beautiful mouth that always either made you moan or laugh, the nose that he wasn’t too fond of but you deemed incredibly cute, and the jawline that you’d kissed countless times.

But this time, as you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down for a desperate kiss, it’s different. The kiss isn’t rushed, not a clash of teeth and tongue, but just a simple and gentle caress of your lips against his. His hand comes to cradle your head while another gently rubs the dip in your waist. He lowers his weight onto you, and you welcome the warm heaviness with a sigh, until you notice the hard bulge pressing against your thigh.

You wordlessly kiss him harder, hands unwrapping from him to wander over his broad chest and then run your fingers over his abs. His breath hitches when you wander too close to his crotch, and using the moment where he’s caught off guard, you flip him over and settle your hips over his, grinding down onto his jeans.

He moans and you slip your hands underneath his shirt and move it off of him, and you lean down to kiss him, tongue running over his mouth and wrestling with his. You move and kiss down his neck, biting gently down on the juncture that makes him moan, and then scrap your nails down his chest as you kiss down his torso. When you get to the hem of his pants, he grabs your wrist gently.

“No,” he murmurs, “this is about you tonight,” and he quickly removes his own pants before sitting up and guiding you over his length. It’s red and incredibly hard, and you resist the urge to lean down and wrap your lips around it. You instead circle your arms around his shoulders, as he holds your waist and guides you onto his cock.

Once you sink down on him, you both let out a simultaneous moan. He lets you get used to him first before lifting your waist and letting you drop slowly down on his length. At the euphorious feeling, you sigh and begin to rock your hips back and forth, panting into his shoulder as you press your chest against his, your soft nipples rubbing against his harder chest.

He groans as you squeeze your muscles around him, gripping your waist even tighter and stopping you from moving. Through gritted teeth, he murmurs, “Don’t do that or I’m gonna cum too soon.” You nod and relax around him, letting him move again at his pace.

You lean back and stare into his eyes, and his fucked out face makes you even wetter. He’s looking up at you sitting in his lap, his pupils blown at the sight of you, and his mouth panting and moaning as his lids are heavy and the sides of his hair are stuck to his head with sweat. His neck is covered in little red marks because of your bites and his eyes are trained on you and only you. His hands come up to cradle your cheeks, and he leans in to cover your mouth with his, lips gently sliding over yours and swallowing your moans.

He whispers against your lips, “I love you so much, so fucking much,” over and over as he turns you and switches your positions so that he is crouching over you and your legs are still wrapped around his waist. Grabbing your hands and interlocking them over your head, he rolls his hips against your, ripping moans from you as he takes it slow and works on his downstroke to rub against your spot that makes you arch your torso up into him.

He hovers his face centimeters from yours and stares deep into your eyes and you see yourself in his irises, and you find yourself remembering how Jeongguk had been there for you since the beginning, how he was like the home, the river that was always there where you left him, always waiting and always willing to bring you into his arms when you needed him. It had been years, since you guys had started the benefits between you, and you remembered how he’d been patient with you through everything and often muttered sweet things into your ear as you came. But now you knew it was real, that he truly did feel those things with you and meant every single thing.

And with that realization, you feel the emotions and the pleasure surge up in you all at once, combined with Jeongguk’s calculated thrusts and his unwavering gaze on your face, you’re hurtling towards the edge again a lot faster than you’d expected. You clutch his hands tighter and lips fall open in a gasp and you let out a mix of a moan and an, “Oh my god Jeongguk I-I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much—” as you orgasm around him.

He lets out a loud moan at the sudden tightness, not expecting your confession or your orgasm at all and follows soon after, never looking away from you as he comes. He rides out both of your highs before settling his weight on top of you and panting into your chest.

He laughs, the shaking making you wince at the oversensitivity and he quickly apologizes before sliding out of you and padding over to the restroom to grab a towel to clean you up. You lie there, exhausted as you revel in the aftermath of what had just happened.

He comes back, with his boxers now on his hips and cleans up you gently before settling next to you and cradling you into him. He kisses your forehead and hugs you tight, “So does this mean you’re finally gonna date me?”

You giggle into his chest, unable to actually respond. You just shyly nod into his chest and let him chuckle against you and hold your body closer. “I love you so fucking much Y/N.”

Taehyung chuckles, sipping his coffee. He fidgets with the cup as he mulls over your words.

You cut in before he can respond, “Taehyung, you’re an awesome guy and I really really did think that it could work but I want to choose something for myself, for once. And I know that this decision is going to make me happy.”

He smiles up at you, with a sad look in his eyes. “I’m glad you chose what made you happy. That’s all I want for you.” Smiling, you reach over and pat the arm thats resting on the table. “Thank you Taehyung, I really think you’re a great person to know.”

He smiles. “Yeah yeah, I won’t make it awkward for you. Just treat me how you used to before all this happened. But,” he reminds you as he stands up, “if he ever hurts you, know that I’ll beat him up and I’ll be waiting. I’m gonna work out so I can actually take him in a fight.”

You giggle and stand up with him, and bid him goodbye as you walk over the car where Jeongguk is waiting. As he closes the door after you and gets into the drivers seat, you watch him drive carefully down the familiar street towards home.

And as he laces his fingers in between yours, you smile and watch him, seeing the future and so much more with him.

“Are you ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, where at?”

“Guess,” he grins at you.

“Korean barbecue?” You grin.

“Exactly. Ready to get shit faced?”

“Always.”

thank u for reading! pls read my story talk about this fic! :)

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Text

Helping Hands

Chapter Fourteen: Near At Hand

With Lewis’s advice in mind (“Don’t overwhelm the man with big gestures”) Tony had asked, impulsively, what Bucky wanted to do for a date. After they’d stopped making out on his workstation like horny teenagers. Which had involved Tony having to adjust his slacks a few times, because… yeah.

Despite not liking the phrase, Tony had to admit, Lewis was right. Tony was slumming it. He’d never dated so far outside of his own social circles. Not that most of his best people didn’t come from less than extravagant backgrounds. Lewis herself had worked at a pet shelter, and Pepper had been the executive assistant for a CEO cretin who’d been sexually harassing her. Of course, Ty Stone was a paparazzi and gossip-monger, with a side-order of high-end blackmailer, so obviously people from all walks of life had an equal opportunity to be assholes.

But mostly, Tony had dated in his social circle, or close to it. Business moguls and the daughters of industry barons, actors and politicians’ sons. A few models. The lead singer of a Top 40 band. And the people, like Ty, who hung on the edge of that crowd. People whose idea of a spectacular date included jetting to Paris or walking the red carpet or blowing a hundred grand in a casino, chasing Lady Luck.

Bucky had turned adorably shy and asked if they might go to dinner and catch a show on Broadway and had apologized as if the idea was too extravagant, too expensive.

Tony sent off a quick text to Pepper, asking what shows SI currently had tickets for -- they kept a small bank of seats on reserve at most of the major theaters for the purposes of wining and dining important vendors and partners, or as rewards for enterprising employees -- and discovered that Bucky had never actually been to a live Broadway performance in his life, which just seemed a shame. Concerts, yeah -- and Tony teased him into admitting that he’d been in a band himself, back in high school, though obviously losing an arm made playing guitar a little difficult -- and a few grade-school plays where Steve had played second Octopus, but not one of the full-overboard high theatrics spectacles, like Cats or Hamilton.

“Wicked, Cirque du Soleil, or Hamilton?” Tony asked, as Pepper returned his text. “Oh, and seats at Balthazar’s for dinner, excellent.”

[Read more here, mobile users be aware]

Bucky blinked. “How did you do that?”

Tony waggled his phone. “I have a personal assistant for a reason. And that reason is to make my life easier and save more time for sciencing. Or, you know, partying. Same thing, really. Just I try to science with less booze. It’s safer.”

“Hmm,” Bucky answered, then leaned over and kissed Tony’s cheek. “Thanks. What time should I be ready?”

Tony checked the itinerary Pepper had updated for him as soon as they were done texting. “Dinner’s at 6, so, 5:30?”

“Sounds great,” Bucky said.

“I don’t get another kiss?” Tony asked, plaintive.

“After the date, Tony,” Bucky teased. “Wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy, would I?”

While Tony tried to pick his way through that minefield, Bucky left the lab, the traces of his laughter hanging in the air.

Tony walked into the living room and Bucky stood up from where he was lounged against the couch. For someone who’d never owned a suit before -- his dress uniform did not count, Bucky had protested -- he wore it well. James Bond in training.

Bucky also apparently had two entirely different personalities. There was the angry-sullen Bucky that he’d given to Christine for the photo shoot, expressions that made it look like he was considering the shortest route to cutting your heart out, and then there was this one. The date-Bucky, which Tony had nearly forgotten in the last, heart-rending, weeks. The one with the wide, delighted, set-the-room-on-fire smile and dancing blue eyes and quick, loose-limbed gestures. The one who’d kissed Tony stupid and then admitted to being completely overwhelmed.

And damn, he looked fine in that suit. Tony wanted nothing more than to take Bucky out and show him off, then bring him home and peel him out of that suit. Slowly. With great attention to detail.

Pump the brakes, Stark, he told himself.

“Looking good, Mr. Stark,” Wanda said. She and Steve were playing a cut-throat game of Uno at the coffee table, both of them playing two separate hands like they were professional card-sharks. She was wearing pyjama pants with kittens on them and the new Vision tee, a gold diamond with a pair of cybernetic blue eyes just underneath; the album name they were going with was for the title track, “Didn’t See That Coming.” J and Pietro had started cutting some of the initial tracks yesterday.

Tony had, of course, grown up wearing suits and therefore carried himself much like he did any other day, with calm assurance. He gave Wanda a quick grin. “You’re the absolute height of fashion, yourself, there, kid.”

Wanda held up one hand, palm out, to shield Steve from the middle finger she flicked at Tony. Tony cackled, delighted. Wanda, he liked. She was unflappable, affectionate, and absolutely and brutally honest. Bucky had called her his Jiminy Cricket once. Even if Tony hadn’t liked her on his own, getting on Wanda’s good side was absolutely essential to keeping Bucky happy. Wanda made it easy to like her, though.

Wanda played a Skip, Reverse, Skip, Skip, and called Uno, then said, “Hey, the band wants to know if they can come over after rehearsal and chill. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Tony said, “but no drinking if you’re going in the hot-tub or the pool, okay?”

Wanda rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not an idiot.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, well, sometimes I am, so…”

“Steve,” Bucky said, waiting until his son turned all the way around, “you be good for your cousin, yeah? And pretend to eat a vegetable with dinner. Just humor me, okay?”

Steve pouted as if the idea of eating something that wasn’t chicken nuggets or hot dogs was the worst punishment ever. “Okay.” He got up and hugged his father, rumpling Bucky’s blue shirt. “Are you and Mr. Tony going on a date?”

“That’s the plan,” Bucky said. He scooped the kid up and kissed his cheek noisily. Steve made a disgusted face and wiped his face off with his sleeve. “God, you weigh a ton, kid. You’re gonna be all grown up before I know it.”

“Yeah?” Steve perked up. “When that happens, can I have your bike?”

“No, you may not,” Bucky said. “If you’re really good, though, I might let you tie your shoes all by yourself.”

“Goodie.” The seven-year-old’s sarcasm was point-on. “Can I brush my own teeth, too?”

“Don’t get too wild and crazy,” Bucky cautioned. He put Steve back on the floor and the boy ran off to finish the card game, crowing with triumph as he played two back-to-back Draw Fours. Wanda groaned and filled her hand with cards.

Tony offered his arm, a strange pain in his chest as he watched Bucky interact with his son. “Shall we go? Pepper will murder me if we miss our reservations.”

“Has she, ever, actually murdered anyone?” Bucky wondered aloud.

“That’s classified,” Tony said, deadpan. Bucky laughed, throwing his head back and his bangs fell into his face. Tony allowed himself the tiniest bit of hope that maybe, this time, the date wouldn’t end in complete disaster.

Tony had literally seen life and death decisions made with less deliberation than Bucky was exhibiting, choosing between the lamb rack and the coq au vin. Tony put his own menu aside to watch Bucky agonize, not being able to keep from smiling. He was reminding himself not to overwhelm the poor guy; he pinched off his first suggestion, which was to just get both. His second suggestion was that he get one, let Tony get the other, and they could share.

His next several impulses were worse, and continued to nag at him; Bucky made him want to spend money, not to impress, but because Bucky was so delighted and amazed by stuff Tony was so used to that it was both painful and intensely fun. For just a moment, Tony held the patronizing thought that this was why people had children -- to watch someone else experience a thing for the first time in some way that brought the joy back.

Tony started his little mental file; he always had one these days, ever since he’d totally fucked up with Pepper, forgetting her birthday and then bringing her strawberries (which she was allergic to, because damn it, he was a genius, but he could only remember strawberries, and not why they were connected). He’d learned his lesson, finally. If he paid attention, made the little details as important as math and science and engineering… that made a difference.

Or, so the theory went. Since he and Pepper had split, he hadn’t actually put the theory into practice. Consider this a field test, he told himself. From just dinner, he’d learned Bucky preferred beer to wine, and beach-drinks to beer, preferably with frozen fruit and a rim of sugar. (Note to self: dig out the blender) Also, that he thought calling french fries “pomme frites” was pretentious as hell, and that he would absolutely not eat the last piece of bread in the basket.

And that he was pretty. Tony had known that already, of course, but he couldn’t quite get over it, kept trying to be casual and failing miserably. So very pretty.

Bucky had noticed, of course, that Tony was watching him. He looked up at Tony from under those long lashes with eyes that were the color of stormclouds. Bucky worried at his lip with his teeth whenever he was thinking and sometimes when he was talking, he’d rest his pinkie against the corner of his lip, which was damn distracting.

Bucky also sat with his back to a wall and had the higher situational awareness that put Tony in mind of some of his more fervent bodyguards, especially the ones who’d been around when Tony was younger and went through what seemed like an absolute epidemic of being kidnapped and held for ransom. Apparently, a bunch of really third-rate bad guys had thought that Howard might be willing to part with some cash for his son back. Hadn’t worked out for them, very well. Tony’d gotten pretty good about escaping from restraints and picking locks and building bombs out of kitchen supplies. At least tonight, Tony hoped that high-alert wouldn’t be necessary for anything more than not having a mouthful of food when the waiter came over to ask if everything was to their satisfaction.

The other thing Tony learned was that Bucky had impossibly long legs and that he sprawled when he sat down, legs carelessly extended under the table. When Tony had kicked him under the table the first time, Tony had apologized and drawn his feet back. Usually playing footsie under the table wasn’t a thing for Tony; at his very tallest (with the inserts in his shoes) was about 5’7”, so there was ample space for Tony’s legs and just about anyone else’s. Bucky, however, had stretched out just a little further, hooked the toe of his shoe around the back of Tony’s ankle and dragged his foot forward a few inches, then pressed his calf against Tony’s.

That little point of contact, unseen and secret and affectionate, was doing things to Tony.

The only word that Tony could find to describe his mental situation was captivated. Or maybe smitten.

Balthazar’s was a popular place, and Tony was unsurprised when his attendance got some attention. A few tech-fans had come over to ask -- very nicely -- if they could get selfies with the man who’d invented their phones, and Tony was happy enough to oblige them.

And Bucky spotted Scarlett Johansson with her current husband, the advertising mogul, Romain Dauriac. He stared for a long time, almost bordering on rude, but not for the reasons Tony thought. “You know, Clint said so, but I didn’t quite believe him.” Bucky scrolled through his phone pictures and eventually came up with one of Clint with his wife, who did bear a startling resemblance to the actress, except Nat had red hair and ScarJo was usually blonde.

Dinner was good, and dessert was better. Bucky insisted on feeding Tony a few spoonfuls of his creme brulee, which was actually quite good, but the sharing was better. In the manner of social media and hashtags, Tony and Bucky were a trending topic on Twitter before they left the restaurant. Not shocking, but Tony texted Happy to come pick them up at the door. Even so, one of the rag-journalists grabbed Bucky’s arm before they could make a clean getaway.

Those stormcloud eyes went flat and angry at the touch, and Bucky shook the man’s hand off forcefully. No, bad, Tony thought. Do not assault the paparazzi. Not that Tony had room to talk, really, but still. Darcy would kill them both.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark,” one of the gathered reporters yelled, “is it true that --”

“Oh, come on, now Matthew,” Tony said, giving the man his best press-grin, “you know that nothing anyone says about me is true.”

“Or everything is,” one of the other reporters shot back.

“Well, I’ll just leave that to you to figure out,” Tony responded, and shoved Bucky toward the car, hard, with the hand at the small of his back so it looked like an affectionate gesture. Once they were safely inside the back of Tony’s car, Happy at the wheel and on their way to the theater, Tony was able to take a breath and notice how badly Bucky was shaking.

“Hey, hey,” Tony said. “You all right?”

“I don’t…” Bucky took a few deep, shuddering breaths and raked his hands through his hair, messing it all up. “I don’t like to be touched when I’m not… when I don’t know the person.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “They do that, sometimes. I expect we’ll end up going through another gauntlet on the way into the theater. Unless you want to skip that --”

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky said. He scraped his hair back again and returned it to the bun, somewhat less smooth and suave than it had been before, which just added to the appeal. “Just…”

“Did Darcy give you a prepped statement, in case anyone asks you questions?” Tony asked. He had a few fall-back lines of his own, although they’d been in place since long before Darcy had become his social-media maven.

Bucky actually chuckled and Tony relaxed against the back of the seat. “She tried,” he said, “but apparently, I am useless at delivering a prepared speech. I’ve been relegated to ‘no comment’ until she can get me lined up with an acting coach.”

They did manage to get into the theater without further incident, although someone with a telephoto lens and too much time on their hands had taken note of the messed up nature of Bucky’s hair after getting out of the car, and the angle of the shot prompted the glibly less-than-140-character post, “Where is Stark’s hand and why is Mr. Barnes smiling?”

When Tony leaned over before the curtain went up to show the tweet to Bucky, the poor guy went so red in the face that Tony had a hard time not laughing. And since they were right next to each other, when the lights went dim, Tony gave up on resisting his other impulse, and let his fingers rest on Bucky’s thigh for the entirety of the first act.

Author Note

brace yourself for three weeks worth of fluff (and smut) as their date takes three chapters. wow, I must have been in a really good mood when I wrote it! Enjoy!

as always, @tisfan

#winteriron #prompts #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #tisfan #helping hands AU #tooth rotting fluff #dates

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