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misfitjohnnys · 5 years

Text

unintentional; trying to hold it in but the pieces are falling

You’ve worked hard for everything you’ve gotten and Mark Lee is a soft twist in your busy life, but you know hiding part of yourself eventually always bites anyone in the ass.

Word count: 21k - part 3/5

Reader x Mark Lee

(M)

masterlist // warnings

Mark had arranged a special trip to make sure he dropped you off at the airport and you got on the plane safe and sound. You could see the sadness in his face. You wished you could stay with him longer, but maybe it was time to jump back to reality. That was what vacation was, right?

a/n: this chapter contains smut

You sighed and thumbed over his hand in yours as you made your way to the airport. You knew how dangerous it was for him to be in public like that with you, especially on the day of a show in the city they were playing in. He brought his mask and hoodie specifically for him to be able to walk you through to check in. It felt nice; him making sure he was there to check up on you. He didn’t have to, but you could tell how much he wanted to even at risk of his own safety.

You dreaded getting out of the car when you pulled into the parking spot, sitting in your seat and wishing you were glued there. His driver was extremely understanding thankfully, because you felt like you sat there forever. You looked over at Mark, still holding his hand and seeing the soft, sad smile on his face. “I’m really gonna miss you.” You smiled back at him, sighing again and you wanted to kiss him, so you did. It was probably wrong and extremely troublesome if anyone saw you, but you hoped the black tinted windows were enough to hide it.

His mouth felt warm, but he was tense. You let his hand go and reached up to cup his cheeks and relax him. His hands went down to your waist, holding you for what felt like it would be the last time. You thought for a moment, hoping to relax him, you wanted to say something to make him feel at least a little better. You pulled away to look at him, seeing the melancholy in his eyes.

“I’m gonna come visit you, okay? I promise. Maybe after all this, after the funeral and everything is over.” It wasn’t entirely a lie and it seemed to calm his nerves, smile peeking through. Your heart was wrenched at the thought of leaving. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you knew you had to.

“Promise?” You could tell he had more to say, but he couldn’t. Mark was too sweet and understanding to ask you to stay, you knew that. You nodded, seeing his grin grow wider. You were thankful he didn’t seem like he was going to cry, it felt too early for that and you were begging yourself not to get worked up enough for tears, you couldn’t let that happen. The last week had been like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. The outside world didn’t exist for a while, but you knew it eventually had to end. You walked hand in hand through the airport, Mark’s mask on his face and a hat on to cover himself, but it still made you nervous in case he would get caught. He rolled your bags and you kept your personal bag on your shoulder with your wallet inside. You’d hardly even used it the last few days, letting the time pass. You spent most of your money on flights and rides online anyway, so checking your wallet wasn’t the biggest priority.

Mark brought your bag up to the check in and you could see his frown, picking it up with less effort than it took you, which made you giggle just a little bit. He was such a gentleman and that made you happy. You showed the woman at the counter your ticket and it almost didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like you were about to leave him, and you wished so desperately that you didn’t have to. You walked with him again holding hands, making your way to the final stop to be inside the airport where you couldn’t exit again, wanting to savor your last few seconds with Mark in a tight hug, his arms around your waist and his face nested in the crook of your neck. You sighed softly, kissing his ear because it was the closest piece of skin in view. You were surprised to see how empty the corridor was, looking around and feeling like he was safe enough at the moment. It was incredibly not busy, so you pulled his face up, smiling at him and seeing his eyes crinkle.

He was a little shocked when you pulled his mask down to his chin, leaning in for just another soft kiss, plush pouty lips against yours as if it were the last goodbye. You hoped it wasn’t, you had to keep positive.

You hugged once more, tight arms around tense bodies, but it felt good nonetheless and tearing away felt like hell. You waved him off and stepped forward into the line, feeling his eyes on you and a pout staying on his face before he hid it with a mask. Thankfully nobody was around to see, you really hoped he was in the clear on that front.

You glanced back through the windows as you walked through the doors, watching Mark walk away sadly as you reached into your bag to grab your wallet and present your ID at the counter. You went through it, furrowing your brows when you saw that something was missing, but you couldn’t quite place it. It looked just slightly emptier, shaking it off and pulling your ID out. You presented it and made your way through to your gates and bag checks. You wished Mark was with you, but you’d been in the airport five times so far in the last week alone, so you could easily do that, but you wished you had his company again and it hurt just a little to know that you didn’t know when you’d have it again.

You decided to clean out your bag after it all got emptied in the check. You had so many unnecessary things over the last few months in it and it never occurred to you to clean it. Hopefully it would distract your mind. You emptied your bag, noticing that the NCT keychain you were used to having on your keys was gone. You remembered ripping it off right after the first night with Mark, knowing it would add to the suspicion, but you wished you had it to remind yourself of him again. You remembered tossing it in your suitcase, but didn’t remember seeing it as you packed up. It was odd and even though you ended up breaking it, you weren’t quite ready to part your ways with it yet.

You finished pulling the trash from your bag and neatly reorganized it, waiting for the plane to board when you got a text.

I miss you already :( I really hope I get to see you again

Your heart ached, sighing and figuring out what you should say to him. You hated being away from him and it had just been a few minutes. You were shocked to even see a text that soon, but it felt nice, nonetheless.

I miss you too, i really want to plan something asap bc I had so much fun, we should definitely hang out again before you leave okay??

He took a little while to respond and it seemed slightly dry. You hoped he was okay and part of you felt like your confidence was a little too high in that moment. He was already missing you and you felt important still. You hoped it would stay like that and you’d make a huge effort to make sure it did. You didn’t want to lose contact with him, but you’d never been in the position before. Normally you were the one who let friendships and relationships die, but you didn’t want to ruin this one, even if it wasn’t serious enough yet.

I really hope you can

You sighed, gripping your phone tightly in your hand. It felt like all you had left of Mark. You thought up a response, quickly typing it out when you heard that your plane was boarding.

Don’t forget about me, okay?

You bit your lip, walking up to the podium to present your ticket and get onboard. You felt your phone vibrate as you walked through, smiling when you saw who it was. You answered the phone, grinning and letting your phone open up a FaceTime. On the screen you saw Taemin, Ten, Lucas, and Mark grinning into the camera. Your heart was swollen, and you tried your best to make your way to your seat. “Hold on guys, I’m gonna get my headphones really quick!” You sat down, pulling your headphones out as you watched Lucas out of the corner of your eyes making faces at himself in the phone’s camera.

“We’re gonna miss you!” Lucas told you, giggling. You hadn’t gotten the proper time to say goodbye that morning, spending all your time with Mark made you kind of forget about it. You felt a little bad. You got your headphones in, hiding your phone screen and grinning into the camera.

“I’m gonna miss you all so much!” You reminded them, giggling as you saw Ten rip the phone out of his hands. “I had such a good time with you guys, I’m so glad I met you!”

“Okay, so, you live in LA right?” Ten asked you, bright grin shining on screen.

“Mm, yeah!” You nodded, waiting for what he was going to say. He always had something funny to add to a conversation, you loved hearing him speak.

“Well, you know, we have two shows in California, you could meet up with us and Mark could get laid again and-“ Your cheeks heated up and you saw Mark grab the phone, eyes wide and nervously smiling into it as he looked at you.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You could hear Ten laughing, Taemin joining him loudly as Mark tried to regain his composure. “They wanted to tell you goodbye.”

“Bye bye!” You heard Taemin yell, Mark smiling and pointing the camera toward him, who was waving excitedly at you. “I’ll miss you!” Taemin made your heart soft. He was one of the most fun people you’d met yet in your celebrity life and you hoped you could definitely hang out with him again, but from what you knew America wasn’t a place he was often. It made you a little sad. You had to make plans to see them, smiling at yourself and sighing when you saw how happy they were, so excited to have made a friend. You were glad you’d met them, even if only for a brief period of time, they helped you vacation more than anyone else ever had. They felt like friends more than yours even had and it was an overwhelmingly warm feeling in your heart. You hoped you’d stay close and continue your friendship, even from so far away. Maybe you’d visit them in Korea, you weren’t sure, but you’d hoped. You knew Ten was mostly promoting in China and with the information you knew, you hoped he and Taemin would continue their happy relationship. You knew so much about them just in such a short period of time. It was nice.

“Babe?” You heard Mark call for your attention, pulling you out of your own thoughts. The pet name rung in your ears so nicely.

“Hm?” You smiled, giggling at his soft cheeks and smile. He was beautiful, such a wonderful face to see on someone who seemed to care about you so deeply so quickly.

“Be safe, okay?” Your heart felt like it would burst, making you slightly teary eyed. “Talk to me if you need anyone, okay? Even if you have to call me at the funeral, I’ll be here for you.” He made your head turn to mush, wishing you could embrace him again, feel his warmth cradling you through hard times. You nodded, grinning so wide it hurt.

“Thank you.” You nodded, sighing and just seeing his content face, sitting calmly in his hotel room. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the end in that moment.

“I’ll be here for you, okay?” You nodded in assurance, seeing his soft shy smile appear once again when the room quieted down. You heard the flight attendants start to speak, pulling you out of your conversation and you frowned just a little knowing you had to hang up. “About to take off?” He asked, nerves pulling on his face again and you nodded. “Okay, call me when you land.”

“Good luck with your show tonight, alright?” You nodded once more, telling him your final goodbye before you had to turn your phone on airplane mode, sighing as you hung up and set it down. You hoped to take a nap through your flight. It was a longer flight than the others because of the distance and it made you sad not to be able to talk to Mark, but you’d be in touch with him in just a few hours so you were thankful.

The plane ride pulled anxiety out of you, making you take one of your Xanax for a nap. Thankfully it worked, cradled up with your phone in hand for comfort and an airplane blanket. Your headphones were stuffed in your ears, playing music to ease you into sleep, nodding off easily after takeoff.

It was easy after that, waking up when the turbulence got high and pulled you from your dreams. You were landing soon and the first thing you wanted to do was text Mark, waiting for the plane to touch down and allow it. You were quick to get texts on the way out, seeing multiple messages from Irene, Mark and three unrecognized numbers. You grinned, knowing exactly who they were.

So the funeral is in two days, I’ve rearranged some appointments for outfits and got a headstart on your speech. Interviews for new management are being arranged as we speak. Text me when you land down and I’ll send a car. See you soon. Good luck! Everyone misses you!

You were sure everyone at work was kind of glad to have a break from you. Even if they did enjoy you as their boss, you weren’t going to deny being high strung and a bit overwhelming at your job. Things seemed to have gone smoothly and without many issues, thankfully from Irene’s participation and eye for knowing exactly what you needed to happen. She always made sure things went well, and you almost felt bad for ditching her, but she liked the fact that you were having a good enough time to be distracted from work for so much longer than intended. She didn’t know exactly what had even gone on and you were almost scared to tell her, but you’d handle that in person. You typed a quick message to her as you made your way into the airport to go back home. It felt like you’d been away for months, but hopefully you’d enjoy being back at least just a little bit. The moment was bittersweet.

Hi honey, it’s Ten! Good luck with everything sweetie, we’re here for you <3

We wish you the best and I hope to see your face again! Come jopping with us soon ;) -TAEMIN

It’s Lucas!!! You made this tour a lot of fun so far! Thank you!!!❤️~

Mark’s texts made your heart race, sighing and feeling stars in your eyes as you read all four of them. It made you happier than it should have to see a quadruple text.

Hey how’s everything?? I’m worried sick about you i hope you’re okay!!

I hope you’re not too busy to talk to me when you get back home but i totally understand if you are??

i don’t wanna seem crazy i promise lmao but i want you know we’re here for you!

aaaahhh!! sorry for texting so much i swear I’m not normally like this !!!

You had your own fair share of obsessively texting people, so it didn’t bother you even a little bit. He made you feel so special and you wished you had more time with him. You immediately called him, shocked to speak with him for an hour, giving him live updates on everything as he got ready for the show, just enjoying hearing each other’s voices even if the conversations were filled with nothing important. You liked him way more than you probably should.

The days following were heavy, filled with grief and much more paperwork and filling in at work than you thought in a time of heartache. You weren’t used to texting much anymore, trying to keep yourself composed in the crisis of the day, but you were thankful when the funeral was over. You spent almost every second of your free time keeping up with Mark, just excited to see exactly what he was up to, even catching up on his lives and seeing him text you back so quickly. The boys still seemed happy and that’s what made you a little more grounded. You’d thankfully found a replacement and it hurt your heart, but you did what you had to do. You made sure to cut checks to family members of the deceased, hoping to keep them afloat a little better. You always did what was best for your restaurant and you could tell it was what kept you so successful.

The funeral was beautiful, a perfect way to commemorate Hannah’s hard work and appreciate her as a person, giving your condolences to the family members and made sure to memorialize her in the best way possible. It ached your heart that you didn’t have Mark with you, repeatedly reminding him that you wished he were there, and he had no hesitation telling you how much he wished he were with you. It made it all a bit easier. The boys texting you made it easier too. They’d send a couple texts every few days, and even though they weren’t as thorough as Mark, you still felt important to them.

Days went by and turned to weeks, getting back into routine and making sure all the locations were still perfectly good to go. It was more work than you thought it would be, but you managed; making sure everyone was back on track and you were shocked by how much time had passed by. You were easily able to keep up with Mark and the rest of SuperM through social media, but you wished you were hands-on with them again, hanging out when you saw pictures of them out and about. It warmed your heart to see them having fun, but it didn’t stop you from wishing you were there with them as well. You almost cringed at the fact that you and Mark FaceTimed almost every night before bed, but it made you feel warm in the moment. He made you so happy and you were falling for him way faster than you ever thought you should. It didn’t take much with him and you could tell he felt the same way, setting yourself up for something that almost felt forbidden, but you didn’t care. He distracted you from the hard times at work and from the reality of business meetings and he was a very easy escape. You felt like you were his too.

It came up on two nights before the last tour date of the year, sighing in bed after a stressful day of work and you wanted more than anything to be with him. You bit your lip, pressing the call button and being sure to get him on the line. He answered with a bright smile, as always. “Hey babe.” You had to stifle a giggle, sighing happily as you got ready for bed, in your pyjamas and setting your phone on the bathroom counter to do your nightly skincare.

“Hey!” You grinned, looking over at him as you grabbed your facial soap, rubbing it into your skin. “How are you feeling now that the tour is almost over?” You asked, smiling happily and seeing him sigh in content.

“It’s uh, a little sad.” He shrugged, pushing his black hair out of his face. He always looked so good when his forehead was out, you noted. “I don’t want it to end, you know? I really like touring in America, it feels almost like I’m home, you know?” He pouted softly, sighing as he laid his head into his pillow, fingers running through his hair again. You’d noticed he did that a lot on FaceTime. He was a fidgeter, he liked to have something to do. “I wish you were here.” He reminded you. You hadn’t heard him say that in a few days, so it was a nice surprise. It really felt like you were in a long distance relationship, nagging at your heart because it had only been a little over a month and you wished so desperately that you could’ve gone through it all with him, but things happen for a reason, or so you hoped.

“You’ll be back though!” You reminded him, grinning and trying your best to stay positive. You wished you could’ve seen him before that leg of the tour ended and it was nagging at you that you should’ve visited again, but the time never came up and it made you sadder than anything. The first leg of the tour flew by much faster than you thought possible. You didn’t have time to see him, but you hoped that even if you couldn’t see him before he left, it wouldn’t be long before he was in California and you’d be in his arms at least once again. Thankfully NCT had been doing a lot of American visits, so you’d have your time again, you hoped.

“Yeah.” He nodded. He was silent for a moment and you could tell he was thinking, trying to find his words. You let him take his time, but his silence was more than deafening.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, stopping after you finally wiped your face off, biting your lip and worried about him. “Is everything okay?”

“Well,” Mark sighed, a small smile playing on his face. “I actually.. Was going to see if I could come see you.” You were shocked a little, eyebrows raised and slightly narrowed in concern. You swallowed, not even sure how to react to his confession. Your silence made him nervous, speaking up once again. “I mean, uh, the last concert is the day after tomorrow, so, um, I might have some time to visit because I, uh, have to be in Spain a couple days after, but I’ll be back in New York for the Macy’s Day Parade,” He grinned, knowing he was telling you information that he wasn’t allowed to tell you. It made you feel good that he trusted you, pulling your lips into a smile in the disbelief of him wanting to come to you, but you held back your excitement even though the words were ringing in your ears. “So I’ve got a couple days to hang out.”

“You sure you want to visit me in the midst of all that?” You giggled, resting your elbows on the counter to get closer to the camera. You could see the faint blush on his cheeks as he nodded. You were more than shocked that he was actually planning a trip for you even when he was so busy. You didn’t know what to say.

“Only if you, um, think I can.” He wanted to work around your schedule, and it was thoughtful, so, of course, without even thinking too hard, you gave him an answer.

“Absolutely.” You nodded, giggling even harder with excitement. Even if you didn’t have the time, you would make time around him because your happiness mattered just as much as your success, and Mark had been your main source of happiness for the last few weeks. You’d mostly kept to yourself aside from him and you were suffering just a little bit from the vacation still, but you didn’t at all regret going, seeing his face perk up and his eyes disappear into a smile. He was more than excited, you could tell.

“You’re deadass?” He asked, grinning even harder. You didn’t hear him swear as much anymore, so it was pleasant to hear. You hardly ever heard anyone but Taemin curse so it felt even more real to hear him say those words. You wouldn’t let him know that though.

“Uh, duh!” You nodded again, giggling even more and feeling butterflies in your stomach at the thought of him visiting again. This time it would be in your city. It was nice to have the upper hand again and you were thinking about all you could do together. You wanted him to visit at least one of the stores you owned, so that was exciting, but you also wanted to show him the small spots in LA that you’d found. It wasn’t your favorite city, but it was a great place to make a living and you’d done it, finding comfort in little hideouts for enjoyment that you definitely wanted to share with him. He was just as important to you even if things had moved so fast, you trusted him to come into your personal space and you could tell he appreciated that.

“Buy your plane ticket and I’ll pick you up from the airport!” You told him excitedly, returning to the mirror to put your moisturizer and facial creams on. You had a hard time containing breakouts with the stress, especially from smoking, but you worked around it. Mark didn’t seem to mind.

“You’d do that?” Mark asked excitedly, grinning and pumped that he’d see you even sooner than he thought.

“Yeah, I get to drive you around now, how’s that feel?” You joked, seeing his eyebrow crook and seeing a smirk on his face.

“That’s hot, yeah.” You blushed, shaking your head at his stupid comment. “Got an independent one to drive me around. Got me a little badass!” He smirked playfully, raising a brow.

“Shut up.” You laughed, hearing him join you. He took a big sigh, feeling your own heart beat fast in your chest as you saw him relax, making your own way to bed. You bit your lip, sitting down on your own bed. You thought for a moment, wondering where exactly he planned to stay. You hoped it was with you, so you had to ask. “Hey, so,” You started, searching for your words. “Are you wanting to like, stay at my house?” You asked, biting at your lip again out of nervousness and you saw him flush a little, nerves returning. You’d never had anyone romantically interested in you stay at your place, so it was only normal to be scared, but you had a feeling it would be fine with Mark. You moved fast anyway in your friendship, so you thought it wouldn’t be a problem, but it still worried you.

“I mean, like,” He cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair again. He was nervous that you asked that way and you almost regretted it until he spoke up. “I won’t if you don’t want me to, but, uh, that’s what I was thinking.” You grinned again, feeling a slight tug at your stomach as you looked around your room to see a little bit of kpop paraphernalia. You’d have to make a note to put all of that away in the next two days. “Un-unless you don’t want me to!” He started, beginning to ramble on. “I mean I can find a place to stay, I don’t think it would be a problem, I mean, I could get a hotel room and you could come stay there with me so we could see each other because I don’t really know your living situation but-“ You cut him off with a laugh.

“No, you’re staying here.” You told him, nodding and biting your lip again. “You can sleep in my bed,” You saw him relax, sighing happily. You hadn’t had anyone in your bed in quite a while and they had all been friends or Irene, so it almost scared you. “I don’t bite.” You were glad you didn’t have a roommate in the time being.

“I mean,” Mark started, making you roll your eyes.

“Okay I might bite sometimes, but only if it’s wanted.” You joked playfully. He laughed in return, blush plastering itself across his face through the screen. Mark had a way of making your stomach flutter.

“That’s kinda, uh, dirty.” He teased and you weren’t sure you wanted to get into that conversation with him, the arousal only slightly making its way down to your core. It could wait, you wanted to wait for Mark, and you hoped it would come again that you’d share another intimate moment. Sex with Mark was incomparable, but he didn’t need to know that over FaceTime.

“Shut up.” You laughed, shaking your head. “If you’re coming then I need to get some rest to get my shit together tomorrow.” You both laughed again, sighing into the pillow underneath you. You could tell he was getting ready for bed too and it was weird to think that he was only across the country and it was much later for him, but you loved that you were on the same sleep schedule for now, it didn’t matter where you were.

“Yeah, I probably need to turn in too.” He had a dopey smile played on his face and you admired it, seeing him relax into the pillows and you hoped nobody was around to see how whipped you were for him. It was embarrassing to think, but you knew it would be fine. Everyone else was probably sleeping already.

“I guess we should say goodnight then?” You said softly, seeing his eyelids get a little heavy. He was tired, but he had a hard time sleeping if he didn’t talk to you before bed. That was sweet.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll see you in two days, okay?” He asked, perking up for just a moment, voice slightly groggy. It was hot for him, but maybe you were just thinking about the fact that you could be with him again. It made you a little more excited than it should’ve even if it wasn’t just about sex. Being with Mark was the fun part; the intimacy was an added bonus.

“Okay.” You nodded, giggling happily as you sighed into bed, you felt warm, cozy and excited to see the boy you couldn’t yet call your boyfriend, but it meant the world that he was coming over. You had to get the place ready for the visit, but that was the least of your worries. You hoped he’d still like you if he saw you in your normal setting, it didn’t feel unlikely that he wouldn’t; you’d be a little more stressed but also more comfortable, so maybe it would work itself out. “Goodnight then, yeah.” You smiled through your thoughts.

“Mm, I miss you.” He sighed, eyes dreamy and heavy with sleep. You heart felt like it would beat out of your chest.

“I miss you too.” You spoke softly, looking into the camera to get the same dopey smile from him.

“Goodnight, baby.” He told you, the pet name the perfect end to your night before hanging up with the biggest grin of your life. He made you happy, almost too happy. You clutched your phone to your chest after he hung up, finally relaxing into the pillows. The sooner you could rest, the sooner you could prepare to see Mark. It made the night go a bit more smoothly. Sleeping was easier that night than it had been since you were away from each other and for that, you were more than thankful.

You’d woken up exactly 8 hours later, more rested than you could ever remember feeling, even without an alarm. You’d luckily given yourself night shifts two days in a row, so the morning was your time to get the place ready. Your heart rate spiked every time you remembered that you hadn’t ever been in a position that you’d had someone you were romantically interested in at your house, so the was new and uncharted territory scared you, more excited than you expected as you boxed up your more obvious merchandise and tried to still make your home feel lived-in. The place looked almost barren without the decorations and you realized you were probably in over your head for still trying to hide part of you.

It was mostly your albums going into the extra bedroom. You figured leaving a poster and a few knick-knacks on your shelves wouldn’t hurt. They were low-key enough to not seem suspicious and part of you felt like maybe it was time to confess to Mark, but you weren’t going to risk it beforehand because you wanted him to come over so badly. You wouldn’t let anything ruin that. He bought himself a flight for right after checkout the day after the concert, so you’d be picking him up right after your shift and with the time zone difference, it worked out perfectly.

You missed him more than you thought imaginable, dusting around the place and catching the little spots your housekeeper managed to miss as you rearranged a little furniture to make the space more movable. To be honest, you knew your apartment was in great condition, but you had a lot of nervous energy and cleaning seemed like the best way to get it out in a positive way.

You pulled out your best candles and put the rest of your casual decorations you’d been meaning to hang on the walls, setting them up to where they looked perfect. You stepped back to admire your work, confident enough in your place to where Mark would enjoy it. You were lucky, the place was beautiful when you bought it, so you never were ashamed of bringing people over, but Mark made you a little more nervous than others for obvious reasons. You hoped it was perfect for him.

As you made your way to work, the smiles wouldn’t leave your face. The sun was shining bright in the afternoon and hot even with the crisp Los Angeles air around you and you were thankful because Mark said that the weather had been terrible each place they’d gone on tour so far, you were glad to give him just a bit of relief. The sun beamed down on you through the windows as you smoked down a cigarette on your room’s balcony. You’d smoked so much less than usual lately and the pain of losing a friend had subsided. You were starting to feel like yourself again and were hopefully on your way to making your habit less intense. As you made your way to work, you thought about Mark and what it was going to be like to hold his hand as you drove, and it made you grin stupidly. You sighed, turning the radio up and enjoying the breeze through the windows because in a little over 24 hours, you’d be seeing Mark’s bright and smiling face. It made the separation from him so much more worth it.

Two shifts away from him landing down. The first one was a breeze with what felt like no issues whatsoever, immediately going home to cuddle in your bed and sleep only one last time alone before Mark was there. Dipping your fingers into the waistband of your pyjama pants, you thought about Mark and it almost felt wrong, but you liked the time for yourself and the thoughts about him were too enticing to ignore and the nerves of him visiting would settle with the assistance. You were looking way too forward to the visit to say you weren’t even dating, but you were hopeful either way.

You woke up the next day with extreme butterflies in your stomach. You wore a nice outfit to work and spent extra time on your face just in case things got a little too jumbled together in your schedule. You’d gotten up earlier than you should have, preparing the house just a bit more and finishing up your laundry. Things had to be perfect and your nerves were intense, but not negative. Much less scary than when you left to see the first concert. It felt like it had been ages since it all started, reminding yourself that the friendship and love interest was all still relatively new, so you couldn’t jinx it just yet. Work was a breeze, easily filling the place with full bellies and a light enjoyment all around the customer tables. Maybe it was just the excitement of what was to come after you got off. Your life was going perfect, better than you ever thought it could as of late.

You were a little too excited to clock out, quickly shutting the doors and helping to get everyone out and cleaned as soon as possible. Mark texted you a few hours prior that he was getting on the plane and he would be landing sometime soon. You excitedly helped bus the rest of the tables and got dishes done, making a smooth closing easy. You were mopping the last floor when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket again, grinning when you saw Mark’s text.

I’m here!! we just touched down so I’ll be waiting for you in a little bit!!

You quickly locked the doors after made sure that everyone clocked out and was ready to leave. You went outside, jogging excitedly to your Mustang and hopped in, nerves shaking you up only slightly as you started it up. You’d get to the airport just in time to pick Mark up after he left the plane and got his bags. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you made your way there, excitedly running inside after parking.

You waited inside on a bench for a couple minutes and felt a soft tap on the shoulder, sweet laughter filled your ears as you were pulled into a sweet embrace, Mark’s face nuzzled into your neck and his soft breaths made you feel dizzy. You couldn’t believe he was in your arms again and it almost felt like you were meeting for the first time again. You held him tight, not wanting to ever let go and let the fantasy end. It still didn’t feel quite real. You giggled, pulling away slightly to get a glance at him, but you were met with a masked face with a hat on to cover him, which you definitely understood the reasoning to, but you wanted to quickly get somewhere more private to greet him in a way you felt was proper. You tugged his arm along and pulled him with you, his free hand dragging his luggage as you made your way down the escalators out to the car. The airport was loud, so it was hard to talk to Mark anyway, but you could feel his eyes boring holes into your head, glancing back and each time seeing his cheeks making his eyes disappear into crescents from his smiling.

“I cleaned my house for you.” You told him as the place quieted down, seeing his eyebrow quirk up.

“Someone trying to impress me?” Mark joked, grinning somehow wider. “I’m actually really excited to see your place and not have tons of people around me and in the same house.” He sounded relieved and you were slightly concerned for a minute. It flashed in your mind that it was probably really hard for him to deal with that many people around him at all times. You knew a little about their housing situations, but he’d talked about it just a bit.

“You all live together right?” you asked, thumbing over his hand and you heard him sigh.

“Yeah, kinda.” He shrugged. “There’s twenty-one of us, right?” You heard him hesitate and you realized that this was the first time that Mark was really opening up, but it was also the first time he wasn’t in close proximity of the other members and not even in the same town as them for the first time since you met him. And you’d only been around when he was in a group of seven, so the reality of how they were living was more concerning than you’d thought about before. You nodded. You could tell Mark was gathering his words. “There’s technically ten of us in 127, which I know you know is my main promoting group,” You nodded again. “but nine of us live together. Nine. Ten of us lived together before one of our members, his name’s WinWin, went to China with WayV,” You heard him sigh, furrowing your brows and almost feeling terrible for him. It wasn’t often you thought about that kind of thing, but it was becoming obvious that it was something he dealt with daily.

“That.. is a lot. It sounds overwhelming.” You turned to him with a frown, just wanting to comfort him. “Well, you get to have a small getaway, right?” you tried to reassure him, seeing a sad smile creep on his cheeks, pulling his mask down in the dark empty garage.

“Yeah, I’m really excited about it.” He sighed happily. “It’s going to be a really nice escape.” When you walked up to your car, seeing the Mustang had his jaw dropping. It was nearly as if he’d just laid eyes on a Lamborghini. “Is this your car?” He asked, grinning when you unlocked it with your keys, letting go of his hand to open the trunk for his bags. “Holy shit, I’ve got myself a badass.” He pulled the mask off of his ear, grin shining brightly and setting his bag in the trunk, admiring the car.

“I guess so.” You shrugged, looking the vehicle over and not thinking a huge deal of it. It was an upgraded model you got straight off the lot and you took great care of it, so you were proud, but it wasn’t as big of a deal as Mark was making it out to be. “I like it, it takes me places.” You teased, raising a brow at Mark, who was inching his way closer to you. You hoped the parking garage was private enough because you grabbed Mark by the jacket and pulled him flush to you, just close enough to where your faces were an inch from each other.

“You take me places.” He told you, closing the space between the two of you with a firm kiss, lips sliding against yours like his life depended on it. The words fluttered in your stomach. You felt good, like you were an escape to the life he was so used to living. You loved that Mark made you feel so detrimental with every kiss he gave you, his soft hands finding place on your sides, gently thumbing over the fabric of your shirt. You pulled away with a grin, seeing his shy smile and a bright blush on his cheeks.

“The only place I’m taking you is home.” You told him, biting your lip and seeing him shy away again.

“Okay!” Mark laughed nervously, biting his lip and hugging you tightly, sighing into your neck. “I’m so glad to see you.” You felt your heart race, pulling away so you could get in the car.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him, grinning and wondering if he was properly taking care of himself since he was so busy.

“Starving.” He told you, making his way over to the passenger side. “Maybe you should show me your way around Los Angeles?” He smirked playfully, slipping into the car and admiring the inside.

“Like a date?” you joked, grinning as he settled into the seat and shut the door.

“I’m all yours.” Mark softly smiled, reaching over to gently lay his hand on your lap. It surprised you how affectionate Mark seemed to be in comparison to how he seemed in videos you’d seen of him and he was definitely more of an open book than you’d thought. He’d told you much more than you’d ever expected to hear from him, and it made him seem so vulnerable. You had one hand on the steering wheel as you reversed out of your spot, making your way out of the parking garage before you tangled your fingers with his, opting to drive with your left hand. Holding hands with Mark was sweet, his clammy fidgety hands between your fingers made your heart warm and the heat rise on your cheeks. “You’re actually a good driver.” He told you, bright smile flashing. You rolled your eyes and thought of all the times that your friends had told you that you weren’t.

“Don’t let my friends hear you.” You told him, grinning. “They all think I want to star in Tokyo Drift or something.” You earned a soft laughter, thumbing over the back of your hand.

“My friend Johnny drove us around in Chicago once and I almost threw up. I wouldn’t tell him that though. I mean he’s a good driver! He was just too excited to show us around.” The mention of Johnny’s name made your heart rate spike again, swallowing hard. “You also have a nicer car, so that might help.” He made you laugh, rolling your eyes again.

“I paid incredibly too much for it right off the lot, but it was my dream car for a while.” You told him, looking over to see him still starry eyed.

“At least you can drive.” You snorted at that, grinning at his childlike ways. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t drive, but you were sure he definitely didn’t have the time to learn and with the abundance of drivers he had it seemed weird for him to take himself around. “Taemin tried to drive us once here and our manager literally made him get out of the car so he could drive. Man was heartbroken.” You snorted harder, thinking about Taemin pouting and being forced into a passenger seat.

“Does he drive at home?” You asked, biting your lip because you already kind of knew the answer.

“Jongin said he’s terrible. But yes, he does drive.” He said through giggles. You sighed, pulling up into the street you lived on before skillfully parking into a spot in the garage, making Mark raise his eyebrow at you, slightly impressed. “See? I could never do that!” He grinned again. The awe he had in his eyes when you did anything blew your mind, making your chest tight and you felt like a teenager inviting your boyfriend over when your parents weren’t home. It wasn’t the same kind of forbidden, but it was close.

You walked Mark up the stairs, slight small talk between the two of you as he ranted softly about being so tired. You knew exactly how tired he was, you knew he was between two groups that were touring back to back and you just wanted him to rest, but he was making it seem less tiring than it was. You soothed his mind as you listened to him rant. He seemed to need someone to do that with who was outside of the situation, so you were happy to be of assistance. He was sweet and didn’t want you to worry, but you were mostly just glad you could be in his arms again. You didn’t know how long the fling would last, so you would savor it as long as possible, carefully walking him to the front entrance where he looked awestruck again, observing the many different lights and decorations around as you unlocked the door with your keys, seeing him bite his lip. He looked a bit nervous, like he was doing something he shouldn’t. Which was partially true.

“I cleaned for you.” You warned Mark.

“You said that already.” He laughed before squeezing your hip.

You grinned as you opened the door up, his fingers tangled with your left hand as he followed you inside, eyes beaming around the place as he took it all in. You felt him let go of your hand, slight confusion on your face before you felt arms around your waist, pulling a smile to your lips as the door shut behind you. You felt him hold you tightly from behind, his chin resting in the crook of your neck and sighing softly into your hair.

“I really missed you.” He told you. You could feel the warmth of his face against your skin and it felt intoxicating, relieving you of the stress from your last few hectic weeks. “I, like, think about you all the time, everyone tells me to shut up.” He spoke softer, just holding you in his embrace for a while longer, loving the contact and you wondered how you’d gotten so lucky. This amazing boy walked into your heart and was having a hard time leaving and for once, it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t done anything special, but there he was, thousands of miles away from home and in your apartment to spend time with you before who knows what scheduling he had in the near future. It was unreal.

Mark had fallen asleep quickly after laying down in your bed with you, promises of he was sorry for being so sleepy as he thumbed over your hips through your oversized t-shirt and he couldn’t quite get it through his mind that you didn’t actually care at all. It was nice to be laying in bed with him, not a worry in the world and you weren’t at all concerned about work, everything had gone much smoother in the last few days than you expected and you were making quite a bit of money and saw pretty good reviews, so all you had to focus on was Mark sleeping peacefully in your bed for the next few hours, dozing off right next to him, his head laying on your chest. His kind, sweet innocent nature made the room a thousand percent cozier.

You woke up with Mark’s nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck and his arm uncomfortably laid over your body. The first thing you did was snort, seeing his messy hair and his open mouth. You hoped he was dreaming well, clearly sleeping peacefully enough to knock the blankets to the edge of the bed and push the pillow he was supposed to be laying on off of it. You hadn’t seen him sleep that hard yet, but since the stress of the SuperM tour for that segment was off of him for a few days, you knew he needed the rest before he headed home for practice and then to Spain. You gently moved yourself off the bed, trying your hardest not to wake him and replace your body with the extra pillow before softly covering him up.

You sighed peacefully, looking at him sleeping heavily on the bed, seeming to not have woken him up as you slipped onto your balcony to smoke, putting a cigarette to your lips before taking a deep breath in. You looked back in through the window to see Mark still sleeping sweetly, cuddled around the pillow you left him, a smile gracing your lips as you took a seat on the balcony, looking over the city. It was just before dawn and it had been a while since you’d taken the time to appreciate the sky. Mark helped you slow down. You never once thought that someone could change you, but he brought you new surprises each day.

You had your knees pulled to your chest while the cool breeze passed over you. It never got too cold in Los Angeles, so sitting out was nice even in winter. You took a few drags from your cigarette, watching the stars glisten and wondered how you got so lucky as you tried to pull yourself awake from the nap. You yawned slightly and a small gasp left your lips when you heard the balcony door open, quickly turning back to see a yawning Mark with his eyes hardly open. He shot you a smile and rubbed his eyes, taking a seat next to you. “Good morning.” He spoke softly, eyeing the cigarette in your hand.

You grinned at him. “Sleep well?” You asked, seeing his sleepy grin. “You were out pretty hard. I didn’t think my bed was that comfortable.” You teased, taking another drag. You didn’t miss how he eyed it.

“Yeah, it was probably the best nap I’ve had in about 6 years now.” Mark laughed, wrapping his own arms around his knees, yawning again. “You’re comfortable.” He teased, sighing. “You sleep okay? I woke up and you were gone.”

You shrugged in response. “I slept fine, yeah.” You nodded. “You sleep like a rock.” His laugh could bring daises back to life.

“I guess I needed it.” Mark was still eyeing your cigarette, furrowing your brows as you followed his eyes. “Do you smoke a lot?” He asked, eyes innocent.

You were embarrassed, swallowing softly. “I-I guess I do.” You answered honestly, shrugging and taking another drag. “Probably more than I should.” You’d cut down a lot, but not enough to be rid of the habit.

Mark nodded. “Did you, uh, ever-“ You knew what he was about to say, you’d heard it a million times and it hurt you each time someone said it, you just wished it didn’t have to come out. “Think about quitting?” You knew that in his line of work, he wasn’t really allowed to smoke, just like everyone else he was around. It was Mark’s second strike since the PDA in the bowling alley, and it made you nervous.

“Not-not really. I’ve put it down a few times, but honestly it’s just relaxing.” Your face was red, and you felt awkward, looking down and taking another drag as you sighed. Mark swallowed, blinking and scooting closer to you and you could see him biting his lip from the corner of your eyes.

“Oh, okay, um,” Mark started, but the damage was already done. “I’m sorry, that was, um, kind of rude.” He sighed again, fiddling with his fingers. “I-I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, you know.” Mark told you. You responded with a nod, but just needed a moment to cool down over it. You were frowning a bit, just trying to finish your cigarette. You had to give it to him, he was good at taking his foot out of his mouth. You just wish it hadn’t gone in.

“I get it a lot.” You shrugged, keeping your eyes away from his. You hated being embarrassed about it, especially since you knew everyone who tried to get you to quit was right, but it was an easy way to relax and you didn’t like that people told you what to do. “I just don’t like to be reminded of stuff I don’t like about myself.” You both smiled at that, earning a shrug from Mark.

“You can say that again.” He grinned, looking over at you. You put the cigarette out, smiling over at him. He reached over, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb before gently pecking you on the lips. “It doesn’t bother me that much, I’m just not used to it. Nobody around me smokes. It’s just-“ He shrugged again, making you smile. “Different.”

You both got up from the balcony ground, making your way inside. “Let’s go shower, you sweat in your sleep.” He laughed. “Which makes me sweat, so.” You teased him, grinning.

“It was a long day, okay.” He shook his head, already tugging off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder. You took a slight look, biting your lip softly and tugging him into the bathroom by his wrist.

“That was like, the most fancy shower I’ve ever been in.” Mark giggled softly, drying his hair off with one of your plush towels. You shook your head, smiling at his antics. You’d just had slightly messy, but definitely sweet sex in the shower and he was just thinking about your bathroom. You had to admit, you did have a really nice shower and you loved it but hearing him talk about it filled you with a sense of pride. “You’ve got like, a really nice house.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Come on, your place has got to be nice, you’re an idol for god’s-sake.” You saw him shrug, smiling back at you.

“I mean, it’s nice, but you’ve got this place to yourself.” He told you, looking around your apartment, wide eyed with a towel around his waist. You tried not to stare, but you liked the way Mark looked and you couldn’t deny it. “This is like, the perfect bachelor pad.” You snorted at him.

“I’m not exactly a bachelor.” You teased, seeing him gasp and cover his face, his bashfulness showing through.

“I can’t tell if you’re saying you’re not single or what you’re trying to get at.” He pouted softly, soft smile showing through. “Because,” He stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I think we’re kind of, um, exclusive.” You couldn’t help your grin, already knowing the truth behind his words, but it was nice to finally hear it from his mouth.

“That was like, the most nervous way to ask me to date you.” You were in another big shirt already, not bothered by him seeing you so casual. He’d seen you at your worst at that point, so you kissed him, your hands placed softly on his cheeks, closing your eyes and feeling his body pressed close. He had basically just told you that you were practically dating, so you had to honor him, knowing it was hard for the situation, but you were willing to settle with that for now. You’d known each other for only a short amount of time at that point, but it was exciting to kind of know where you stood.

“Well I mean, it’s the end of the decade, you know, why not do something crazy while I can?” Mark was looking shy, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, teasing. “I like that you’re willing to take a risk with me.”

“Well, I’ll be in the states quite a bit next year,” He started, grabbing your immediate attention. “Like, I will be here, a lot.” He emphasized. “And I think it’s kinda, um, stupid to ignore the fact that this could work.” You swallowed, blinking and excited to hear what was coming next. “So, I thought, why not? You know? I just think it’s worth it to try.” He smiled again, unable to stop his excitement from showing. Your head was spinning.

“I definitely think you’re right.” You nodded, sighing happily and kissing him softly again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “So I think you should get dressed and we should go on our first date.” It was still slightly dark out, but since you had the nap it felt much later in the day. You shrugged. “Or, you know what?” You piqued his interest.

“Yeah?”

“We could order in, watch a movie, and make out all morning until we fall asleep.”

“That sounds much better.” You saw Mark go to your room, open his suitcase, and pull out a shirt and some shorts, cutely pulling them on. He looked so shy as you watched him, smiling like an idiot and trying to hide himself.

“You don’t have to be so shy, you’re like basically my boyfriend right now.” You teased, grinning and flipping through the subscriptions on your TV as background noise.

“Ah, right now?” He laughed, trying to tug on some socks on one foot, raising a brow at you. “I’m only your boyfriend right now?” He smirked, finally fully dressed and making his way over to your bed, laying sweetly at your side.

“Shut up.” You teased him, running your fingers through his wet hair. He looked around your room, admiring the simple decor and grinning when he saw a small collection of NCT things around your desk. You’d left them there to hopefully make him smile.

“So someone’s become my fan.” Mark joked, seeing him eye the few remaining albums around your shelves. He had no idea that the rest of your memorabilia was in another room, so you’d let him have that one. You were silent for a moment, if only he knew. “Whose photocards did you get?” He laughed, looking back and quirking an eyebrow back up at you. You shrugged playfully, enjoying that he seemed to feel full of himself.

“Well, I got one for Johnny, a Jungwoo, and two for you.” You saw him grin widely at the last part, smiling to himself. “I also have some SuperM albums on the way, I thought you’d enjoy those unboxing if you were here.” You shrugged again, not missing how happy he seemed to get.

“Hm, I think that would be a great date.” Mark joked, grinning widely. “I hope you got my face.”

“I did, because I love your face.” You smirked teasingly, “But I also got Taemin, Ten, Lucas, and literally all of your faces. I bought them all.” You snorted and Mark couldn’t help but to laugh loudly. You didn’t really have the time before you met him to buy your albums because of all the work you were doing to prepare you for your trip, so meeting them was really working in your favor. “You’ve gotta get some kind of paycheck from me, right?” He was enjoying the praise, you could tell.

“I just want to be with you, I don’t need anything from you.” Mark spoke with the sweetest smile on his face. “But, I do like that you care so much.” He shrugged, sitting up and reaching out for your arm. “Come on, let’s go check out Netflix and make ourselves sick on takeout. My treat.” You happily stood up, wrapping your arms around his waist and easily following behind him with your head on his back as he tried to make his way around your house. He was checking everything up and down, being nosy, but you didn’t care. It was his home for the next few days and you wanted him to come back, so it felt like his place too. Mark was your boyfriend for now, at least. You’d enjoy it while you could. “Ah man, this place is crazy!” He spoke in giggles, excitement evident in his voice. “Like I said, our place is nice, but nothing like this!” He admired the beautiful chandelier work, flipping your dimming light switches, and decided to mess with the crystal door handles. He was like a little kid in a candy store. You’d made the place elegant, especially for work parties and personal investment meetings, so you were proud of how it had come along, it was nice for Mark to feel the same way too. “Ya’ll got a pool?” He snorted.

“Yeah, actually, there’s a community pool on the fourth floor, it’s heated too.” You shrugged, hearing Mark sigh happily.

“God, that sounds so nice. We’ll have to go before I leave.”

You pouted in response, not wanting to think about him leaving, you had other things to do and not worry about anything but each other and spending as much time together as you could. You each needed it more than anyone could imagine.

Mark was rather silly, he got bored of the movie he picked super easily, he’d seen the Xander Cage movies so many times that he said even his members got annoyed with it and he was sure to tell you that Donghyuck and Dongyoung were the main ones who said something about it, you noted how cute it was that he used their birth names, it made you feel even closer. He was being sure to show you his music videos, giggling at himself each time he saw himself on screen, making sure you were paying attention and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you’d seen them already even though you were positive he’d just play it off as you liking him.

You’d learned his favorite videos so far were The 7th Sense and Superhuman and was sure to point out that Ten and Taeyong were in each, pointing them out and singing along excitedly. “We have such a fun time filming the videos, they’re the best part of the job.” He told you, trying to keep still as he tangled his legs along with yours on the couch. “We film all over the world, too! We get to travel so much, it’s unreal.” He was grinning like an idiot, pride overwhelming his speech. “Ten was actually supposed to be in 127 with me and Taeyong, but he got hurt and now he’s in WayV with Lucas and-“ he sighed happily. “We’re all just one huge, like, massive family.” The smile on his face was bright, excited to show you each video, trying to figure out your sound system and dancing in his seat.

“You’re so cute.” You reminded him, running your fingers through his hair when he laid his head on your shoulder. He was small and fragile, definitely someone who liked being taken care of but wouldn’t admit it. “You care so much about them.”

“I really do, I didn’t think I’d like literally everyone in a 21 member group, but we all get along pretty well.” he made sure to tell you, checking his phone and you didn’t miss his lock screen picture, a photo of 127 right after the end of the Neo City tour. It was a picture of them all in Vancouver where Mark was from. You recognized it easily. You were keeping up with them more than before, so you were extremely up to date. “We’re missing Jungwoo right now, so it kind of sucks.” He frowned. “And we don’t interact much with Wayv right now, but hopefully next year we’re all gonna be back together again!” He said hopefully, grinning and responding to his texts. You’d seen quite a few unanswered messages, but you wouldn’t pry.

“There’s really 21 of you?” You asked, feeding into his excitement.

“Uh, yeah, it, uh, gets kinda crazy when you get into it, but like, we’ve got 21 in the entirety of NCT,” He laughed, turning his body toward you to fully explain. You knew the explanation well enough to tell anyone, but you’d listen excitedly. He told you about it before, but each time he talked about it you listened, starry eyed and willing to let him explain. “I was in NCT Dream for a while, then I kinda, like, graduated, and now it’s just the younger ones, so I kinda got kicked out.” He laughed again, shrugging. “I miss it, but SM has so many plans for me and I’m just here to follow along and I’ve debuted like ten times at this point.” He was exaggerating, so you were going to play with him.

“Ten?” You snorted, laying your legs across him on the couch as he pulled up some NCT Dream videos, watching him instead as Chewing Gum was the first one playing on the YouTube playlist.

“Well, I debuted four times, but that’s not the point.” Mark was laughing now, giggling as he was eyeing the TV. “God! I look so young! That was only a few years ago!” He shook his head, eyeing the video.

“You’re only 20 now, so you’ve grown a bit. I mean, look at how different Renjun and Jeno look!” You grinned, hoping to pull excitement from him. Mark looked at you with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

“You know the members?” He asked excitedly, blinking and in disbelief. You could play dumb, you’d learned it was a bit more fun that way.

“I pay attention.” You shrugged with a giggle, seeing Mark sigh happily, grin not leaving his face. “My boyfriend is in NCT, I’ve gotta learn a bit about them, right?”

Mark nodded, shrugging playfully. “That’s dedication, I knew I picked a good one.” You couldn’t find it in you to feel guilty because of hos excited he seemed to be. You both shared giggles, feeling him scoot closer and wrap his arms happily around your waist and hug you tight, happy to have someone care so deeply about him. “It’s so exciting, I-“ You felt him tense a little, getting a bit more serious. He sighed heavily, shrugging.

“What?” You prodded, running your fingers back through his hair.

“It-It’s nothing.” He stilled, arms staying around your waist and his head still laying on your chest in the embrace.

“It-It’s just, um,” He sighed again. “I’ve never really dated anyone before, it’s just.. really exciting.” He was bashful, you could feel his cheeks pull into a smile, a small giggle coming from his lips.

Your cheeks were burning up, kissing the top of his head to make sure he didn’t feel too awkward. You didn’t care that he was inexperienced like that, it didn’t bother you. It felt nice that he was opening himself up, you liked being the new experience. “It’s okay, I promise.” You reminded him, moving his hair out of his face as he came back into reality from his confession. “I’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“You’re just, like, amazing.” He was sighing again, this time of relief and you couldn’t stop your own giggle. “And Everyone dates quietly sometimes, but I’ve never had that, really. Like Johnny’s dated a couple people, Baekhyun’s had a few girlfriends, Jongin too, Lucas dated people when he was younger, so now it’s like,” He groaned, obviously slightly embarrassed and he talked a lot when he was nervous. “I’ve got someone.” You were blushing again, loving the way he was confessing; so cute when he was bashful. You heart was beating heavy in your chest, glad to just be making someone so happy. It felt good to you too, finally having someone who you never thought in a million years would be in your home, making sure you knew he was yours. You didn’t expect that conversation to come up out of your knowledge of his members, your guilt being pushed into the back of your mind. You didn’t care at that point, just glad to have him so excited. Maybe you’d confess soon, it almost felt right, but the moment was good, and you didn’t want to change it as he picked his head up, happily pecking your lips and you could easily see the bright blush on his face, giggling when you finally met eyes.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Mark Lee, you are a sap.” You both grinned, pecking his lips once again. “And I like you a lot, so I’m happy to have you as my someone too.” His smile was bright enough to put the streetlights out of business.

“Good, because hopefully you’ll see a lot of me this year.” He snorted, kissing you sweetly again, slightly parting his mouth and you couldn’t help but to laugh. “And I’m excited to see a lot of you.” He spoke against your lips.

“Someone’s eager.” You teased, letting him get entry on your mouth, his soft tongue swiping along your lip and easily moving your legs to lay you under him on the couch, soft laughs coming from the both of you as you kissed passionately. His hands made their way up your sides and squeezed softly. He made a soft noise as his fingers felt your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake, easily thumbing over them. You didn’t mind his pent-up frustrations, rather enjoying that he was riled up all because of you, especially since you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. You liked being his center of attention, you couldn’t deny it.

Mark kissed down your neck, his soft breaths making it evident he was still nervous to be so close, but eager to please you. “Is this okay?” He asked, he always did. The sun was peaking golden in the mid-day even with the lights off. You loved seeing him praise you silently in the glow. He left soft nibbles on your skin, pushing your shirt up just below your chest, his hand smoothing over your ribcage and kissing just above your collarbone. You moved your leg and pressed your thigh between his, giggling at the groan that came out. “Baby,” He soothed, not missing how he softly ground on your skin, loving the attention you gave him.

He moved back up to kiss your lips, soft hands roaming around your thighs and playing with the hem of your shorts. He gently cupped between your legs, kissing you harder as he humped down on your leg through his shorts. The friction was nice and warm, just enough to get you going. Mark was like an eager puppy, loving the not-quite-enough touches.

His finger pressed down between your folds through your shorts, his lips eager to get more leverage, tongue trying to gain access as he steadied himself. For some reason it was really hot that he was using you to get off, you hadn’t quite experienced that before and with Mark it was such an innocent way for him, he was sensitive and you hadn’t seen each other for a while, so the need was obvious. He was panting into your mouth after a moment of grinding on you, whining softly and you couldn’t help but giggle, kissing him back with fervor. You loved the way he felt against you as he slid his fingers under your shorts and underwear, playing gingerly on your clit with the tips of his fingers.

“Mark, baby,” You spoke against his lips, you could tell he was close, his face was hot, and he buried it into your neck as he kept his hips moving, his fingers trying their hardest and making you choke a little on your breaths. “Fuck,” It was a sweet scene, the neediness in his body as you let him use you. His fingers didn’t stop, losing focus and making your vision blur until he stilled his body, heaving breaths in as he reached his high, nearly collapsing onto your body as he whined. You giggled at how spent he was, running your fingers through his hair. You weren’t too worried about getting off, as he was clearly needing it more than you, especially since he spent 98% of his time surrounded by people and he was a pretty hormonal guy, so you understood. He was silent for a moment, trying to come back to reality and you knew the groan from his throat meant he wasn’t proud of himself. He moved his hand back to your thigh, his body warm. He was silent for a moment when you felt him tense up.

“Oh god, oh man, I can’t believe I just did that.” Mark groaned again, pouting and not facing himself toward you. He turned over and laid next to you side by side on the couch, hiding his face in his hands with an obvious stain in the front of his shorts. You could see his embarrassed smile under his wrist, turning over to giggle and scoot closer to him.

“Don’t be shy,” You teased, tapping your fingers against his hand, trying to get him to come back to you. “I liked it.” You admitted, biting your lip and seeing his eye peak from under his hand.

“You did?” He was giggling again, pouting softly and he looked so cute, you couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, I like it when you’re needy.” He groaned again, covering his arm with his face as you tried to ignore the heat in your core.

“God, I sound like a teenager.”

“Mm, a hot teenager.” You both laughed, making you think again, knowing that wasn’t what you meant. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that.”

“Yeah, maybe not.” He was finally laughing again, turning over to lay his arm along your side, tickling your hip. He kissed you much softer this time, his lower lip poking between yours as his fingers made their way back down, grinning into his kiss as they pressed into the waistband of your shorts, slipping underneath to work on you again. You gasped softly into his mouth, moving your leg over his hip as he got better access. He slipped his fingers down and teased around in your arousal, a gasp pulling from his throat when he felt how turned on you were. He stayed for a moment, rubbing at your clit to get you going again before he pressed two digits inside, groaning into your mouth at how wet you were, his thumb rubbing back over your clit. It didn’t take much to get you off, leaving you panting into his mouth and his soft fingers working themselves on you. “Good?” He asked, working you through your orgasm and smoothing over your folds to bring you back to earth.

“Mm, it’s always good with you.” You assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his lips once more. “But you should probably change, I’ll wash your dirty clothes.” You grinned, seeing him nod. “I saw that interview where Johnny said you wash your clothes when you can, so let me take care of you.” He was rolling his eyes immediately. He regretted every interview he’d ever done all at once.

“Alright, alright, don’t embarrass me more, okay.” He teased, sitting up and wishing you to follow him to get his clothes in order.

Things were easy with Mark, much easier than your other relationships, for some reason he had much lower standards and it didn’t take much to amuse, entertain, or impress him. He was adorable and you loved the fact that every time you spoke he had stars in his eyes as if you were the amazing one and the all-famous perfect person of his dreams. You worried vaguely about your future and how you’d end up, but you wanted to have fun for the time being and worry about the craziness later. Luckily you both had the money to see each other pretty often, you would just have to find the time. After seeing his schedule for the year though, you weren’t too worried. You’d have so many opportunities to see him and it made the idea much better.

There was only a hint of sadness once you had finally come to his last night of visiting, you’d spent most of your time relaxing and doing Mark’s laundry to almost rehabilitate him from the hectic tour life, but you also spent 6 hours in Dave & Buster’s together in Hollywood after a very thrilling street show of lookalikes where Mark threw two hundred dollar bills into the tip jar. The Willy Wonka cried, so it was safe to say you enjoyed your time with him. It was your last night together and you wanted to make it special, so of course you were laid in bed finishing the most recent season of Stranger Things.

For some reason, you had also ended up in two groupchat text messages, one with SuperM that somehow always seemed empty when you texted in it, so that was vaguely disappointing, but you did enjoy the chat with some of the guys from 127, a shocking twist, and that one always was very fun. The chat included you and Mark, Jaehyun, Yuta, Johnny and Taeyong, so the combination was always very interesting. You had to hide your excitement when you finally got to talk to them but talking to them normally really made you realize how they were normal people, just like Mark. It felt like a fantasy. You loved being included in the fun and finally having more conversations with Taeyong was nice. You liked him a lot, you thought.

You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but Baekhyun especially didn’t seem to be bothered with you and it only slightly got to your head, but you realized that it wasn’t easy to please everyone. You knew he’d been through a lot in his time and you were sure he knew how dangerous the whole dating thing was and since you and Mark were trying to keep under wraps, maybe it was best if they weren’t all too involved.

So, there you were, tangled up in Mark’s arms as he responded to the “foreigners+yong” groupchat. Johnny named it with pride, he was amused and Taeyong liked it too. They’d thoroughly explained the name to you, and you listened, just enjoying that they were amused by telling you that Jaehyun lived in America for 4 years and where the others were born, you didn’t mind at all.

You sighed into Mark’s chest, thumbing softly over his torso and smiling when he giggled at how it tickled. “God, you’re so cute.” You reminded him with starry eyes.

“Text that in the groupchat, they’ll for real never believe it if you don’t say it.” He teased, smirking as you rolled your eyes at him.

“I don’t have to say everything in a group chat.” You teased him back, grinning when his smile was shining. You sighed happily, laying your head back on his chest. “Mm, let’s order pizza.” You suggested.

“God, yes, I’m starving.” He groaned happily, tossing his phone away from him on your bed. He told you how much he liked your bed and you wished he could stay in it forever, but hopefully it wouldn’t be long until he could again. “And we should order, um, dessert too, because, yeah.” He was giggling again, kissing the top of your head. “Gotta splurge on the last night in paradise. My treat.” You snorted in response, shaking your head and pulling his phone back up to grab it and call for delivery. He didn’t mind showing you his phone and yours was on the charger across the room, so you pulled up Uber Eats and as you were placing the order, you saw a text message from Baekhyun saying to call him when he could.

You’d seen him ignore a few phone calls in the day, opting to deal with the backlash the next day after his flight back home, so you didn’t think much of it. Mark was tapping his fingers on your back to whatever rhythm he was humming as you placed the final order, handing him his phone back. “Baekhyun texted you.” You told him, smiling and seeing his shrug.

“Yeah, he’s been, um, kinda weird since the first leg of the tour ended, I’m not sure what’s up with him.” Mark shrugged, obviously not bothered by Baekhyun’s actions. You figured you shouldn’t be either.

“He said he wanted you to call him.” You heard Mark sigh with a pout, looking down at you as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, uh, call him before we go to bed, I wanna savor this moment and, um, not really think about work.” Mark was smiling. You of all people understood that more than anyone, so you were happy to let him do it. Mark was the one person that helped you forget about work and realize that sometimes living is more important, so you liked that he felt that way sometimes with you. He often told you that Johnny had to force him to focus on his happiness, so you were glad for that, but inside you knew it was nice to have someone like a partner tell you as more than a friend.

Baekhyun was pacing around the EXO dorm, alone. He’d debated on calling Mark for days to confirm scheduling for interviews and photoshoots with SuperM. He wanted to let Mark have his relaxation, but when it got around to him that the younger boy was hanging out with you, his anger rose high in his chest, not believing that he was still in the position to break the two of you up and he hadn’t done it. He was waiting for Mark’s text back, hoping he would come to his senses and stop ignoring his job.

Yes, Mark was technically on a short break between his schedules, but Baekhyun for some reason was the only person managers and the agency were calling to confirm the scheduling for SuperM and he was maybe getting really antsy about it, but he was annoyed that you were still parading one of his members around without him knowing your secret. He was even more annoyed that somehow you’d ended up in a groupchat with them and everyone seemed to be fine with it, even Taeyong who knew about what you were doing.

Baekhyun wasn’t new to the game, he knew how often people pretended to know nothing about them just to get closer and needless to say, it pissed him off and he just wanted everyone to be truthful and let them decide on their own terms if they wanted to pursue anything upon them knowing. Hell, even Jongdae was fine with a non-idol fan time after time and he was even getting married to one, but that was only after his own choice and decision on the matter. Baekhyun groaned loudly, noting that it was nearing four in the afternoon and he hadn’t gotten a response from Lucas or Mark.

He paced around, grumbling to himself and wishing he didn’t have a secret to tell; it was nearly eating him alive and he hated keeping secrets.

He sent Taeyong a text, knowing he’d landed back in Korea just a few days ago and he was supposed to be headed to Spain soon after days of rehearsals with the rest of 127.

Where the hell is Mark?

Baekhyun didn’t mean to be so aggressive, his junior didn’t deserve it. Back at the SM Building, Taeyong was definitely getting back into practice mode for the following 127 tour, he was always practicing for the next thing and Baekhyun knew that. It only took a few minutes before Taeyong responded. Baekhyun had the younger boy’s practice schedule practically memorized by that point.

He’s still in America!! Don’t worry, he’s okay! 😁

Baekhyun didn’t care that Mark was okay. Well, he did, but he had to care more about his new job as a leader above all. Baekhyun audibly groaned, tossing his phone on the couch and trying his best to calm down. He shook his head, annoyed and carding his fingers through his hair. He took a breather before picking his phone back up to respond.

Is he with you know who?

Baekhyun didn’t like being so vague, but he couldn’t risk someone seeing Taeyong’s phone by chance and getting a little too curious, he couldn’t risk anyone else knowing. It would be a PR nightmare if it got out that Mark was with you. Baekhyun didn’t know who was near, so he tried to be subtle. He wasn’t very good at being ominous when he was annoyed.

ummmmmm, I’m at practice, I can call you in a minute and we can talk about it 🥰

Taeyong was always really good at calming them down, always sending little emojis to relax them and Baekhyun couldn’t even try to be mad. He was disgruntled because Taeyong seemed to not be so worried about the situation, but Baekhyun had been in the dating position before and with EXO and their crazy scandals and multiple under-the-table dating situations, he could understand why Taeyong wouldn’t understand what kind of position he was in. What he didn’t know was that you and Taeyong had become somewhat friends and Baekhyun would be furious if he found out. Baekhyun just waited for the call, hoping that Taeyong would tell him it would all be okay. He was a leader himself, so maybe he would be able to help smooth things over. But Baekhyun knew. Baekhyun knew where Mark was if he wasn’t with the other part of his group and somehow the other members being so nonchalant about it annoyed him even further.

Baekhyun hadn’t even told Jongin yet about what he knew. The only person he’d really told was Jongdae and he didn’t offer much help, obviously having more important things on his own plate than a possible dating scandal that didn’t involve him. He’d been through the ringer enough and didn’t care anymore, but Baekhyun couldn’t let anyone else know because he didn’t want to seem like he was messing up his leader position already and he couldn’t afford that. Chanyeol knew and was busy with his own schedules, which was a pain in the ass because he was usually the only one who could calm Baekhyun down. He didn’t offer much more than an ear to listen when he called after the situation went down in Chicago, which wasn’t Chanyeol’s usual game. He appreciated the listening and small attempts to calm him down, but it still didn’t help the stress he was under.

Taeyong - Mobile popped up on Baekhyun’s screen and he gasped when he saw it light up, quickly scrambling to answer.

“Taeyong!”

“H-hi hyung!” Taeyong responded through heavy breaths. The background was silent, so Baekhyun hoped he was in a safe spot to talk. “What-what’s up?” Taeyong was nervous and Baekhyun could tell. He didn’t want to scare the boy, but he wanted to know what was going on.

“Mark’s still in America?” Baekhyun asked with a huff, hearing silence take up the conversation. He continued. “With-“

“Yeah, yeah he is..” Taeyong had cut him off, sighing. “He-um, stayed back to hang out, relax, spend a little alone time before we head to Spain, then back to New York, um, you know, just taking a break.” Taeyong cleared his throat, not knowing what other information to offer.

Baekhyun was pursing his lips, listening to Taeyong talk. He was frustrated, but he didn’t want to take it out on the boy. He had enough on his plate with worrying about 19 other members. “Does he know?”

Taeyong sighed again. Baekhyun tried to keep his cool.

“Does he know that he’s been getting lied to? Does he know yet?” Baekhyun repeated himself, hearing Taeyong sadly breathe through the speaker. Taeyong knew exactly what he was talking about. Taeyong was fully aware that Baekhyun was discussing your neglect to tell Mark about your knowledge of them, about the lightsticks and keychain he found in your bag and the pin nobody knew about. He’d had to hear all about it in their few moments alone in the last bit of the tour. Baekhyun wasn’t exactly quiet about his annoyance, and Taeyong was quite a bit weirded out by it, but Baekhyun was his friend so he was going to let him vent as much as he needed to.

“No..” Taeyong was quiet for a moment, silence speaking louder than words. “I-I haven’t told him.. nobody knows..” Taeyong swallowed, feeling like he needed to make a comment to hopefully calm his senior down, maybe just a little. “Mark’s just.. so happy..” He said quieter, hoping Baekhyun would understand. “Don-don’t tell him yet. Just-let him have this for a minute maybe, I-I guess I understand if you have to, but he’s really enjoying himself and.. we really like them together..” The last part fell off Taeyong’s tongue and he quickly realized he’d spoken too soon, he was in trouble.

“We?” Baekhyun scoffed, feeling a little angrier as the moments passed. He understood that Mark should be happy, but it wouldn’t stop pulling in his gut that he needed to tell Mark the truth. Taeyong felt like crying.

“We’re all, kind of, in a text with them.. Me, Johnny, Yuta, and Jaehyun,” Taeyong heard Baekhyun huff over the phone and he felt his chest get tight, he hated that Baekhyun, his senior he looked up to so much, was so upset by the situation. He just wanted everyone to be happy, Baekhyun couldn’t blame him. “We all get along well..”

“So more people know? Did you not tell them either?” Baekhyun scoffed, slumping himself on the sofa with his fingers pressed to his temples. He was going to be sick if he heard any more come from the conversation blowing up.

“I-No, no I didn’t..” Baekhyun could practically hear Taeyong pouting, he felt bad for nagging the poor boy, especially since he’d done it so much on tour and it was almost out of his ability to stop it, but he could have at least helped. Taeyong had a good head on his shoulders and for the most part his advice was looked up to and people listened to him, but he didn’t know Mark nearly as well and the guy seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders, but Baekhyun wasn’t sure anymore.

“Okay, well,” Baekhyun sighed, loudly. “I do have to tell him; otherwise it’s going to eat me alive.” Taeyong gulped again.

“I-“ Baekhyun expected a rebuttal, but Taeyong didn’t come back. “I understand, hyung.”

“I’m sorry.” Baekhyun didn’t know why he was the one apologizing, but he hated upsetting Taeyong, he hated upsetting anyone, he just wanted things to go smoothly, but they never did. He was realizing that very quickly.

“I really do get it, I wouldn’t want to be lied to either, but,” Taeyong sighed again. “Let him down easy, Mark might be a little crushed, he might be okay, I don’t really know. He’s fragile though.” Taeyong warned, much quieter than the rest of their conversation and he just wished that Baekhyun would think it over. Baekhyun was their leader after all and he called the shots. “I don’t think I have the heart to tell him.” He was honest, at least.

“Well,” Baekhyun hissed softly. “Let’s hope he’s been told, otherwise he’ll have to do some thinking and making some important decisions. For all we know, maybe he knows.”

“Okay, I understand.” Taeyong was very compliant, definitely knowing what kind of position Baekhyun was in. Baekhyun made the decision to stop the conversation immediately not to grill the boy any longer because he didn’t want to crush the poor boy’s feelings toward him. It was silent for only a moment before Baekhyun chimed in, cheerful as ever in comparison to the previous conversation.

“So, um, any idea where Lucas is?” The pair snorted over the phone, Taeyong tsk-ing through the speaker.

“Ten probably didn’t tell you his phone ended up in a lake after a very serious game of truth or dare, huh?” Taeyong was laughing, making Baekhyun finally enjoy something he was being told. It wasn’t ideal, but it was very Lucas of him.

“Oh my god.” Baekhyun laughed louder. “Okay, well I’ll just talk to Ten, then. Thank you.”

“No problem, hyung.” Taeyong was sure to sweet talk. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” It was sweet for him to offer, but Baekhyun had all the information he needed for the time being.

“So, you all ready and packed?” You asked Mark with a pout. It had been nice waking up and Mark had even packed before he got out of his pyjamas, so he embarrassedly was going to end up wearing his usual sleep shorts and a white t-shirt to the airport. You liked how comfortable he was with you and how dorky he was for closing his suitcases prematurely before realizing he should have changed, but he wasn’t going to risk opening the perfectly packed bags. You were busy sorting out a work issue so you couldn’t stop him before the damage was done, but it seemed fitting for Mark’s goofy personality.

“Unfortunately.” He pouted back, crawling back into bed with you and under the covers. You still had a few hours to kill before needing to bring him to catch his flight, so at least he would be comfortable, pulling the blankets over the two of you and practically wrapping himself around you like a koala in regret of having to leave. He’d forgotten to call Baekhyun back, but he had a plan to do it once he got through customs and waited for boarding. He liked leaving work behind sometimes, even if it got him in trouble, but he understood when you couldn’t do the same.

“So, are we going to cuddle until we have to leave, or?” You teased him, kissing his forehead and grinning at how giggly he got.

“I mean, I guess, until I get bored or something.” He was smiling even bigger, looking up at you with stars in his eyes. So, you both did just that, laying together and trying to remember to make sure Mark had grabbed everything he could’ve possibly brought. He made sure to remind you that he was always forgetting things, but he was actually fully prepared, so it made the last few hours uneventful. “But at the same time, it’s nice to just lay here with you.”

“Sappy.” You taunted, scooting down the bed and nuzzling into his neck.

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed, squeezing you tightly and sighing softly into your t-shirt. “You don’t mind though.” You both laughed, sighing again.

“I absolutely do not!” You reminded him. “I love spending time with you and hearing all the cute things you have to say.” You shrugged, feeling how warm he felt, his heartbeat racing in his chest. You stayed quiet for a moment, just staying in each other’s embrace, enjoying the sweet silence as you lay together. “I like your voice.” The silence was different after your last statement, words hanging off the tip of his tongue as he idly fiddled with the fabric of your top.

“I-um.” Mark started to speak, his words catching in his throat. “I love you.” It came out all at once, no warning. His voice was firm, but shaky and you were more than taken by shock, swallowing and trying to process the words you’d just heard. He just told you he loved you and it had you staring at the wall, feeling like you couldn’t breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

There was nothing that could’ve prepared you for the feeling you felt to hear that come from Mark.

It was an odd silence, from the both of you, taking in the weight of the confession and you tried to come up with a half decent response. You loved Mark, you loved spending time with him, but you hadn’t quite thought about it in that way, you were definitely feeling close to being in love with him, it just wasn’t something you predicted, maybe you thought it would fizzle out and the dream would end before you got to that point in your relationship. It didn’t feel like that moment would come.

“You-uh, you don’t- you don’t need to say it back I-“ Mark cut your thoughts off, pulling you out of your head. You needed to hear it; he was the king of making you feel better. “I just thought I should probably tell you, like.” He laughed softly. “I’ve never really done this before, obviously.” He was smiling again; you felt his cheek press against the top of your head. You picked your own head up, pulling away to look at him, his smiling face with the brightest blush on his cheeks. He was almost too cute. You leaned up to him, pressing a firm kiss on his mouth. You didn’t need to say much to him, just being with him was enough, you could sort your feelings out later, but you needed to let him know you were still in it as long as he was.

“I like you a lot.” You reminded him, squeezing him tight into a hug and pecking his lips once again. You wanted to say it back so badly, but you weren’t sure, you needed to think about it at least for a minute and reevaluate your feelings to make sure it was right. “I really do.”

“And that’s fine.” Mark was giggling softly, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest as he scooted up the bed, leaning his head against yours and sighing. “We can talk about it later, okay?” It seemed like he was taking the words out of your mouth, relaxing into the his position and trying to calm down from his confession.

“Okay.” You nodded, biting your lip and trying not to seem too excited. But you were definitely excited, and your feelings were overwhelmed. You thought for a moment about what the right move would be, but you found nothing. “Wanna have sex?” You asked, biting your lip. It felt right and you both couldn’t help from giggling like children.

“I-um, yeah.” Mark nodded, kissing you once again. “Yeah I do.”

Of course, you were intimate one last time before he left, it only felt right.

Once you both pulled yourselves back together, after some heartfelt kissing and getting back dressed, you knew it was time to start heading out to grab a bite to eat and make your way to the airport to separate for who knew how long. Soon he’d be in Spain, then right back in America, so it wouldn’t be too bad. Plus, you doubted contact would be a problem, Mark was a pretty good texter and you’d had enough conversations on the way to lunch and the airport that you were full of conversational topics for probably the next month.

“And here’s your stop.” You pouted softly as you parked in the airport lot, seeing Mark pull on his face mask and hat to return to his idol life. It was amazing how well you two kept quiet to the public, much easier than you thought it would be. People from your part of Los Angeles paid attention to themselves for the most part unless celebrities were specifically supposed to be somewhere. He leaned over and gently kissed you before tugging the mask over his mouth.

“Walk me in!” Mark said excitedly, nudging your arm and his eyes showed he was grinning like a fool. “We’ll get a couple more minutes together.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” You didn’t hate airports, but you weren’t the biggest fan of them, plus it was dangerous in case someone recognized him leaving, and you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, plus it was daylight. However, you’d do it for Mark. You parked, getting out and helping him grab his bags of, thankfully, mostly fresh and clean laundry. At least you could be useful for something to him.

You walked with your arms by your sides, just in case, and walked one of his bags as he had the other.

He still hadn’t called Baekhyun yet and that worried you just a little, but you wouldn’t comment on it, it was his business. And sure enough, as you finished checking his bags in, Mark’s phone was ringing again. Mark sighed heavily as he glanced down at the name, shaking his head. He had 2 missed calls from his senior from the night before, but he was waiting until the last possible moment and it seemed like, as if he was on queue and ready. It was time. Mark sighed sadly, finally picking up the phone.

“Hey,” Mark started, swallowing and trying his best not to be annoyed that he was being brought back to work prematurely. “Yeah, I’m at the airport now, my flight leaves in an hour.” His voice flowed smoothly and he knew he was in trouble, but he would try to lighten the blow by being forward and polite.

You worried slightly, but you had to trust he was alright. He sighed heavily.

“Yeah, I’ll call you as soon as I land down.” He was nodding again, pursing his lips together and waiting to stand in line to go through customs. You heard Baekhyun speaking quietly over the phone. “Noon, tomorrow.” You weren’t sure what was being said, but you could tell he wanted to get off the phone already and hug you goodbye, checking around you to make sure nobody was around, and he wasn’t being followed. It came with the job you guessed. “Okay, I’ll see you then. Bye, hyung.” Mark groaned as soon as he was off the phone, looking back up at you with a sad smile. “Back to work, I suppose.” He snorted, sighing again.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” You said softly, admiring how even with a mask on, he still looked adorable. He answered with a nod. “Tell the guys I said hi.” You both snorted. You hadn’t gotten a chance to meet anybody but the members in SuperM, but you hoped your friendship would hold.

“I’ll see you later.” Mark nodded again, stepping forward and hugging you close, warm and inviting as if leaving was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Hey, Mark.” Your voice spoke up before you could stop it. You’d been thinking about Mark’s confession all day and came to the realization quickly, but it was hard to register you were going to say it. The words hadn’t really come out so quickly with anyone ever. “I love you.” You announced quietly, ignoring the heat of your face. Mark sighed, but this time it sounded much more relieved. You did love Mark. You suddenly wanted to shout it from the rooftops. It had been stuck in your throat for longer than you wanted it to, and Mark felt like fresh air and it was all so new, but you just had to find the words and the right time. That was it. It felt so early, but not early enough all the same.

“I love you too.” He whispered before walking backwards into the line of checking himself in. You watched him glance at your lips as he walked and you so badly wanted to run forward to kiss him, but the situation made it impossible. You’d hold out. “I’ll see you soon! Promise!” He shouted half-heartedly, finally separating from you and going through the doors for security. You couldn’t wait to see him again.

Taeyong could stop the heartbreak, he knew he could, but he didn’t know if he had the heart to crush Mark like that. He knew how much Mark liked being truthful, up front, and honest, but Taeyong could see and got told often how much fun he had with you and how much he liked you, so he didn’t know how to either bring it up or stop Baekhyun from doing it. Taeyong was going to do it when Mark got back; he made up his mind to get to him before Baekhyun did, he thought he could bring the blow easier than someone with such pent up anger about the situation. Mark would be farther away from you and maybe take it better and Taeyong could help calm him down, so that was his plan.

But Taeyong was a bit too late. He thought Mark would get picked up by their drivers and go immediately to the shared dorm, not get picked up by Baekhyun himself. Taeyong was too busy with his own schedules to even think of that possibility.

It was a long flight, Mark had been too preoccupied and giggly to get any rest, excited for how his future was going, especially leaving the two of you on such a good note. He was feeling amazing, almost too good to be true, but he would try his best not to jinx it. He took the liberty of making a playlist to remind him of good times with you and the songs that made him feel excited throughout the last few weeks. He felt cheesy for it, but it would entertain him and keep his mind busy.

The flight felt like it was going by fast, watching movies and letting his mind drift off to his fun time spent. He finally felt like he’d had a vacation, a real one without cameras or the people he was always with. He felt relaxed and excited for how he’d be spending his next few weeks. He knew he had the parade with 127 in New York, but even just the thought of being close and on similar time zones again was keeping him so excited. The fact that he had another show with SuperM in February to come made it even more bearable because he knew he’d be close to you and he was already planning all his visits in advance.

Mark felt good and in control for the first time since he debuted. It was a relatively foreign feeling, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. Mark was pretty stoked, to say the least. He sighed happily as he watched his movies and had a few drinks with nobody bothering him on the plane. It was safe to say he thought it couldn’t get any better. He was absolutely sad to leave you, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he saw you again.

Mark kept checking his phone, going through the pictures you’d taken together and grinning at the stupid selfies and off-guard pictures he’d gotten of you. They were going to be what kept him grounded, he knew it. He sighed happily, trying to at least get a nap in toward the last quarter of the flight, knowing it would be nearing midnight in the states and Baekhyun was famous for taking people’s time and rewarding them with lunch. He didn’t know how much sleep he would get in, but the jet lag would probably make it worse.

When Mark woke up, he was a little more than surprised to see the how bright the light was, signaling that he would be landing soon, and he’d be back at home. He was well rested, but something in his gut didn’t feel right. He hadn’t talked to you through the whole duration of his flight, unfortunately the Wi-Fi wasn’t working, and it was finally starting to settle inside of him how much he missed you, even if he’d just spent days with you and he’d see you again soon. As soon as he stepped off the plane he would be back to work and it hit him that his fantasy world was over so quickly. He frowned a bit, sighing and staring out of the window until he landed, his earphones playing the playlist as he tried to relax. He always forgot how much he hated sleeping on a plane ride, waking up made him feel restless and anxious.

Deboarding made Mark feel a little more easy, grabbing his bags and sighing as he walked out. He figured he was just sad to go back to work, sad to be stressed out again, and sad to be back on an intense schedule, but he knew with time he would get over it; get back into his routine and feel good about it all again. He made his way out of the plane, walking through the airport he knew so well to grab his bags and get back home. Maybe being home and cozy in his bed would make him feel better. Or he’d pout for a few days while on his schedules. Either was possible.

He walked outside after grabbing his bags, a yawn pulling from his mouth when he saw the cloudy skies and tried to make his way out of the airport. Jet lag was going to be a pain in the ass after being in the states for so long. What kind of car did Baekhyun drive again? He thought, sighing heavily when he heard a horn beep from a car he recognized as his senior’s, hoping nobody would approach or stop him. Mark didn’t want to be bothered at that moment, especially by fans.

Mark heard one loud “Lee Mark!” that pulled his attention, only one fan that waved at him and quickly scattered away. He shot them a soft smile and wave, thankful that it wasn’t going to be an issue. He didn’t know if he could handle an issue. Baekhyun got out of the vehicle, quieter than Mark had ever heard him, and he helped Mark put his bags in the trunk, giving him a silent and small ‘welcome home’ to be more welcoming, but as soon as he realized that Baekhyun was too quiet, he knew something was up. Baekhyun was nowhere near a quiet person, usually excited and bubbly and talking about anything and everything when he saw anyone. Mark was in trouble. He didn’t know what for, but the way Baekhyun’s face stiffly smiled at him, something was definitely wrong. He had a feeling he should be quiet, but the silence was deafening as his elder slipped into the vehicle.

“Um, hey-hey hyung.” Mark shot him a soft smile when he got in, trying to ease the weight of whatever was going to happen. He knew it was something bad, his gut nagging at him.

“How was your trip?” Baekhyun’s voice was harsh behind the words, making Mark gulp. He didn’t know if he should answer truthfully or not, because neither seemed like the right way, but he wanted to remain truthful. He wasn’t aware of Baekhyun’s feelings toward you, but he knew ignoring his work responsibilities for a relationship he wasn’t allowed to be in wasn’t his smartest move with his leader and responsibilities.

“It was actually, um, really nice, yeah. I had a good time. I relaxed.” He said honestly, dancing around the subject. Mark tried to smile again, looking forward and trying to ignore the heavy beating in his chest.

“Well, I-“ Baekhyun cleared his throat, almost an annoyance in his scoff. “I’m glad you had a good time, but you could’ve been a little more responsible.” Mark gulped again, hearing the obvious bite in Baekhyun’s tone. Mark felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, but he knew it would be better to ignore it for the time being. Whatever it was could wait, he was technically dealing with business. Baekhyun sighed and Mark could tell he was trying to calm himself down. “Why don’t we-why don’t I take you to lunch?” He asked the younger boy. “My treat.”

“That-um, sounds like you’ve got something scary to tell me.” Mark laughed nervously, scratching the hair on the back of his neck in hopes that he was wrong. He wasn’t.

“Yeah, well.” Baekhyun scoffed again, shrugging and Mark knew he was about to be crushed. He was hoping to be grilled about being responsible, he hoped that he’d just get chewed out; he could handle that. He knew he’d been loosely handling his schedules and been a bit sloppy, so he was okay with getting a good talking-to. His stomach hurt, nerves building in his abdomen and the last thing he wanted to hear was that he had to break it off with you; he wasn’t sure he could handle that. You’d been the source of his happiness and an escape for weeks now and he didn’t want to lose it.

Baekhyun had brought Mark to one of his favorite restaurants, trying to ease the blow of what he had to say a little. Mark hated to be let down and every time he thought about the possible bad news he’d be getting, his heart would start racing a million miles a minute and his tension had Baekhyun resisting. He went against his better judgement because he knew he would get angry, but he switched to a subject he knew would perk the boy up. You.

Baekhyun listened half-heartedly hearing him talk about you because he pushed to know what actually went down while Mark was ignoring him in America. He wanted to be told the truth and it came gushing from Mark’s mouth. Baekhyun had no interest in you at all, in fact he was actually pretty pissed that Mark did have such a good time and it upset him to have to rain on his parade because of something you could have controlled. Mark had clearly attempted to forget about the conversation they were supposed to be having, trying to focus in on the food and being optimistic when Baekhyun actually asked about you through gritted teeth. He ignored the undertone in his voice and spoke excitedly at the mention of you.

Mark was focused on the hole in their conversation for a few moments finishing his main course when he heard Baekhyun go quiet. The two of them sitting in an awkward quietness was eating Mark up and when his senior was tapping his fingers on the table, he knew it was time to speak up. “So-“ Mark cleared his throat. “What-what were you gonna, um, talk to me about?”

Baekhyun sighed heavily, he’d prolonged the conversation and heard Mark drone on about you for long enough. It was time. “Your friend.” Mark choked a little. He knew the subject would be about that, but the way Baekhyun brought it up felt weird. He was just talking about you and Baekhyun was the one who asked about you in the first place. What had changed so quickly that Baekhyun was suddenly changing his bad news to being about you.

“Wh-what’s it about?” Mark tried to ignore the pounding in his chest.

“I really don’t think you should see each other anymore.” The ball dropped. Baekhyun deadpanned, lips pursed in slight annoyance at the statement that had to come out of his mouth, holding back what he really needed to say. “It’s not what you think is going on, and I’d really like to save you from the seriousness of dating as an idol. It isn’t pretty.” He continued. “Things get dangerous, people aren’t nice. You can’t risk things like this for people. I mean for god sakes we have a dating ban for a reason.” Baekhyun scoffed. Mark had debuted four times; he was well aware of how dating and stuff like that went in the contract and maybe he had been a little careless in telling so many people, so he vaguely thought that’s what Baekhyun was talking about.

“I-I know, but,”

“I’m not finished, there’s more to this than you think.” Baekhyun didn’t know why he couldn’t find the words. Maybe he just really didn’t want to let the boy down. He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts. “People-“ He sighed. “People just aren’t what you think they are, okay?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. He could tell Baekhyun was avoiding what he wanted to say. “What is this..actually about, hyung?” Mark swallowed, knowing exactly where the conversation could lead. Baekhyun was fishing into his pocket, grumbling quietly under his breath and tugging something out before tossing it on the table. Mark was even more confused now. Sitting in front of him was a broken NCT keychain and a photocard of Baekhyun’s face. The very ones he had taken from your suitcase and wallet. Maybe it was an extreme violation of your privacy that Baekhyun suddenly felt very aware of, but he had to have something to back himself up. “I don’t understand, what is this stuff?” Mark said seriously, raising a brow and eyeballing the items.

“I found this in your friend’s belongings.” Baekhyun shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He was being cryptic, and Mark didn’t like it.

“Stop saying it’s my friend, we’re dating.” He spat, the first time he’d gotten stern with anyone. Mark was continually more and more lost.

“Your friend,” Baekhyun repeated firmly. “This keychain was in the suitcase in the room you two were staying in when you graciously had someone follow us on tour when that’s strictly forbidden. It was broken off to obviously hide something. The photocards however were in the wallet from the desk, along with a Lucas one, so it seems highly unlikely that it was just coincidence. It’s from the Exodus album, so it can’t really be played off as a SuperM album card they just so happened to pick up for fun just by chance, it was pre-planned. I’m not stupid; I can put two and two together.” Baekhyun was generally a good guesser, speaking entirely too formerly and rehearsed to a T, and unfortunately he was correct. You had broken the keychain off and you weren’t proud of it, but that keychain was way past your mind the second it was off of your wallet and you hadn’t even noticed the missing photocard at all. “And dating?” Baekhyun scoffed. “You’ve known each other for like two months, give me a break.” He words felt harsh and Mark gulped. He couldn’t believe that Baekhyun would have gone through your things. It didn’t seem like his type.

“You…went through a suitcase that wasn’t yours?” He scoffed. “Were you, like, trying to find something?” Mark was irritated and there was no hiding it.

“I was, actually.” Baekhyun stated firmly, not caring what Mark had to say about it. He’d found his footing and was ready to throw it all on the table. “Something seemed fishy and I shouldn’t have done it, but it led me here.” The older shrugged. “You know what else was in that suitcase?” He asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What?” Mark asked angrily, rolling his eyes and he couldn’t believe someone he trusted so much was basically spitting in his face.

“Literally every one of our lightsticks.” Baekhyun squinted a little, not really liking the attitude Mark was giving him. “There was one for everybody and the only one I ever saw outside of it was the SuperM one. It’s not a good sign, man. You’ve been getting lied to and you got trapped into dating a fan, without even knowing. It’s happened to so many of us, dude and it’s devastating, like-“

“I-I-I-“ Mark sighed. “I honestly, like, don’t really believe you.” It was the first time Mark ever talked back to his senior, earning a soft laugh from him.

“I know you don’t, I’m not dumb.” Baekhyun shrugged, thanking the waiter when he’d dropped off the dessert and check. “But if you trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I looked into your friend’s Instagram and found some posts, stuff saying about how much you’re loved and all three of them, the ones that that threw the first party you went to, all bias you and Lucas. They got deleted but I have screenshots.” Baekhyun moved to pull his phone out but Mark quickly stopped him. Mark could swear he felt his own heart break.

“Don’t-don’t show me.” Mark shook his head, looking down at the table. Maybe Baekhyun was right. Mark couldn’t believe it; he didn’t want to. He was just stunned to hear that you’d been lying to him for months. He hated being lied to, everyone knew that, and he wanted to have just a simple relationship and when he thought he finally had it, the idea was slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to be in the situation at all, he didn’t want to disappoint Baekhyun, he just wanted a little happiness and suddenly, he was very aware of how much trouble he had caused. He was scared, angry, confused. He didn’t know what to do.

“I have them if it eases your mind. It’s your choice.” Baekhyun shrugged, taking a sip from his drink and sighing. He wanted to let Mark process, maybe he’d feel better. “If it makes you feel any better, Taeyong knows and he think’s everything’s peachy, so.” Baekhyun shrugged, sighing.

“Wait, wait wait.” Mark scoffed. “Taeyong knew? And he didn’t tell me?”

“He didn’t want to hurt you, he liked how happy you were.” Baekhyun said honestly. “I didn’t really want to tell you either, but aren’t you glad you know?” Mark tried hard not to be appalled at the question.

“I-um,” He sighed. “I wish I could say yes, but, like, a part of me feels like I wish I didn’t.” Mark spoke honestly before he groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I’ve literally always been told I’m so naive and this really tops the cake.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Baekhyun asked, trying to push the solution on. Mark didn’t like figuring things out like this, but Baekhyun was ridiculously stubborn and he was going to want an answer before they left the table even if it was hard on him.

Mark was beyond answering that question, sitting in silence and ignoring the dessert on the table. He’d wanted it so badly before, but now his stomach was deceiving him. “I, like,” He sighed again. “I really don’t know.” In his head, the situation could have so easily been solved had you been honest with him, but he was there across the world, without you to talk to about it and you had to absolutely have been sleeping. He knew you had to go to work after he left and he hoped you’d had a decent shift, but he couldn’t lie and say he wanted to talk to you about it. He didn’t. He was the master of avoiding those kinds of situations, but he just needed some time to think. “I kinda think I should talk to Taeyong.”

Baekhyun nodded, shoving the plate of dessert toward Mark.

“No, thanks.” Mark shook his head, sighing and unlocking his phone to see that you’d texted him a few times. He didn’t have the heart to look right then, his head was much too fuzzy and he didn’t want to be mad at you so soon, but it felt like his whole world was crashing down in front of him even if it was all so new. He should’ve taken the time to realize that such an issue so soon should have been the end of it all, but he felt so wrong. He felt disgusted with himself. What would everyone else think? He’d put his friends in danger by introducing you in the first place. The room was spinning slightly and he didn’t know what to do.

“Let’s get you home.” Mark could only nod, following Baekhyun out after he signed the receipt.

The ride home was way too quiet, Baekhyun only turning up the radio to break the silence. Mark stared out the window and felt like a child having a tantrum, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything else. Mark shot Baekhyun a quick “thanks” when he pulled up to the dorms, letting him out and Baekhyun went home himself, hoping to at least hear from Mark soon about how he felt. He didn’t expect much, he did just crush the guy. Only time could tell what would happen.

#nct #nct smut #mark lee smut #mark lee #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #superm ten #tommowrites #nctfic #unintentional

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ifandomalot · 5 years

Text

This is Love. (2/3)

Summary: Steve makes you realize, touching isn't always so bad. Along with that there are consequences for actions that you have to live with. Steve makes a decision that might mean he losses you and his unborn baby forever.

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, kidnapping, fighting, girl got some abandonment issues bc of this ya feel. But this is a timeline week by week, mention of abortion. Also i did not proof read this, a bitch is lazy so.

Part 1 / Part 3

The bright light of the sun peaks through the cracks of broken curtains, the small breaks of brightness illuminating the soft features of your face. Steve's eyes flutter, long eye lashes form a pattern of touching his cheeks and below eyebrows, the body’s way of deciphering if it was time to get up. Even stuck between the veil of mumbling tiredness and real life, his eyes don't lie to him, it was clear, you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

Small breaths from parted lips, patterns of sleep red against your cheeks, he smiles softly. His hands are gently as they rub the fading bruising, wanting to add some love to the pain.

He decides to allow you to sleep, showering and getting ready for the day before slipping into the kitchen to make breakfast. He was nervous around you, he wanted to talk, but really didn’t know what to say. The majority of the morning was spent thinking of the right words, how he should apologize.

Steve’s breath hitches when he sees you. A lady named Wanda introduced herself to you, and offered you new clothes, which of course was accepting seeing all you had were Steve’s.

“Um, I, Hi.” Steve is red, a mumbling mess. He’s spent hours practicing the right words but forgot them instantly. Beautiful, your hair still a little wet from the shower, a simple white t-shirt and a pair of jeans showing the curves of a woman. Steve almost feels guilty thinking about you in this way, especially since he knows exactly what you look like under those clothes. “I made you breakfast.”

He wants to press his hand on your back, lead you to the stool on the kitchen island but instead extends his hand to the pile of french toast. Steve isn’t hungry, sleep or hunger don’t come easy, instead he lives on guilt and self-pity.

You pick at the food, Steve’s constant stare makes you nervous. Every time you look up, he’s looking at you. Steve clears his throat, managing to finally squeak the words out. “I’m sorry. For, what happened.”

His touch maybe was unwanted, but he didn’t hurt you, If anything he saved you. You didn’t blame him for this, unlike Steve. He was just as much a victim as you were. “You did what you had to do.”

“I could’ve did better, I could’ve said no or fought them when they tried to come in and get you.” You shake your head. He wasn’t the reason why you hated being touched, the men before him ruined it for you, spoiled a chance at ever being normal.

“If anything you saved me, if it wasn’t for you I would still be there.”

“I don’t like this feeling I have. It feels like I wronged you and I’m sorry.” Small tears of frustration fill his eyes, he swears he’s never cried this much before like these two days.

“I don’t blame you.” You stand, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. With Steve breaking down like this you were practically useless, no comfort to anyone. You leave quickly, leaving Steve to drown in his pool of guilt by himself.

The first week is hard, he tries to talking to you but you just continue to blow him off but someone still end up in his bed at night, no talking, just the security of knowing he won’t let them take you away again.

The following week there is progress, you take your time by end up joining him for breakfast every morning, accompanying him on his run. Your night time routine filled with way more conversations, he finds out your favorite flowers are sunflower and it matches you, the sun always finds it’s way on your skin, you’re his little sunflower. But he never dares to touch you.

The third week is when he finally does it. It’s a late night, the two of you decided to watch a movie. The warmth of the covers makes you sign, winter was coming, snow was always your favorite, if only it wasn’t so cold. “Are you cold honey?”

Steve had developed this habit of nick name calling, it didn’t bother you much, quite honestly made your cheeks heat up, you felt safe with him. “A little.”

Steve is unsure, his eyes keep flickering to yours then to his hands. What if you didn’t want to sleep with him anymore if he tried?

“I-I can warm you up.” The suggestion made you tense, Steve would never hurt you, not intentionally, but the thought of someone’s hands against your skin made you sick.

“I, ugh -.” You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you didn’t want him to think he was the reason you didn’t like being touched because it wasn’t true. Nothing good ever came with a male putting his hands on you. The look on his face made you guilty, he looked like he was going to cry. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Steve shakes his head, “I want you to want me to touch you, not because you feel guilty. My touch is good.”

Warmth radiated off his bare chest, your hand looked so small compared to the smooth skin. “I trust you cap.”

A small smile with no teeth makes your heart pound, never has a man made you feel so safe. His hand gently rests against your wrist, taking it slow as finger tips trace every freckle, every beauty mark of your arm, pads of his thumb soaking up your collar bones, dips in them. Eyes flicker from your skin, to your eyes. A magical moment, where you feel like your floating. The length of your neck and stop at your lips. Thumb so soft against the fat skin of your lip, he’s breathing heavier now, he wants to kiss you but can’t find himself too. “You’re beautiful.”

It only a few days later when the nightmares start, the imagines of hands choking you, touching you inappropriately, hurting you. Steve wakes from your whimpers, your yells and in seconds he’s shaking you, begging you to wake up. The moment your eyes meet his, you shoot up punching him dead in the nose. “Get away from me!”

Blood trickles down the cleft of his lip, it didn’t hurt, not as much as his heart aches for you right now. “It’s me, It’s just me.”

Hot tears burn cheeks as you wrap the blanket closer to your body, cowering away from him but the head board stops you. “It’s me sweetheart, It’s Steve.”

This time when he touches you, you feel calmed, relaxed. His touch is good. Realizing it is only him, not the salient that haunts your dreams, in an instant you wrap your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. Fingers knot your hair as he whispers soft words, “I got you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Soon after he learns everything about you, why they took you, what they did to you. Stories you thought you would never share but with Steve it was so easy, talking to him was easy. It became a pattern, sleeping together, sharing meals, going out, small dates, it all seemed to fall into place.

“Steve?” A book is tucked secretly in your lap, a gift from him. Legs stretched across his lap, a pair of glasses make him look older, not in a bad way at all. He is also reading, but eyes meet yours.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Steve chokes as the words hit ears. The soft music in the back ground no longer heard, just heavy beating of his heart as his mouth dries. Honestly, he’s thought about it. You have very tempting lips but the matter was he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, with it only being a month since everything, it just didn’t seem like enough time.

Time was good to you though. Weight was put on, nightmares were almost non existent, Steve had shown you the touch wasn’t always bad, that it can be for comfort, for fun, or just because you care about someone. He had started taking you out in the city, trying new food, and to the extent every Friday you went to the bookstore together.

Blush heats his skin red, chest blotchy with dots and nose warmed. “I-I thought about it.”

“Do you like me?”

Steve watches curiously you sit up, crossing your legs and face him. “I think I like you, I’ve never felt like this with someone.”

Steve felt his heart thump, over and over again. Not believing the words. “I like you a lot, sweetheart.”

“A lot?”

“A lot, lot.” Steve’s fingers reach out, running along the bone of your jaw, and highest points of cheeks. “You’re very beautiful, and I do want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first night you slept in my bed.”

Slowly you lean forward, lips tingling at the thought of his against them. The prickly hairs of his beard tickles your chin, smooth lips meet yours. It was effortless, filled with small breaths, lips meeting lips with such passion it warms his body. It isn’t long, he doesn’t want to push you too far but can’t deny the smile you give him makes his knees weak.

“This feels even better than hugging you.” He smirks at your comment, eyes roaming the beautiful, soft skin of your face. “feel free to do it all the time, sweetheart.”

The next week is scary, all of a sudden you’re sick. Nausea is not your friend, certain foods make you gag to the point he takes you to the doctor. It doesn’t take long, the doctor walks in with a smile, and it confuses him.

“Well congratulations in an order, dad.” To say Steve isn’t happy is and understatement, and the look on your face matches. The car ride is spent with tears, and on his half he’s lost in his head.

“We need to talk about this.” Steve finally speaks one the pair are tucked safely in their room, away from the prying ears of the team.

“I can’t have a baby!” Freaking out is an understatement, you are panicking, eyes puffy red and the tears just can’t stop flying. “I can’t even handle myself.”

Steve’s chest is filled with emotion that threatens to pour out as tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen but he doesn’t understand why he didn’t think this was a possibility, two months ago it had to happen at least twenty times, he filled you twenty times, to be fair he though he was infertile, that the ice took away his ability to produce.

Kids were something of his old life’s dream, a man that didn’t have the responsibility of keeping the world safe. He didn’t want this baby, this baby was made in the darkest times of his life, the times that reminded him of exactly what he was; a monster.

It was an everyday conflict, seeing you made him think of those times but having you cuddled in his chest, kissing his lips made him forget them, made the moment numb to the pain.

“I can’t be a father, I’m going to fuck it up.”

Steve felt bile rise in his throat the moment you mentioned it, “We have to get rid of it.”

“Kill it? A baby?” Having it didn’t sit right with him but killing it? That was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s a baby, we can’t.”

“You expect me to having this baby with no intention of raising it, I don’t want it.” It even felt sour in your mouth, but you couldn’t give the child what it needed. You couldn’t emotionally support it, you couldn’t give it the comfort it needed, what if the touch of it made you sick like others?

“There are other options, lots of people in this world want a baby.” Steve is a mess, he eyes heavy with tears. The guilt of this will for-surely eat him alive too.

The next day Steve is gone before you wake up, throat is raw from yelling, eyes hurt, physically hurt when they’re opened, too many tears passed them. French toast is on the table, a glass of orange juice and a bowl of strawberries, still hot, not made too long ago.

Steve’s loud voice could be heard from the room along with mumbling of others. Everyone was gathered in the conference room, papers in hand. You decide to join them, talk about what happened last night since there was no doubt they heard the screaming.

Steve hadn’t noticed that you had entered, his looked towards the screen. The face of the man that tormented you for years, case file on show for everyone to see. Pictures of you sliding with the touch of his fingers. You felt dirty, him showing you off like some helpless victim. “We need to move out later for he doesn’t relocate and we loose him again.”

“You’re leaving?” It was a small squeak, everyone’s eyes shifted towards you. Buck’s meeting the guy who was supposed to be guarding the front door with clear annoyance, you weren’t supposed to be in here.

“It won’t be for long. We’ll talking about this later sweetheart.” Steve looked terrible, dark circles under his eyes, hair messily slid back not brushed like normal.

“Later? You just said you were going to be gone.” You argue, heart pounding against your chest as Nat clears her throat. “Let’s give them some alone time.”

“No, we’ll finish the plan, then I will talk to you.” Hard eyes, that leave no room for argument.

“Don’t bother Steven, I didn’t expect you to stay anyways.” The use of his full name is so foreign against your tongue, the hateful gaze makes his chest tight, but he stands his ground, arms crossing against his chest as you walk out without another word.

Hours passed, not another word from anyone, the team decided it was best to leave you be, Steve also thought it be best to give you some time to cool off. The kitchen per usual being your favorite place to be, the breakfast nook naturally had the most light, perfect amount to read a book in silence, watch snow fall peacefully.

Steve was quiet, sneaking up to perch himself on the door frame, eyes roaming over the long column of your neck, the concentration on your face as lips move but no sound as you quietly read the words on the page. The sun always seemed to have a beautiful habit of finding your face, illuminating the natural, raw beauty of you. But the moment his eyes lower from the dips in your collarbones to your stomach, he feels his heart sink, guilt igniting inside the pit of his stomach. "Sweetheart."

The words are spoken so softly but sneak up on you, jumping with a gasp he's right next to you, apologizing quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Your face said it all, you will still angry with him. Eyes glaring, it made him sigh, "i think we should talk about this."

His appearance said it all, tact suit was perfectly tailored for him, stretching over every muscles, every swell of man, if you weren't so mad, you would maybe even tell him it looked good. "Why? Seems as if you made up your mind."

You stand, walking away, picking at the plate of cookies on the kitchen island. The situation was stressful and at the moment it seemed effortless to even try but Steve followed, obviously having other plans.

"I am doing this for you." Steve's voice is softly spoken despite his eyebrows raising, jaw clenching, his teeth clenched in annoyance. How could you not see why he's was doing this? Everything he's done is for you, and from now on will always be, especially the seed of his in your womb.

"Don't you say that! You're doing this for you!" Your voice raises, fingers gripping the end of the counter in anger. The truth was clear, Steve didn't want to stay here, everytime he looked at you he felt guilty for what he had done, now trapped with him because of the fact of pregnancy.

"How could you say that?" Jaw muscle flickering, eyea darkening, the anger starting to take over. It filled his veins with molten lava that flowed and bubbled inside his chest. "They did this to you!"

It felt bitter on his tongue, talking about a baby like this. A small, innocent baby that had no idea of the mess of parents it will have. The situation it will be brought in, and the tragic story of how it was conceived.

"You just want to leave because you can't stand the fact that I'm pregnant by you and either you or I dont want it!" The truth hurts, from the moment you told him all Steve has felt was a lump of emotions heavy against his chest, at night it was worse, when you fell asleep all he felt was the crush weight ecoing 'this is your fault'.

Steve's face grows red, big swells of arms crossing over his chest. Standing taller as if he was trying to intimidate you. "You think that's true?"

"You know it. You can't look me in the eyes and say its not. This is for you, they look your sense of security away, stripped you of what you believed in." Despite the anger that filled you, small hands pull on his arm, breaking the wall to beg him to look at you. "Don't go steve, what if they get you again? Don't leave me alone."

It was small, a kiss of comfort against your forehead even though adrenaline of yelling at each other still had him up, pumped and ready to go. "I won't leave you, I'll be back, I'll be a week tops."

"Then just fucking go already!" Unwanted tears welled up, it was strange, usually so intact with emotions, mostly because you tried to show you had none. The bedroom wasn't far but trying to out walk Steve was hard, especially if he had a mission, and in this case making you okay with this.

"Just stop, okay? I will be back, I'm not leaving you."

The door was shut in his face and locked. The sounds of your sobs making him sigh, forehead pressing against the door in frustration. "Y/N, open the door."

No answer. His hand wrapped around the knob, knowing it would break under is strength but was it really worth it? Invading your space, not allowing you to have this time to think. It would be easier, leaving like this, not another word but the cowards way but lately he has felt like a coward.

Steve backed away from the door, despite the pounding of his heart screaming at him not too. Feet carried him down the steps, out the front door where Bucky and Sam were waiting for him. He gives a nod, the fakest smile manageable. "Ready."

Steve was a coward, a man that swore he was here, he would help you. Steve left because he couldn't take the fact you were pregnant with his child, the one he didn't want, the one you didn't care for so much either. A child that could never be loved, a spawn of true evil. Another reminder of what he's done to you. Another reminder that he will never be the same person.

The first few nights was hard sleeping alone, it was lonely too. Wanda and Natasha would talk to you, but there was only so much to be said. They always wanted to take you shopping or out for the day but books are where you found comfort. Weeks passed by, Steve would ask to talk but you always said no when Nat would ask. It was lonely but suddenly it was not, as you couldn't help but notice the swelling of your stomach. A small baby gifted from all the pain you have gone through.

The baby was always there, those nights you couldn't sleep, the nightmare that haunted you, the smiles, all those books you read in a span of two months, whenever worried or fearful your hand found your belly, the reason for this tragic life given.

The morning was one of warmth, heat of the sunshine warming bare skin, sleeping naked because clothes were always hot. According to your doctor the body was raising your body temp by almost 10 degrees, warm just like his father. It was no surprise, maybe there was super serum coursing through his veins. The buttery smell of waffles and warm syrup hit you instantly, stomach growling. Sweet food was something you couldn't get enough of.

"Is that waffles I smell Nat?" You sing song as corner the stairs but suddenly your appetite was gone. After two whole months it was almost bizarre to see his face, hair longer and pushed back, beard full as ever. He still looked handsome despite the fact that small cuts littered his face, bottom lip split into two.

"Nat told me you like sweet things now." It was pathetic really, after what he had done he thought two waffles could win you over?

Beautiful as ever, Steve couldn't help but let his eyes wonder. A sight he's missed for so long. The ghost of you seemed to visit him every night, taunting him with visions of playing with your hair, feeling the soft skin of your face under his thumbs. Even now his fingers burn at the despire to feel it, the softness and pleasure of it. The look on your hurt face said otherwise. He feels his own heart drop as your hands cup your belly in comfort, the child he never wanted but seeing you so round made it so real.

Tears burn your eyes, anymore emotions weren't your own. Turning a heel, you wanted to get a far away from him as possible.

"Honey, honey." His words that once made you blush and warm, were nothing. He was nothing.

Rough collasled fingers touch you so delicately, stopping you from moving, trapping you between the kitchen island and him. "Don't run away from me."

"Dont call me honey." You challenged despite the tears that slipped past eyelashes and left hot trails on cheeks. "Keep your honeys, keep your sweethearts, don't even say my name."

"I am sorry." He begs lowly, he keeps one hand flat against the island, the other reaching to wipe away the tears. "I finally got them yesterday, but when I snapped his neck, I realised that missing two months with you wasn't worth it. I'm sorry."

Two months he didn't have to feel the guilt of seeing you everyday, for two months he wasn't reminded constantly of what he had done to you. Forcing his child on you. But this every moment didn't even compare to the moment now, watching you fall apart in front of him.

"You left me here. You left me pregnant, i had no idea what I was doing." You argue, "All those appointments, all the nights I couldn't sleep without you. Well guess what Steve. I don't need you anymore."

He wasn't expecting the strength as you pushed against his chest, again and again until he stood feet away from you. "Leave me alone."

"The baby?"

"He's got his mother."

"He?" Steve felt his heart pound, rubbing his chest in pain. Not only from you, but the son that didn't deserve a father like him. Just like that you were gone.

Steve wasn't going to give up, the first week the worst he made you breakfast everyday, flowers delivered at the same time, whatever you wanted was yours, to the point that he went to your appointment with you, which you allowed because it was his baby too.

But as the weeks passed, it seemed as if Steve finally saw that it was pointless. The pain he caused was too much, it was true, you didn't need him anymore. He would steal glances now and then, eating his breakfast at the kitchen island as you read your book at the nook. A healthy son growing everyday, noticing how protective you were, hand always there protecting from any danger but none would come to you in this tower. Now sleeping in different beds, never slipped up by wondering in his room, never ate the food he made. Nights were now sleepless for Steve, filled with the heaviness of his emotions felt in his chest, mind always running with the thought of you. He had messed up, but all this time thinking about you made him realize, he was in love with you. The moment you mumbled into his room asking with sweater paws if you could sleep with him, he had known but finally accepting it.

"Steve!" Nat's panicked voice at 2 am followed by pounding on the door broke him from his thoughts, "It's Y/N."

His heart dropped at the sight of you, heavy breaths and tears. Shocks of pain making you howl as Bucky holds you up. "The doctor is coming."

"What happened?" For the first time in weeks, he's touching your skin, soft under thumbs. "Is he okay? What happened?" Its panicked as he recieved no answer the first time.

"I'm scared." You admit as you clench onto his shoulder, using him as support to stand as another yell ripples through your throat. Steve's breathing increases, chest moving faster and faster as the doctor runs in, yelling to take you to your room.

Everything moves as a blur, he didn't want a son but his baby didn't deserved to he hurt or even worse....

Even moments later he sees Nat, he sees the doctor's lips moving but no words register, his heart beat the only sound, faster and faster he clenches his chest, it felt like it was going to explode.

"Steve? Steve sit down." The panic of him has Nat worried now, using all her strength to push him to sit on the couch. Her hands taking strands of hair to relax him.

"I'm." Another heavy breath preventing him to finish his scentence, almost instantly he was back to normal. The panic attack had subsided and finally he was able to think again. "Is she okay?"

Nat nods, "she's in her room steve."

It was most likely you didn't want him there, but at this moment he didn't care. Steve was surprised the room was empty except you curled up in the sheets, hot tears of relief.

"Are you okay?" Steve is on his knees, elbows resting on the bed as he reached for you.

"Hes okay." For the first time in weeks he's heard your voice without words of venom. "You deserves your love too."

Emotion is caught inside his throat, tears threatening his eyes. The whole moment of the situation has him weak as you slip small fingers into his, guiding the the round bump of your stomach.

This baby reminded him every day of what he had done to you, it was his guilt to wear. A baby conceived from unfairness and unwillingness but it was something you have accepted, this was your soon and it wasn't cruel, it wasn't taking away your choice, your son was a gift from this cruel world. Steve didn't understand how until you lay his hand against the swell, the belly round but soft but firm with protecting the life inside of it. Tears slip past his eye lids as a soft sigh leaves his mouth, his son, his chance at redemption. The small kick made him smile slightly, he rests his head against in, a soft kiss of comfort.

"I want this. I fought it for so long but he's our second chance." Steve words are beautiful, but you look at him unsure. What if he breaks your heart again?

"Please." A small whimper, just above a whisper from a broken man.

"We can try, for our son."

Once again his eyes run over the large bump. How could he never want him? Fingers are gently as they draw small lines, the first time he's touched his son.

He wasn't a reminder of his past, what he had done and now realized he hasn't trapped you, you wanted this baby. This was a second chance, to raise this son to be the man he always wanted to be and for you and him. A smile, his heart thumps in his chest, hard. All this time he's spent with you, he's never seen this, a real, genuine smile. Its so sweet, small but the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. His heart is so full, and for the first time in his life, he knows exactly where he belongs. "I love you.."

tags: @suppu97, @lexxxistrips, @nova3312, @lovely-geek, @readermia, @heyiambuse, @yn-the-reader, @serpentvixen2-0, @ashwarren32, @gabloka, @jayde0602

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine

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kamekamelea · 5 years

Text

had no idea that you're in deep

A long time ago @amydancepants-peralta requested a prompt from the cliche prompts list and I know it’s been too long but it’s finally here, and I hope you enjoy this what was supposed to be a little fic I’ve created based on your prompt Renee 💖 I hope this makes your August even better, even if only a little 💕

Also I’d like to point out this fic wouldn’t have happened without @b99peraltiago‘s endless support and passion for this story, so thank you Adele for being there feeding me with amazing ideas and tropes 💕

read on ao3 (bc I’m incapable of writing short fics…)

16. I need a date for this wedding

Feeling his big and warm palm on her waist, his breath on her cheek and his fingers intertwined with hers, Amy thinks there is no place more magical and tempting to be than Jake’s arms. She sees a soft smile from the corner of her eye, so she reciprocates it with a glowing beam, with nothing holding her back. The distance is small enough for her to see freckles on his nose, normally hidden from her sight, and his pupils changing their size due to shimmering lights. What really catches her attention though are his lips. Full and red in a mouthwatering way. And formed in that big smile she’s extremely attracted to. He’s close, probably closer than he’s ever been before and it’s hard for her to think straight.

It’s a hiss that escapes those glorious lips of his that shakes her out of the reverie.

“Yeah, I’m still as bad at it as I used to be.” Knowing she has once again stumped on his toes, Amy apologizes in a joking manner, utterly embarrassed by her poor dancing skills.

“ ‘I’m still as bad at it as I used to be’ - title of your sex tape!” Jake chuckles in her ear and despite rolling her eyes at his antics she also joins him in the laughter. It’s such a beautiful melody, the romantic song in the background doesn’t stand a chance against the sound of it.

The dance floor is crowded and Amy uses it as an excuse to snuggle into Jake’s chest, leaning onto him for support, since the alcohol running through her veins makes it hard for her keep her balance. Either that or the cloud of Jake’s cologne overflowing her nostrils, his gentle touch and the way his voice resonates in the air around her (as he whispers quiet jokes regarding all her aunts, uncles and cousins ever since the party started), that makes her go weak in her knees.

“I thought you went to a dancing class with Teddy.” It’s more a question than a statement and the muscles in his back seem to tense, though that could be just Amy imagining things.

“I’ve seen him once doing the macarena dance and came to a conclusion that us both engaging in a dance would be a great offense to this discipline, so I gave up on this idea.”

He nods with an amused smile on his face and Amy drowns once again in his soft gaze tonight.

It’s amazing really, how light and relaxed she feels tonight, having him by his side. Amy’s supposed to be freaking out, surrounded by all of her crazy - sure, lovable, but still crazy - family. Instead, she’s calm and happy, smiling so hard her cheeks start to cramp. And all of that is this man’s doing. Jake’s completely unaffected by her family’s dorkiness and weird habits, joking with her brothers and charming her mother. Well, trying to - Camilla is a hard nut to crack and not easy to charm. Unlike her daughter who’s fallen hard under his spell and without noticing. She was anxious to ask him to go to her cousin’s wedding as her plus-one, afraid of rejection but also of the scenario in which he’d say yes to that crazy offer (afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep her cool around him). But now, as she sways smoothly in his arms, Jake’s laughter ringing in her ears, she couldn’t have been more happy about the outcome.

(Even though Amy’s aware that the ache of him not being hers will become even more unbearable when this night comes to an end, after she got a glimpse of what they could have been but will never be.)

“Thanks for coming here with me, Jake. I know it’s not the way you usually spend a Saturday evening.” She smiles apologetically at him, truly thankful for his presence.

The song changes, and the melody turns into a more energetic one, making Jake immediately react by adjusting the flow of their – quite clumsy – dance to the music. He lets go of her waist and steps back, extending the distance between them to grab the hand she had on his shoulder a second ago. And just as the disappointment is beginning to show on Amy’s face at the newly found - and rather unwelcome - gap between them, Jake starts to twirl her and spin, doing all those moves Amy’s always considered to be elaborate. Yet it feels like there’s nothing simpler in life than doing all those twists with his help and guidance, moving away and back - straight to his arms.

“You mean going to a party with free food,-” he releases her from his hold, twirling her forward but never letting go of her right hand. “adorably hilarious childhood stories your brothers can’t wait to share and endless possibilities of teasing you about your dancing skills?” His palm finds hers, the one she never knows what to do with, whenever her dance partner lets go of it. “And all this with a gorgeous girl by my side?” Jake pulls her gently on her arms, but with a force strong enough for her chest to collide with his. His eyes twinkle as he shoots her a toothy grin. “And this girl is also my best friend?” He lifts their linked hands above their heads, and twist them, causing Amy to turn with her back to him. “Yeah, I’d say this night doesn’t stand a chance against all the other Saturday nights I’ve spent on my couch, drinking beer and watching TV.” Suddenly their crossed arms are down back again, this time on her stomach as he brings her in. “You owe me big time, Santiago.” His chin rests on her shoulder, her cheek tingles at the slight touch of his own and when she tilts her head in his direction her lips almost find their way to his smile. The beating of her heart is fast but it’s definitely not from the physical effort and if he’d said those painful two words - best friend - in any other setting it would have hurt, but not now. Not when she feels like the most delicate treasure in his embrace.

It only lasts for a few seconds before he lets go of her again, though more reluctantly than before and engages her in another round of spins. Not ready for the change of pace, as the rhythm of the song quickens again, and distracted by the laughter that escaped her once he started to twirl her all around him, she stumbles on her own feet, losing balance and already preparing for impact with the cold ground. But Jake’s an alert partner - both in dancing and police work - and he catches her, encircling his arms around her hips and torso. He lifts Amy effortlessly, chuckling at her clumsiness and puts her steady on her feet. He loosens his hold on her shoulders and Amy already misses the warmth on her bare skin.

“At least this time you didn’t make me dance with one of your oak-old aunts…” His lips twist in a playful smile and Amy erupts into giggles, shaking her head at his goofiness. Her cheeks are warm after their enjoyable dance and she’s sure they’re just as red as they burn. So she grabs Jake by his forearm, pulling him in the direction of the refreshments’ area, teasing him mercilessly in the meanwhile about the great crush Gina’s aunt had on his butt.

But, if Amy was honest with herself, she would acknowledge that the only person with a real crush on Jake Peralta’s butt is her. And she’s crushing hard.

READ REST ON AO3

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spikekat · 7 years

Text

hi guys i finished all my classes, here’s the story i turned in for my creative writing final. some soft baby gays do punk stuff and talk about their feelings. there’s some blood bc of the punk stuff, it’s like... 3.5k words long

Reciprocity

Mason calls himself ten different kinds of stupid as he scales the sycamore tree, weaving his narrow frame through the narrower branches. In his head, he can see Isaac’s mouth, never smiling in class, twisting into a sneer, his eyes cold. Laughter echoes, the mocking sound that rings off school hallways. Mason tries to tell himself that even if it is a trap, a trick, the worst Isaac can do is humiliate him, and if it’s not a trap--

He shivers in his thin t-shirt and tells himself it’s the wind. He just, he doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Isaac’s window-- or, supposedly Isaac’s window-- looms through the sparse multicolored leaves, almost glowing in the dying light, like a portal to another world. Mason edges along a branch, sinking his nails into the soft bark to keep his balance. It digs right back, splinters digging into the skin under his fingernails. He gets to the end, precariously balanced, and leans over the two foot gap but before he can knock, Isaac throws the window open. Mason flinches away from the sudden artificial light and nearly loses his balance.

“It’s six-thirty,” Isaac says.

“Traffic,” Mason says, because it’s easier than saying he’d needed almost a half hour in the woods to talk himself into actually showing up, and then another ten to figure out how to approach the house without being seen. Even with the dying sunlight of autumn on his side, any one of of Isaac’s neighbors would just have to peer around their lace curtains and the whole night would be over before it began, Isaac probably under house arrest or shipped away or just hating Mason for getting him into trouble. “Sorry.” It’s probably obvious, how bad he is at this, how he can’t talk like a real person.

“It’s whatever,” Isaac says, glancing over Mason’s shoulder to the darkness beyond. Somewhere, not too distant, a door opens and Mason’s heart rate ratchets skyward.

“Is that--”

“Get in,” Isaac hisses, moving to the side, keeping the window open. Mason eyes the thinness of the branch, the distance from himself to the windowsill. “Come on,” Isaac stretches the last syllable, and Mason tells himself it’s nerves making him sound so annoyed.

Mason throws calculation as well as caution to the wind; he jumps. He lands half-in and half-out of the window, flopping and wobbling like a fish on a line. His ribs scrape the windowsill painfully; he hopes his shirt, twenty bucks at David Allan Coe’s free park show years back, survives unscratched.

“Quickly-- ” Isaac darts a look back at his bedroom door.

“I’m trying,” Mason hisses back. His accent sounds abrasive against Isaac’s smooth Nebraskan syllables. There’s a leaf stuck in his hair and it’s tickling his neck. Mason tries to shake it off and pull himself up all at once, but his arms give way at the last second. He barely manages to catch himself; his shoulders scream in effort.

“So this is why you didn’t try out for the wrestling team,” Isaac says, like Mason can’t see his arms trembling from the effort of holding the window open.

“Shut up and get out of the way,” Mason says. He sounds-- teasing-- to his own ears and is immediately regretful; he knows better than to open his mouth, to think he can just get away with shit like that. He kicks, wiry arms straining to pull himself in. The windowsill scrapes Mason’s stomach as he finally works up enough momentum to slide through the window and onto the floor. He lands on the off-white carpet with an thud.

They both freeze; distantly, Mason can hear footsteps, but they’re slow, languid, and they soon fade. He breathes out hard with relief. Isaac cuts him a look, his mouth is pressed tight, like he’s trying not to smile. Mason bites down on his own grin, fighting to be reserved, makes himself sit up slow. He pushes his fair hair out of his eyes; the leaf falls into his lap. The bright red makes his scuffed jeans look even more faded. He twirls the stem between his fingers to give them something to do. The dry Texas air blows the scent of loblolly pine into the room.

“Nice place,” he says. It’s not untrue; it’s clean and spacious. Real spacious: a desk against the wall, a chair for the desk, and a bed next to the window, all of it straight-from-catalogue. No posters on the walls, no photographs, no ambiguous stains. The only personal items are a few shirts, all black, piled at the foot of the bed. Isaac’s sheets are sky blue, as if for a younger boy than Isaac’s sixteen, and gently wrinkled, indented where Isaac must have been sitting. They look soft. Mason makes himself look away. Black dirt from his trek through the backwoods sticks to the duct tape holding his sneakers together, marring the carpet.

“Thanks,” says Isaac, looking around like he’s seeing the sparsity for the first time. He’s no longer not-smiling, shoulders hunched under his black jacket. His BLACK FLAG backpatch is fraying.

Mason hurries to change the subject. “We doing this?”

“If you’re still down,” says Isaac. He plays with the cuff of his jacket, worrying a stray thread. Still not looking at Mason, like he’s not even worth looking at.

“Of course.” Mason tries not to feel stung; Isaac rarely looks at anyone, always off in his own head. Mason wonders daily what it’s like in there; he wonders if it’s a better place to be than his own. He picks himself off the floor, setting the leaf down. It looks better, brighter, when he’s not holding it. “You got what you need?”

“I should.” Isaac starts for the dresser, rummaging through the top drawer. Mason stands on his toes behind him to watch, because Isaac hasn’t told him not to.

“Nice boxers,” he says without thinking, and considers throwing himself back out the window. His super power might be the ability to ruin everything in under three words. Isaac’s body goes tense. He moves the blue plaid over to reveal a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He passes the lighter to Mason, roots around for the rest without looking at him.

Mason runs a coarse thumb over the head of the lighter, feeling the grooves and the scratches in the metal. It feels like a lighter found on the side of the road rather than stolen or begged from the local 7-11; luck, rather than desperation. Something unnamable flutters in Mason’s stomach.

“You have the jewelry?” Isaac asks, turning. His dark hair has fallen into his face, reminding Mason of blackbird feathers.

Mason nods, fishes in his pocket. He’s chosen a circular barbell, half for the lucky horseshoe shape, and half so he could flip it up to hide from his father. Gold and shiny, bought long before he’d worked up the courage to talk to Isaac in Geometry.

“Cool,” says Isaac. An awkward pause. “It’ll be easier if you sit.”

Mason sits on the bed; the sheets are as soft as he’d imagined. Isaac sets an old tshirt and a loose handful of safety pins down next to him. In Mason’s fantasies, he’d just pulled a safety pin from his jacket to use, and put it back when he was done.

“You nervous?” Isaac asks, taking the lighter from Mason’s fingers, trading it for the shirt. His skin is rough; worker’s hands, Mason’s father would say.

Mason’s heart rate picks up, like it’s finally realized what he intends to do. The lighter sparks twice before flame bursts forth.

“Nope.” Mason digs his fingers into the worn fabric of the shirt, watches Isaac run one of the safety pins through the tiny flame. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“More than you have,” Isaac snaps, releasing the flame. Too late, Mason notices his shaking hands. “Give me the ring.” The metal of the safety pin is black and shiny.

Mason fumbles the gold ring into Isaac’s hand, hopes it isn’t damp with his sweat, or if it is, that Isaac won’t comment on it. His nose tingles in anticipation.

“Tilt your head back,” says Isaac. Mason stares at the ceiling, trying to breathe evenly. Isaac puts a hand under his jaw to keep him steady; his hands are just as warm as Mason’s, and the skin of Mason’s neck prickles. Mason can hear his own blood pulsing through his ears. Isaac’s face is inches away from his own.

Mason flinches when Isaac raises his other hand, the one holding the safety pin.

“Don’t move,” Isaac tells him, voice frayed with impatience.

“Sorry,” says Mason, unable to keep the edge of you’re about to stab me with a needle out of his voice. Heat floods his cheeks.

Isaac’s hand tightens on Mason’s jaw. “Deep breath,” he says. Mason closes his eyes and inhales.

The needle going through hurts more than Mason thought it would, but he keeps himself frozen. Something hot trickles down his upper lip and drips onto his shirt. Belatadly, he brings the shirt in his lap up to catch the rest. His eyes sting.

“Don’t freak out,” Isaac says, unsteady. Mason closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his blood getting all over Isaac’s fingers as Isaac pushes the ring through the hole made by the pin. It hurts worse than the actual piercing. Mason squeezes the frayed tshirt until he’s sure it’s going to tear, and then Isaac breathes out hard and steps back.

“It’s in,” he says. Mason opens his eyes. The world seems a little brighter than it had before.

“Ouch,” Mason says. His nose stings, like after a punch, before the ache sets in. The weight of the ring is a strange sensation, something alien inside his skin. “Sorry for the blood, everywhere.” He dabs at his upper lip and hopes he’s making it better, not worse.

“Sometimes that happens,” says Isaac, but he sounds just as wobbly as Mason feels. “Here, let me--” he leans in again to take the shirt back. His eyes are polished obsidian. Mason stops breathing when Isaac takes a corner of the fabric and wipes at Mason’s face. The closer the shirt gets to his stinging nose the tenser he feels, but Isaac doesn’t even brush against it.

“Very professional,” Mason says around a grin, after Isaac has finished his work. “How do I look?”

“Not at all professional,” says Isaac.

“Fuck yes.” Now that the worst is over, Mason can’t keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Glad you like it,” says Isaac. Endorphins must be contagious; he’s not-smiling again.

“Do you have a mirror around here? Let me see,” Mason demands, standing now, too excited to be still, to be quiet. Isaac digs around in his dresser and comes up with a hand mirror.

The change is small but startling. The gold through his septum brings out his freckles and the lightness of his eyes, draws attention to the symmetry of his cheekbones. There’s still blood stains at the corners of his mouth; he looks like someone he would admire, if he met them on the street. He looks like someone who knows who and what they are, enough that they let a stranger put a needle through their skin.

He absolutely cannot let anyone else see him like this.

“Done admiring yourself?” Isaac asks, light, but Mason looks down, stomach souring. He wanted this; he still wants this.

“Yeah,” he says, voice flat. Unbidden, he pictures his father’s face. Eyes always fixed on something a little above or a little to the right of Mason’s face.

“Is it crooked?” The light has gone out of Isaac’s face; Mason fucking up once again. He wonders if there will ever come a day when he doesn’t turn everything he touches into garbage. Mason glances up; Isaac’s close again, brow furrowed in what could be concern, or could be annoyance.

“It’s not that--” Mason starts, face prickling uncomfortably. Fucking bullshit mixed complexion; no one in his mother’s family blushes every five seconds. “I mean--”

Someone knocks on the door. They both freeze.

“Isaac? Can I come in?”

Isaac, his eyes wide and urgent, stares directly at Mason. Mason’s stomach curls in on itself; he forgets to breathe.

“Uh-- Just a minute!” Isaac’s voice sounds high and unnatural. He grabs Mason by the shoulder and pushes him down, gesturing to the space under the bed.

Mason gets the message and drops to his elbows. He wriggles forward, pushing himself forward with his shoes. His poor shirt.

“Isaac?” The door creaks; not opening, but preparing to open, intent bringing the wood to life.

Isaac gives Mason’s legs a shove, pushing his face into the accumulated dust of years. Mason curls into a ball as best as he can, shoulder shoved up against the box spring painfully. He just barely fits.

“Isaac--” The doors opens. Isaac flings himself onto the bed.

“Sorry, Katya, I was just changing,” Isaac says, all in a rush. Mason opens his mouth, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. He hears soft footsteps; Katya is wearing shoes inside, nice ones, polished and black.

“Sorry to bother you,” Katya says, voice soft. “Were you watching something? I thought I heard voices.” She sounds exactly like Mason imagines a mother should sound. He wonders if that irritates or comforts Isaac.

“Just reading to myself,” Isaac says, a lie so smooth Mason is impressed. “English homework. Sometimes it’s easier to take in if I can hear it, too. Actually, I’m pretty busy with my assignments, so--” Katya is lingering in the doorway; Mason hopes she stays there, doesn’t know how much longer he can keep from sneezing. His nose hurts.

“You know, if ever want help with anything, we’d be more than willing. John used to teach, I can talk to him about it if you want.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Don’t be silly,” she says, and her voice wobbles. Mason has seen her before, from a distance, dropping Isaac and the others off at school one day. He hadn’t thought she looked like a drunk--

“Katya?” Isaac says. He sounds strange through the boxspring. Mason tries to adjust his face, to put less pressure on his cheek, and accidentally gets a mouthful of dust. His eyes water.

Katya shifts her weight, black shoes moving just slightly. Mason tries to focus on them and ignore the tickle in his throat. He cannot cough. He cannot breathe too loud, or sneeze, or scratch the ear that itches like hell.

“Katya, I’m really busy--”

“It’s just, your brother--”

They break off at the same time. Time stops. The room goes still. Mason forgets about his throat; the tension weighs on him all the heavier for lacking the context.

“What about my brother?” The words sound brittle, just a splinter away from shattering to pieces.

Katya’s shiny loafers shift again. “He’s being released soon. Your caseworker just told us today-- they think he might, well, come looking for you.”

“Oh.” Isaac sounds-- hurt. Raw. Ripped open, everything he probably doesn’t want Mason to know audible in that single syllable.

Mason closes his eyes. He imagines being anywhere else.

Isaac audibly clears his throat. “Okay,” he says. “Uh, my homework--”

“--of course,” says Katya, desperate to get away now. Mason wonders how he could’ve mistaken her distress for drunkenness. “If you need anything, if you want to talk, or if you just don’t want to be alone-- you know where to find us.” The black shoes turn. “We’re glad to have you here, Isaac.”

Isaac doesn’t say anything, but Katya doesn’t seem to expect him to. She shuts the door when she leaves; it clicks, too loud in the suddenly silent room.

Mason pretends to himself for a solid ten seconds that Isaac has forgotten all about him, that he’ll die under this bed, but then the faint pressure is lifted off his back and Isaac says,

“You can come out now.”

Mason shuffles his way out from under the bed. The room is brighter than he remembers, giving him an excuse to avoid Isaac’s eyes. Katya left behind the faint scent of lavender fabric softener. Mason hates her a little bit.

Isaac is standing next to his unmarred and unused desk, looking just as empty. He’s staring at nothing in particular, shoulders round and slumped. Even the safety pins look dull. Mason glances toward the window and the woods beyond, and then carefully sits on the bed.

“Your brother?” he says, forcing his voice to sound almost casual.

“Is in prison,” says Isaac. Monotone. “He raised me.”

“My dad was in prison for a little while,” Mason says. “When I was a lot younger. My mom left him, after.” He hates the way he sounds when he says it, the vowels all slurred, the ‘g’ in ‘younger’ so soft it barely exists, the ‘t’ in ‘after’ more a ‘d’.

“What’d he do?”

“Shot someone.”

Isaac nods, still looking at nothing. “My brother’s in jail because of me,” he says.

“What did you do?”

“I wasn’t quiet enough,” he says. His face finally changes, mouth going so tight Mason wonders if his whole face will shatter. “We were hiding, after the place we were staying got busted. Drugs and shit. I was scared, I made a sound, the cops found us. My brother had some stuff on him-- he wasn’t like, using, it was just a way to make some cash-- plus he wasn’t supposed to have me, which made it worse. They didn’t even let me talk to him before sentencing.”

Mason nods, even though Isaac isn’t looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he says. He wants to ask Isaac what his brother’s name is but the words get stuck somewhere in his throat.

“I didn’t think you were going to show up, earlier,” says Isaac, suddenly. Still staring at nothing at all. “I thought-- I don’t know.” Mason thinks he does know.

“I was afraid,” he says. “I thought-- it might be like, a set-up to make fun of me or something.”

Isaac looks at him, frowning. His eyes are bright. “Why would-- nevermind.”

Mason can almost hear him putting it together, the way he vanishes during lunch hour, the distance between him and everyone else like a physical object. How they can all tell there’s something wrong with him, something fucked up and different.

“But you showed up anyway?”

“I wanted this,” he says, shrugging. The words shred his throat, but he forces them out. “You always seem so fucking cool, like you’re above all the school bullshit. Not stuck up or anything, but like you’ve got more important shit in your mind.”

“Oh,” says Isaac, again. Like he’s realized something. Mason swallows hard, but doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch back.

Isaac turns, leans against the desk. He’s looking at Mason differently. There’s intent, now. His face is more open.

“What was it like when your dad got out?” he asks.

“I remember a lot of yelling,” Mason says. He fiddles with the hole in his jeans, trying to recall the exact scene. The question feels like a test. “I don’t think my mom knew he was coming back. He was sober, for once, and kind of quiet. She screamed a bunch of stuff at him when he came to the door, but let him in eventually. He sat down at the kitchen table and asked me about school. He’s never asked me about it since then, or before, or when mom brought me to visit him. He doesn’t even look at me, mostly. I think he was just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac says. Mason feels his cheeks go red, pleased and embarrassed and ashamed, all at once.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Mason says. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

“Your own father doesn’t look at you?” Isaac says. “That’s fucked up.” He says it matter of fact, not flinching away, no judgment toward Mason, just stating a fact.

Mason swallows around the lump in his throat; he wonders if this is what bravery feels like. “Do you want your brother to see you?”

Isaac shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “We weren’t-- we didn’t have the best parents, when we had parents, but my brother made sure I went to school. He made me do my homework next to him every night, said it was more important than dinner, even.”

“He sounds like a good guy,” Mason says, around something like a rock that has grown in his throat. “How old were you when he--?”

“Ten; I knew better. He taught me better.”

“I don’t think he’ll be mad at you,” Mason says.

Isaac’s face closes, and for a second, Mason thinks he’s ruined everything. Isaac curls forward, rubbing at his eyes like he’s hiding tears, but when he drops his hands his face is dry.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I can see it both ways. I just don’t know.” He shrugs, but it’s a fragile thing.

Mason joins Isaac in leaning against the desk. They stare out the open window to the silhouette of the woods outside, shoulders barely brushing. Mason can see his face reflected in the glass, his new piercing visible. The newness, the real him peeking out from the corner, only he can see it; everyone else just sees metal. Maybe that doesn’t matter.

“Thanks,” Mason says. “For stabbing me in the face, I mean. The other stuff too, but I really appreciate the hole in my face.”

Isaac laughs, a breathy, quiet sound. “Anytime,” he says. “Sorry about, uh, everything else.”

Mason laughs too. Carefully, he lets himself lean against Isaac. The cicadas call out to the moon.

Later, when Mason is biking through the darkened streets, his new piercing flipped up to hide it from view, he can still feel the warmth of Isaac’s shoulder against his own. It keeps him company all the way across town, to the trailer park where his father sleeps, drunk and unaware.

#have looked at this so long i fucking hate it #dave writes #i got an a minus on the first draft so who knows if this sucks or not!#feedback is always appreciated but like its ur life #im real fucking sad about the end of the internet tho; this could be ur last chance to be nice to me

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secretlystephaniebrown · 7 years

Text

Come On Home: 4/5

After the war, Locus ends up spending his days on Hawaii, where he meets Kai and Grif. Nothing will ever be the same.

Thanks as always to the phenomenal @a-taller-tale for the beta! And special thanks to every single person who has given feedback bc you guys are the freaking best.

Grimmons arrives! Chorus arrives! We're almost at the end!

Also on Ao3

This planet is the fucking worst. Simmons leaves and joins Blue Team again, then Donut tells the rescue ship to leave, Caboose is constantly upset because Church ran off again, and on top of that Wash and Tucker won’t fucking shut up. Grif doesn’t know if they’re flirting or just haven’t slept enough lately, but he also doesn’t really care because they’re getting on his nerves. Blue Team problems. He knows better than to tamper with them.

So when an asshole in orange armor shows up, Grif is almost ready to write the whole thing off as yet another Blue Team misadventure about to start when the guy opens his mouth and Grif is suddenly a kid again.

“Run!” the man yells, and Grif stares. He’s wearing orange, bright orange, orange and charcoal, the same orange as sunglasses on a smug face—

“Excellent work soldiers.”

Grif’s been punched a lot since joining the army. He’s intimately familiar with the feeling of being punched in the chest, of the way the pain lingers, of struggling to breathe.

This is worse. This is so, so many times worse. Because a figure with cloaking like Tex, like the Meta, comes into sight, in a weird shade of green armor, with a helmet that has a familiar marking across the visor, and it’s unmistakable. No one else has a voice like that.

Grif would recognize his asshole big brother anywhere, even in armor, even more than ten years later.

He can’t speak, can’t breathe. He just stares, and then looks at Felix. There’s blood on his leg, where Sam shot him, and he can’t help but feel kind of… proud, or something… that Sam finally got around to ditching that guy, even if he ditched them first.

There’s some fucking posturing, some weird and ominous statements, but Grif can’t really hear them. His blood is pounding in his ears, and every single thing he’s wanted to say, every name he’s ever wanted to call Sam or Felix are trying to spill out over each other, and the result feels like choking.

And then…

Sam is gone, and they’re left with fucking Felix. Felix, who’s injured and just saved Wash… because Sam had just tried to put a bullet through Wash’s head?

His stomach feels gross and wrong, and his head aches just trying to put these pieces together.

He listens to the speech, like the rest of them. Felix calls them the “galaxy’s greatest soldiers”, and Grif has to bite his tongue to stop himself from calling bullshit.

He remembers Felix. He remembers a guy who was willing to feud with a twelve year old girl, who scared his sister so badly that when Grif came home from work, she’d been sitting on the couch holding a knife. Felix is trouble, and Grif doesn’t believe one inch of his story.

“Yeah,” he finally says, after the pitch. “I don’t buy it.”

Felix flinches suddenly, turning to stare at him. Grif doesn’t say anything else, just lets the others reject his offer. And when he tries to slip off to make a call or something, Grif follows him.

“What the fuck are you pulling?” Grif demands.

Felix turns. “So… it is you,” he says, but he’s tense. Ha, guess he hadn’t expected to find Grif here. Good. The guy deserves to be off balance.

“Man, you really pissed Sam off. He wouldn’t let us even kick you out of the house, and now he wants to kill you?”

Felix lets out a nervous laugh. “Uh, Grif, right? Locus he’s—he’s not the guy you knew, okay? He’s gone totally off the deep end.”

“Like I’d believe anything you say about him, you slimy fucker,” Grif says. “What. Happened?”

Suddenly, Felix’s body language shifts. “I’m not telling you shit,” Felix says, and there’s the familiar cocky asshole. The one who not only has all the cards, he’s stacked the deck, so he knows what cards you have. “You’re just some brat he got a soft spot for years ago. You’re not important.” They’re wearing helmets, so Grif can’t see his smile, but he can remember it. “He ran away from you and all of your fucking problems with his tail between his legs, remember? Couldn’t be fucked to stick around.”

So what if Felix is right? That doesn’t mean that he gets to win the conversation. He’s practically bragging. Sam chose him instead of them. But…

“At least he didn’t try to put a bullet in my head when he ran,” Grif says.

Felix laughs. “Yeah, well. Give him time. He doesn’t like reminders that he’s human.”

He leaves, and Grif lets him for now.

“Grif!” Simmons yells, back from the campsite. “Stop napping and come help us!”

Grif takes his eyes off Felix, and heads back towards Simmons, unable to shake the feeling that he’s being watched.

The others are preparing for battle, and Grif’s in the corner screwing with his future cubes when he hears the heavy footsteps behind him. He grabs his gun and swings around, even though a part of him knows exactly what he’s going to see.

“Dexter Grif,” the voice, that old, familiar voice, is almost too quiet to hear.

“The fuck are you doing, Sam?” Grif’s mouth is totally dry, and he grips his gun tightly, even if he’s not pointing it at Sam.

He’s… he’s never seen Sam in armor before. Somehow, in his head, wherever Sam had ended up, he’d be wearing the same goofy print tourist shirts and denim shorts that Kai always bought him and he’d worn without comment or complaint. Or maybe in the cargo pants and white tank top he’d worn the first time they’d met, which he’d put on again whenever he’d leave with Felix.

But in armor, it’s almost like he’s an entirely different person. Grif can’t see his face, can’t see where he’s looking, can’t see the twitches of his mouth and eyebrows that were always so expressive, that Grif had learned to read like a book. In armor, he’s even taller, even wider. For the first time, Grif thinks he can see why Mom had been scared of this guy. Sam looks… dangerous. Dangerous and alien.

Felix’s words echo in his head about Sam not liking reminders that he’s human, and he wonders if this is what he’d meant.

“Locus,” Sam corrects, and his voice was somehow even deeper than normal.

“No,” Grif says. “Fuck. You.” He takes a deep breath. But he’s had a bit more time now, a bit of time to rehearse this, to figure out the exact order of his questions. He’d never thought he’d get this chance, never thought he’d actually be able to say any of these things, but here he is. He’s got a chance to get answers. “What the fuck are you doing here, and why are you trying to kill Felix? And us?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sam says, and there’s that weirdly earnest undertone that Grif remembers. He’s gone for fucking years without hearing that voice, without seeing him, but for a second, it’s like no time has passed at all. Sam looks away, and slings the fucking sniper rifle he’s been carrying back over his shoulder, his head tilting downwards. “My orders are to escort your friends to safety.”

“And Felix?” Grif demands. “Dude, I thought he was your friend.”

Sam isn’t looking at him. “I—he—we had a—disagreement.”

“You said he should be glad you missed his head. Like holy shit Sam. You really took that friends-turned-mortal-enemies thing all the way.” But then Grif remembers that Sam abandoned them, and gets mad again. “Great. So you’re on the planet for a job. Let me guess, it’s super important, and so that’s why you never came home?”

Sam isn’t looking at him, Grif can tell. All that does is make him even more angry. There’s still a box of Sam’s things in the bottom of his closet back home, a box with a razor and those fucking books. The picture of the three of them is back in Blood Gulch. He’d left it with Kai for safe keepings, because he’d still have Simmons at least, unlike her.

“It was for the best.” Sam sounds like he really believes it too, and that just makes Grif even angrier.

“The best?” Grif can’t fucking believe him. “Oh, fuck you. Kai fucking cried for—”

“Why are you here?” Sam interrupts him. Shame radiates from him and his shoulders are hunched. Good to know Kai crying is still an effective weapon, even now. “I know the deposits have been going through.”

Grif wants to laugh. Of course that’s what he’s focusing on. The money had just kept coming in. Sometimes small amounts, sometimes large. Never any notes or messages attached, just dollar signs. The only clue they’d had that Sam was even alive, out there wherever he was. But it hadn’t mattered. It just meant they didn’t starve, that there was more new clothes, that the house stopped looking like it was going to fall apart around them. “Didn’t go back to school. Got drafted.” Which he hadn’t even realized that Sam had been trying to prevent until he’d gotten the letter. And suddenly everything had fallen into place; his weird focus on school, his few vague mentions of college.

And after… everything, when Grif had started to get nightmares, he thought he might actually understand Sam for the first time in years.

“I… see.”

No, he didn’t. He didn’t get that Grif had kept skipping school even though he didn’t need to out of spite, hoping that Sam would come home just to make him go back. He didn’t see that Kai had followed him into the army, that Kai had fucking volunteered, even though she didn’t have to, because she was all alone and she missed him, and if that wasn’t a statement about how apparently no one in their family had any brains, that was.

“Dex,” Sam says, and there’s something twisted with the way that he says it, as if he can’t quite believe it. He straightens his shoulders suddenly, his posture changing completely and his voice becoming stronger. “You need to convince your friends to come with me. Felix is dangerous. The New Republic—”

“Spare me the fucking speech,” Grif says. “Don’t you guys fucking get it? We don’t care. Call off your guys in the fight, and then Felix will go away too. Just help us get a ship and I’ll be out of your hair and you can do your badass loner thing again.”

Sam seems to be about to respond when suddenly, loud, armored footsteps start to move towards them. “Oh Griiiiiiif,” Felix sings. “Got a present for you! One I’ve been saving for your kid sister, but I bet you’ll do just fine.”

Sam grabs him and starts pushing him back. For a second, Grif thinks he hears fear in his voice. “Run!”

“What, and leave Simmons with him?” Grif tries to twist out of Sam’s grip, but if he’d been strong before, he’s even stronger in armor. “I’m not going anywhere, dumbass, let me go—”

“Then I’m sorry,” Sam says. “This is for your own safety.” He lets Grif go, and for a second Grif thinks that’s the end of it, but then Sam moves. He draws his sniper rifle off his back, and before Grif can move away, the butt of it comes crashing down on his helmet, knocking him out cold.

Grif wakes up, lying on a medical cot. He knows it’s medical because of the smell; it’s like shit straight out of his nightmares. He only ever wakes up in med bays after… after shit goes really far up the creek.

It all comes back at once, and his eyes fly open.

Sam.

Felix.

Simmons.

He sits upright. Just like he thought, he’s in a medical bay, with nobody in sight except Sam, who’s sitting nearby, awkward in his full armor, perched in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs that all hospitals seem to have.

“You’re awake.”

“What the fuck, asshole?” Suddenly, he realizes they’re far away from their crash site. “Where are my friends?”

“I… I managed to recover some of them.” Sam looks at his hands instead of Grif, and that’s… that’s not good.

“Some?” He has to bite down on the steady stream of “where’sSimmonswhere’sSimmons” that threatens to burst out. “Who?”

“Your Sergeant,” Sam says. “And Agent Washington.”

“Who else?” Grif says, feeling panic bubbling in his chest.

“I… we also recovered the robot. He was badly damaged, but it would be possible to repair—”

“Simmons. Did you rescue Simmons?”

“… no.”

Grif swears, clambering to his feet. He’s in full armor, not even tucked it. Sam must have just dumped him on top of it like a dumbass jerk.

“Dex—” Sam gets to his feet, as if planning on making him sit back down.

“I’m not leaving Simmons out there with him. Or Caboose. Or Tucker. Or Donut. Or even Doc!”

“The Federal Army is currently unaware of the location of the Rebel Base,” Sam says, his hands on Grif’s shoulders.

Grif stares at him, the smooth visor with the familiar X, but larger and green than the scar on his face. “Bullshit.”

“It is unlikely we would have allowed them to remain if we did,” Sam sounds testy, almost like Grif is insulting him. “The location of their base is secret.”

“Bullshit! Take off that fucking helmet and look me in the eye and say it to my face.”

Sam hesitates for a moment. But then he takes a step closer, and draws the privacy curtain that surrounds the hospital bed.

He reaches up and removes the helmet slowly, as if scared at what’s going to happen next.

Sam looks old. That’s the first thing that Grif notices. There’s silver in his hair, which is held back in that familiar ponytail style. Instinctively, Grif looks for signs of Kai’s handiwork; braids or twists or flowers, but of course, there’s nothing there. It looks longer than it had been, and there’s traces of a beard on his face.

He looks tired too; there are wrinkles on his forehead and dark circles around hisi eyes. He doesn’t remove the rest of the armor, standing stiffly, almost alien in the bulk of it. His helmet stays in his hands, and he looks ready to put it back on, should someone approach or a loud noise occur.

Grif takes off his own helmet. Sam’s eyes go wide for a moment, surprised, probably, by the patches of Simmons on his face.

Simmons.

Who’s alone with Felix. Okay, maybe not alone, but there without Grif. Anxiety and fear churn his stomach.

“What happened?” Grif demands.

Sam looks away. “I needed to get you out. You were my priority. Felix…” he trails off, and Grif stops himself from shivering at the memory of Felix’s voice in the jungle. “He would have hurt you.”

Grif thinks of Felix and he knows the parts of him that are Simmons’ pale have gone green. “What about my friends?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “He has no reason to hurt them. He needs them. But you—”

“What?” Grif feels something bitter building in his chest. He’s relieved, sure, relieved because Sam is probably right, Felix needs the others, because the New Republic needs them. But Grif is exempt from that for some reason? The bitter feeling keeps rising, building. It’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sob, but almost both at the same time. He wants to puke. He wants to hug his brother. “He thinks he can, what? Hurt you with me? C’mon.”

Sam frowns, and Grif gives himself a moment to enjoy how it’s the exact same frown that he used to have whenever he’d find Kai doing some stupid shit. “Yes.”

Grif snorts. “Well. Guess we both know he’s wrong there.”

There’s a twitch, as if Sam wants to reach out, but if it happens, it’s aborted so quickly that Grif thinks he might have imagined it. But he looks like Grif slapped him.

“No,” Sam finally says. “He’s not.”

Grif feels the world grind to a halt.

Sam had left. This has been a fact of his life for years. He’d left, just like everyone else, because he hadn’t cared. Grif hasn’t ever doubted this; it’s a fact of his existence, like that Kai will do dumb shit the second his back is turned, or that Simmons is a fucking nerd, or that the sky is blue. Sure, Sam had sent money, but that was... guilt or something else. Maybe he had cared, but not enough to stay, and what else mattered? Kai had cried when he left. Left, and hadn’t even had the decency to tell them. He’d just… not come home.

But if Felix could... if Sam cares enough to…

When the world starts to move again, Sam is gone. There isn’t even a shimmer in the air.

The curtain parts suddenly, and a woman in white and purple armor bounces in. “Why hello Private Grif! Agent Washington just got out of surgery; I think Locus had to throw your Sergeant in the brig because he kept trying to stab me, but really I think he was just being silly!”

“What?” Grif says, staring at her blankly. “Who are you even? Where’s—” He stops himself from saying Sam’s name. She probably wouldn’t even know who he was talking about.

“I’m Doctor Grey, silly!” She spreads her hands out widely. “Welcome to the Federal Army of Chorus!”

Life with the Feds is fucking awful.

They’re at this weird, snow-covered base in the mountains, and the food is fucking shitty.

Grif is going out of his fucking mind with worry. The Feds have so many fucking rumors about Felix, and Grif can’t help but believe most of them are true. Things are fucking terrible; it’s all a mess, and even if the guys are on Felix’s side…

It’s hard not to imagine.

The Feds also have rumors about Sam though, and it’s just as weird.

Because this is Sam. The guy worked for a greengrocer and let Kai put flowers in his hair. He thought the beach was stupid and refused to sleep in Mom’s room and liked his curry so hot it made his eyes water. Sam, who walked Kai home from school every day, even after Mom kicked him out and who stayed up late with Grif looking through bills. The giant nerd who watched bad movies with him and had nightmares.

But the Feds have rumors, and so that’s how Grif knows there’s also Locus, who’s more machine than man, who breathes like Darth Vader, who’s scarred a thousand times over by the war until his face is ugly beyond human belief. He can teleport and fly and turn invisible. He’s unstable and dangerous, and his paycheck is the only reason he hasn’t murdered the entire Federal Army in their sleep, and his presence is the only thing that stops the Rebels from slaughtering them all.

By unspoken agreement, they don’t talk in front of the others. But calling Sam “Locus” feels wrong. It reminds him of that day, in the kitchen, listening to the way Sam seemed smaller, after Felix left. He’d bounced back, but… just for a little while, he’d seemed more worn down, more fragile, more… broken. Grif doesn’t like that name. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to his brother.

He writes to Kai every day, even though they can’t go through. Tells her all the stupid shit that Sam has done, as well as the other stuff that’s been happening all over the base. Like Sarge blowing up Warthogs or Wash getting Doyle to faint three times in a row.

Grif has his own quarters, for whatever reason, so sometimes Sam stops by, when he’s not on missions. He brings food, whatever he can scrape up. It’s usually better than whatever Grif’s eaten that day, so he never complains.

Sam never stays long, always hovering at the edge of Grif’s room, as if thinking that Grif is about to throw him out. And sometimes, Grif is. The guy left them. He left them alone with Mom, for the whole extra three weeks she’d stayed after Sam had left, and when she’d left, Kai had cried again, but Grif still isn’t sure if she’d been happy or sad to see Mom go.

They’d gone out to the airfield to watch for Sam every day for a week after Mom had left, hoping beyond hopes that maybe now he’d come back. But he never had.

One day, as Sam is preparing to leave after dropping off what appears to be a still-warm container of curry, Grif stops him.

“Take off your helmet and join me, asshole. You brought enough for two.”

Sam hesitates, but he does. Maybe it’s a sign that he missed Grif almost as much as Grif missed him, because apparently Sam never takes his helmet off elsewhere.

Maybe it’s because seeing the faces he makes would totally ruin his air of mystery though, because Sam still has the worst fucking poker face that Grif has ever seen. And just to prove it, Grif trounces him in Poker, Chorus Poker, Blood Gulch Poker, and Go-Fish.

Sam takes his defeats without complaining, but he always looks thoughtful.

It starts to become routine, eating food and playing games, sitting there in silence. Kai was always the talker of the three of them. There had never been a need for them to speak that much, not with her to fill the silence.

It’s not that Grif doesn’t miss her constantly, but right now, with Sam here, it feels even more obvious. Like he’s missing a limb, as well as Simmons and his other friends.

Sam, surprisingly, is the one who starts talking.

“How did you meet Agent Washington?” He asks one day, staring down at the full house that Grif had just smugly revealed. They’re playing for shiny rocks that Grif has been collecting, because he’s eaten all the candy Sam had discovered for them to play for.

“We ruined his plan to kill the Meta,” Grif says automatically, before stopping to stare. “Wait… why do you care?”

“Agent Washington is… peculiar. I do not understand him. I wish to correct this.”

Grif falls over onto his side, laughing.

Well, at least Sam’s taste in men isn’t always as awful as Felix.

In public, they don’t interact much. There’s no reason to; Grif mostly just dicks around, helping Grey in medical or Sarge in the armory or Wash with training. Locus is always off doing his weird dramatic missions or occasionally trying to have conversations with Wash that only ever seem to result in Wash wanting to punch someone.

But apparently people have managed to notice that Locus spends time near Grif’s room, even if they don’t knon the full story.

Ah, the power of military gossip.

“Be careful around him, Grif,” Wash says one day over lunch. “I don’t like how interested he is in you.”

“Dude, you’re the one he follows around,” Grif shoots back. “Think he’s got a boner for the Freelancer.”

Wash glares at him. “Take this seriously Grif, this guy is dangerous.”

“I think his crush on you is absolutely serious.”

The look Wash gives him is completely and utterly offended, which just makes it all the better. If Grif was a nicer brother, he’d probably either try to convince Wash that Sam wasn’t all that bad, or tell Sam that Wash getting flustered is just his normal state of mind, not necessarily a sign of interest.

But Grif isn’t a nice brother, and besides, Sam fucked off to go have a life of mercenary adventure with Felix. Grif is not about to throw Sam as much as a string, let alone a lifeline here.

Occasionally, Sam brings back snippets of information. Rumors of rebel activity, a few sightings of General Kimball or Felix. He sees Tucker, right before Tucker fucking blows up an entire building with people inside.

Jeez, those terrorists work fast on the brainwashing.

But Sam hasn’t seen Simmons.

“I’m certain he’s fine,” Sam says.

“You don’t know,” Grif points out. “You don’t know Simmons, okay? He’s going to be fucking falling apart without Sarge there. And Wash is like, his backup Sarge! He’s not going to have any leader to listen to, and that means he’ll try to be a leader, and the last time he got promoted, he buried Sarge alive!”

Sam tilts his head to one side. “Will… will your absence not cause any difference?”

“Oh, he’s probably fine with that,” Grif says dismissively, pretending he doesn’t care. “He’s probably just glad I’m not there to steal his socks.”

“I… see.”

Grif doesn’t want to explain to Sam that Simmons leaves too. Joining Blue Team (twice), and always wanting to be as far away from Grif as possible. He doesn’t want to explain that if Simmons had been here instead of him, Sarge and Simmons probably would have been perfectly happy.

Sam doesn’t say anything else, just looks at him for a long, long time.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” Grif says suddenly, because it’s falling into his face again, the way it always does when he needs it trimmed, and the only way to handle that is to braid it or get the scissors.

Sam startles, staring at him like he’s grown a second head or something. Which is dumb, because Sam watched Grif braid Kai’s hair for over a year. Sure, he’s never done it for Sam, but that’s because Kai liked to do it.

“… that would be… nice,” Sam finally says.

Grif isn’t as good at the fancy braids as Kai is, but he gets Sam’s hair into a respectable single braid pretty easily. It’s… nice. Sam seems to relax for the first time since they’ve found each other again, letting Grif slowly work on his hair. And Grif can pretend, just for a little while, that Sam never left. That Kai was just a few rooms away, napping or studying or texting her friends. That they were still home, and things were fine.

When he’s done, Sam gives him one of those rare, real smiles. Grif rolls his eyes. “You’re such a sap,” he says, even though Sam hasn’t said anything.

“You are the only one who would say so,” Sam says. Then he puts his helmet on, and leaves.

A few days pass. Sarge hooks up with Doctor Grey, and the entire base is put off their food when they’re caught making out in the hallway. Wash manages to get into an argument with Lopez, even though he doesn’t speaks Spanish. Sam is gone for those days, off on one of his longer missions, the ones where he always comes back from stressed but with better food.

When he sees Sam again, it’s early in the morning. He’s just back, and Grif is just awake.

“What is it?” Grif says. There’s something wrong with the way Sam is standing just outside of his room. His shoulders are hunched forwards, trying to curl in on themselves, like they always get after a nightmare. He looks… scared. He looks around, but they’re alone. “Sam?”

“Your friends are on their way,” Sam says, but there’s something distant in his voice.

“What?” Grif says. “That’s—holy shit you found them? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine.” He sounds almost automatic, like he’s rehearsed this. “For now.”

Grif stops. “What do you mean?”

Sam bows his head. He’s wearing his helmet, and it’s a weird sight. Locus, the terror of both armies, looking small and scared and reluctant.

He slowly straightens up, inch by inch, until he’s standing at his full height. Somewhere in the back of Grif’s mind, he thinks he should be scared, but he’s not sure he is. When Sam speaks again, his voice is perfectly steady.

“My orders are to kill the Reds and Blues, should they reunite.”

And that’s the last thing Grif hears before the world goes black.

He wakes up on the comfiest fucking bed he’s been on in years. It’s all super soft and downy. He can’t remember the last time he was on a bed like this. It’s the kind of bed that makes him want to sleep forever and ever, and never get up again.

It’s great, until he realizes he has no idea where he is.

The room is small, but there’s a fridge full of food, a comfy chair, and a note taped to the locked door.

This is for your own safety.

I’m sorry.

-S

The line with Control goes dead, and the room fills with a dangerous silence.

“So where is he?” Felix asks. There’s danger, boiling under the surface. Locus understands that now, perhaps better than ever. There had been a quiet glee to Felix when they’d received the orders to dispose of the Reds and Blues.

Locus had protected Dex by taking him to the Federal Army. Felix wants him dead. He knows too much, Felix insisted. He knows their faces, he knows Sam’s name, he might even know more than that. It’s impossible to tell what Dex has pulled together

Once, he had brought Felix into the Grif household. Now, Locus knows the depths of what he and Felix are capable of. He knows better than to allow Felix near anything good, anything kind, and especially anything that Locus cares for that Felix does not. Felix will either want it or want to destroy it, and he’s long since discarded any notion of possessing the Grifs. Dex knows too much. For that alone, Felix would want to kill him. But Locus has been protecting Dex from him, and Felix can’t forgive that.

“Where is he?” Felix says, louder this time. “C’mon, don’t think I didn’t notice he wasn’t there!”

Because Locus had moved him the moment the order had come to kill them.

“He has been taken care of.” Safe, and out of Felix’s reach. Dex may never forgive him for this, but he’s safe, and that’s what matters.

Felix looks at him. He knows, or at least suspects. Locus had hoped the evasion would have worked, but Felix knows him better than anyone.

“We’ve got orders, Locus.”

“I am aware.” Dex will never forgive him. “Simmons, is Simmons okay?”

Locus didn’t hold a gun on Richard Simmons when they’d been standing below him and his men, preparing to execute them. His gun had been on Agent Washington, the greatest threat.

But one of his men had been. And it wasn’t like Dex will care if it’s Locus or his men who kill Simmons. Who Simmons is to Dex, Locus isn’t sure. He can’t get a straight answer out of Dex, and his observations of Simmons have revealed no further answers. He doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Locus can keep Dex safe. He can manage this much. He can protect him from this, from himself and from Felix.

Afterwards…

Locus doesn’t know what will happen next. Chorus will be dead, and with it, Dex’s friends. He will never forgive Locus for this.

And perhaps he’ll be right in that.

Locus has known for a long time now that he does not deserve Dex or Kai’s affection. He’s not meant for that. He is a soldier. His purpose is to follow orders. Nothing more, nothing less. He left them, telling himself it was for the best, and they both fell into the army anyway. Grif has scars he won’t explain; entire skin grafts that don’t even match. His files don’t have the answers, but they do tell Locus about a massacre, on a colony. A massacre of which Grif was the sole survivor.

At least Kai is safe, tucked away in Blood Gulch, a soldier, but one still untried by battle, unscarred by the horrors of war. After this, perhaps Locus can take Dex there. So at least they can be together, even if he’s not welcome.

Perhaps it would have been for the best had he never entered their lives. If not for him, maybe things would have been better.

“You’re hiding him,” Felix says. “You’re fucking hiding him.”

Locus says nothing. Let Felix think what he will.

“You’ve gone soft,” Felix marvels. “Holy shit, you’re…”

“Is there a point to this?”

“What happened to the perfect soldier?” Felix demands. “We’ve got orders, are you seriously going to throw it all away for one snot-nosed brat all grown up?”

Locus turns his back on Felix and goes to fetch his weapons. “We need to get going.”

“I’m going to find him,” Felix says, and there’s something almost unsteady to the way he’s speaking. “Our orders are to kill all of them, remember? I’m going to find him and then I’m going to do what you’re too weak to do—”

Locus moves without thinking, without blinking, without hesitating. He slams Felix up against the wall, hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly.

“I said,” Locus growls, “the situation is handled.” Felix scrabbles at his hand, trying to break his grip. With his other hand, Locus grabs one of his wrists and pins it to the wall, out of reach of his knives. The other hand might be able to do something, but Locus’ reach is long, so he doubts Felix can reach anything fatal. Just in case, he drags Felix off the ground, and he kicks and struggles harder, breathing raggedly.

“What are you doing?” Felix gasps out, thrashing in his grip. “Let go of me, you—”

Locus lets go, and Felix drops to the ground, gasping. “So that’s how it is? Partner?” Felix spits.

“We have other targets to deal with,” Locus says. He feels cold and impassive, staring at Felix on the ground. The last time… it had been that night. The night he’d decided to not come back. Something about this is different. He can’t figure out what, exactly, it is, but things are different.

Felix is glaring at him through the helmet.

For a moment, Locus wonders if Felix is about to attack. But instead he laughs, getting to his feet. “Just remember, I’ve got dibs on Lavernius Tucker.”

“Very well. Get ready to leave.”

Dex will hate him for this, Locus thinks, picking up his sniper rifle as they prepare to move out. But he will be alive, and that is what matters. Locus will protect him.

#Come On Home AU #Steph Writes #Dexter Grif #Locus #Grimmons #Red vs Blue

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queen-scribbles · 7 years

Text

Hell of a Birthday

Super duper last minute contribution to N7 day, bc I got conscripted to help my sister give her dog a haircut and my writing time got all chewed up. :P

This was not, Emily reflected morosely, how she thought she’d be spending her birthday. Kaidan being there was about right, but the trapped in prefab housing, being hunted by biotic extremists part was very much not.

“Thoughts?” she murmured to Kaidan, He was standing by the lone window and thus had a better handle on the lay of the land.

“I don’t know, Shepard,” he sighed. “There’s almost a dozen of them out there and they all look pissed.”

“They find our shuttle yet?” Emily asked, one hand tugging her ponytail as she counted thermal clips. Six.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Kaidan replied. “But they’re alert enough there’s no way we’re getting to it without aa fight, so that’s a moot point.”

Emily paced across the small unit as she thought. “Am I the only one who wants to give a piece of my mind to whoever thought we’d have better luck on this mission than anyone else who’s tried?”

“We have fared well with biotics before,” Kaidan reminded her quietly. “Unfortunately, I think some people forget we aren’t a hive mind.”

“Well, considering you and I are the ones it’s biting on the ass this time, I’m still annoyed.” She sighed. “Kaidan, I really don’t want to have to kill these people. It’ll further convince them we see them as the enemy and only want to exterminate them and whatever other delusions they’ve cooked up for themselves. i wish they would’ve just talked to us.”

“I know.” Kaidan shot her a sympathetic smile. “Me, too. But you more than anyone know that things don’t always go the waay we want.”

Emily nodded, tucking hair fallen from her ponytail back behind her ears. “I know.” She bit her lip. “What odds would you give us of making it to the shuttle if we just run for it?”

Kaidan peered out at the circling biotics. “Not great. Like i said, they’re pissed and out for blood. And there’s enough of them our odds of sneaking out are even worse.”

“How long d’you think before they find us?”

“Depends on how long it takes them to get tired of waiting for us to show ourselves and start actively looking.”

“But soon as they do that, we’re screwed anyway.” Emily gestured around the prefab unit. “I mean, unless one of us will fit in that toolbox, there’s nowhere to hide. I feel like we should run for it. There’s no environmental hazards to speak of, the air is breathable, so thee’s not a time limit on outdoor exposure or anything. We just both put up barriers and run like hell, I think we can make the shuttle.”

Kaidan shot her a questioning look. “That’s... kind of reckless for you, Shepard.”

“Not really.” Emily looked over at him. “Where do you think we have better odds? In a cramped prefab where they can’t possibly miss, or out in the open?” Plus, I really don’t want to spend my birthday in here.

Kaidan was still looking at her like he knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth. But finally he nodded. “I see your point. Do you think we should split up, make them divide their forces?”

Emily shook her head. “I’d rather face a dozen of them with you watching my back than half that on my own.”

“Again, see your point.” He studied the people outside for a little longer. “Okay, they’re walking circles, like a patrol. If we wait three more minutes and then hook out the east side of the compound before arcing back toward the shuttle, I think that’ll give us the biggest head start.”

She handed him three of the clips fro his pistol, slotting one into her own gun. “Got it.”

The two of them waited in tense silence for the time to pass and hole to appear in the patrol. When the moment arrived, Kaidan nodded, Emily punched the door controls, and they made a run for it. Emily didn’t pause, didn’t look back--even as she heard the hue and cry rise behind them.

“Just go!” Kaidan hissed behind her, grunting as something impacted against his barrier.

Concern for him almost made her turn around, but she was too worried about tripping on the rocky ground if she didn’t watch her feet. “I’m going!”

She aimed her gun behind them and fired blindly at their pursuers. There was a curse and the sound of someone stumbling as one of her shots actually hit something.

That was lucky, Emily thought. She fixed her gaze on the hill she was barreling towards. She could curve around the far side of it, that would shield her from some of the gunfire and biotic attacks being aimed at them, and start her arc back to the shuttle.

Unfortunately, the extremists caught on to her plan. The closer she got to the hill, the more desperate;y they attacked. Finally, just before she reached a point that would have granted at least partial safety, a biotically enhanced bullet tore through Emily’s barrier and armor both. She yelped--more in surprise than pain--as it sliced into her side. The pain hit a fraction of a second later and took her to her knees. The resulting tumble made it hurt even worse.

She’d barely stopped rolling before she felt Kaidan’s hand on her ar, “Shepard, come on!” He pulled her up with one hand, the other shoving a wave of biotic power at their pursuers. In the moment that bought them, he recognized Emily wouldn’t be able to move fast enough on her own, and easily hauled her up over his shoulders before continuing to run for the shuttle.

It was in sight now, she could see it if she craned her head. They could make it. They could.

Emily pulled Kaidan’s pistol from its spot on his belt--she’d dropped hers when she fell--and started taking shaky potshots at what remained of their pursuit. Each recoil made her side hurt, but Kaidan had his hands full with her. It was only she ran defense.

“Almost there,” Kaidan reported through gritted teeth. His grip on her shifted as he punched in a command on his omnitool.

They were so close she could hear the hiss of hydraulics as the door swung up. Kaidan let her down gently as he could on the shuttle floor and slammed his fist into the door controls. Before it had even closed all the way, he as perched on the pilot’s seat, spinning up the engines and waiting for hte autopilot light to go green.

Emily dragged herself on one elbow until she had a good shot through the rapidly narrowing gap under the door and fired off a whole clip as deterrent. Focusing on something kept her head from spinning, and if she could ust keep it together a little longer...

Kaidan muttered something under his breath, then grunted in satisfaction and hit the autopilot. The engines whined as the shuttle went airborne, on course back to the Normandy. As it rose smoothly through the atmosphere, Kaidan pushed off the seat and knelt next to Emily. “Shepard, let me see.”

“It’s... not that bad,” she panted, shaking her head. The motion made him double and swim before her eyes, and her side spiked with pain, as if eager to make a liar out of her. “...ow...”

“Shepard? Shepard!” Kaidan was beyond worried, calling up his omnitool, working off her armor. “Shepard, stay with me!”

I’d love to... The thought circled in her head, but she couldn’t find the energy to actually say it. Her vision started to darken and Emily blinked in an effort to keep awake, but it was a losing battle.

“Emily! Just hang on! A few more...”

The rest of what he was saying was lost as the darkness won.

<O>

She woke in the Normandy’s medbay, head and side both aching. “...Ow.”

“That sounds about right,” Dr. Chakwas said with a motherly smile. “Good to see you still number among the living, Commander.”

“Feels like just barely,” Emily mumbled.

“You’re not far off,” the doctor said. “If it wasn’t for Kaidan, you wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Emily rubbed her side, feeling the tug of fresh-set medigel. “Where is he?”

“Giving the mission report to Admiral Hackett. He promised to come down as soon as he finished. He’ll be happy to see you’re awake.”

“That’s an understatement,” Kaidan said, quiet but frank, as he entered the room.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Dr. Chakwas said, slipping from the room.

Emily and Kaidan simply stared at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say.

Kaidan figured it out first. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Much as I would love to make that promise, you know I can’t,” Emily said, picking at the sheets. “Not in our line of work.”

“Can you at least try?” he compromised, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“That I can do,” she nodded, reaching out with one hand to cover his. “Thanks for carrying me.”

Kaidan half-smiled, concern still lingering in his eyes. “I owed you one. For Virmire.” He turned his hand so he could hold hers and was quiet for a long moment. “So when were you going to tell me today is your birthday?”

“When we got back from the mission,” Emily replied, twirling a lock of hair with her free hand. “Figured we could spend the rest of the day watching vids in my cabin or cuddling or something.”

“I’m sure Dr. Chakwas won’t mind if you get bedrest in in your own bed,” Kaidan said pragmatically. “Sorry your birthday’s turning out not so great.”

Emily shrugged. “Still not my worst one. But let’s not worry about that and get back to making this one better.”

He hesitated the barest fraction of a second before smiling. “Okay. Any ideas?”

“Oh, a couple. Top of the list would be a good kiss from my favorite guy in the galaxy.”

“Well, okay,” he deadpanned. “I’ll go get Garrus, but I don’t know how he’ll react-”

Emily rolled her eyes and whacked his arm. “I meant you, you jerk, and you know it.”

Kaidan leaned forward and kissed the end of her nose. “Like that?”

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back in so she could kiss the smirk off his face. “Like that,” she corrected.

“You’re right, that is batter,” Kaidan chuckled, hand cupping the nape of her neck as he came back for me.

<O>

When Dr. Chakwas returned, she was easily persuaded to let Emily rest in her own cabin, with Kaidan and her vid collection for company. So that’s exactly what she did. And, on the whole, it wasn’t a bad birthday. Sure, the first part had been a little rough, but the rest more than made up for it.

#queens fic #n7 day #mass effect #otp: sanity check #emily shepard #kaidan alenko

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smochiis · 7 years

Text

band-aid solutions

✩pairing: jimin x reader

✩ genre: smut, angst, humor

✩ warning: slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!jimin, oral

✩ word count: 15k

✩ summary: It’s said that time heals all wounds, but that isn’t exactly true and sometimes band-aids are all you have. You catch your boyfriend cheating on you and Jimin is more than willing to help you forget him.

✩ a/n: inspired by the drama suspicious partner, check it out if you haven’t already!

It was a slew of texts that initiated the craziest night of your life.

You found yourself curled up on the library’s sofa, facing yet another long, sleepless night. Your textbooks, notebooks, and papers piled around you in a disarray as you downed coffee after coffee in hopes of staying awake. The certification exam loomed over your head as you valiantly tried to focus on the words just underneath your nose while they floated around on the page.

The buzzing of your phone jolted you awake and you realized you must have dozed off.

Sighing, rubbing your temples, you grabbed your phone and squinted at the screen as the sudden brightness almost blinded you. The words were fuzzy at first but once you read them, suddenly, you could see very clearly. Your mind was awake and sharp and your stomach flopped.

Krystal: you said your bf was on a business trip right?? [9:42 pm]

Krystal: im pretty sure you told me that yesterday [9:42 pm]

Krystal: but it's weird bc there's a guy here at the hotel who looks just like jaejoon [9:43 pm]

Krystal: because it is jaejoon oh my god [10:37 pm]

Krystal: and there’s a woman with him [10:37 pm]

Krystal: y/n are you awake?? [10:39 pm]

Krystal: y/n!!! [10:39 pm]

Krystal: jongin and i left already but im positive it was jaejoon [11:21]

Krystal: y/n call me when you get these….please?? [11:22 pm]

You weren’t exactly sure what you felt after that, your body numb and your mind working overtime. But you didn't call Krystal. Instead, you pocketed your phone and hailed a taxi to the hotel Krystal had told you about -- the fancy one she and her boyfriend had been staying at for the past three nights as part of their anniversary celebration. You didn't even think twice about it.

Until you were dropped off in the loop and gazed upon the graceful columns and arches of the entryway.

It had to be some sort of prank. You forced yourself to push open the sleek, glass double-doors and walk into the foyer cast in a warm, golden glow. But you knew Krystal; she would never pull a prank like this.

The only other explanation was that, maybe, your friend had been mistaken. And as you stood there, in the midst of excellently-groomed men and women who exuded wealth in their pristine suits and dresses and jewelry, you felt embarrassingly out of place. You truly hoped that Krystal had seen wrong.

It was possible, right?

You blew out a breath as you told yourself that, tried to calm your heart as it crumpled prematurely in your chest.

But the longer you stood there in the lobby, the more ridiculous you felt. You'd dropped everything, even though your certification exam was tomorrow, and driven all the way out to a hotel that was so far out of your price range it hurt. You hadn’t even changed out of your jeans and t-shirt. Not to mention you had no idea what time it was. You dug out your phone and checked.

12:09 am.

You were absolutely crazy.

“It's hard to disagree when you're just standing in the middle of the lobby like that,” a smooth voice murmured.

Startled, you glanced to your left. “Huh?”

The man standing next to you wore a plain but obviously expensive suit. Complete with a tie, cufflinks, and shiny black shoes. His chestnut hair was styled impeccably, his face fresh and handsome, despite the hour. He looked like something straight out of a catalogue, almost inhuman, as he watched you with a startling intensity.

You felt even more out of place the longer he stared, your ears burning.

“You look a little tense. Would you like a drink?” he offered.

You didn't give yourself time to ponder his behavior or proposition. “No, thanks. I'm...looking for someone,” you said.

The man just nodded, an inscrutable look in his pretty eyes. “Maybe some other time, then.” And he wandered back to the bar area across the floor, sitting with a group of other men who you assumed were his friends.

You didn’t realize that you’d been watching him until your eyes met again.

Licking your lips, you turned around and finally decided to move. You didn't know what to do now that you were in the lobby -- it wasn't like you could go knocking on every door, looking for a man who you weren’t even sure was here -- but you figured that the elevator was a good place to start. You could at least try to compose yourself there, figure out your next step.

You tried to ignore the stares as you jabbed your thumb against the button. Tried to ignore the whispers of the people who walked past you, the frazzled girl in a pair of jeans. And as you ignored them, you once again tried to convince yourself that this was crazy -- you were crazy. That everything was a misunderstanding, that Krystal had seen wrong, and that your boyfriend was in Busan for his business trip like he had promised.

But that feeble hope shattered when the elevator doors opened and you stared Jaejoon in the face.

Like some sort of twisted scene right out of a drama.

You saw the panic flash across his face as your eyes met. You also saw his arm draped around the shoulders of the slender woman by his side, and how her hand rested on his chest with familiarity. The woman looked at you curiously, and then at Jaejoon, a frown pulling on her perfect lips.

“What's the matter, baby?” she murmured, and the pet-name was a fist around your lungs. She eyed you again. “Do you know her?”

“Go wait in the car,” he leaned down and whispered in her ear. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze when she hesitated, a sweet smile that you knew so well. “I'll be out in just a little bit.”

The woman frowned again, her pretty features furrowing, but she did as he said nonetheless. Her red dress hugged her hips and curves, serving as a beacon and drawing every man’s eyes as she left.

It was only after the double-doors shut behind her that your boyfriend sighed.

“Y/N...let's talk.”

You didn't know why you let him lead you to the sitting area and into a plush chair. You didn't know why you were even still here because all you wanted to do was run away and hide.

Was this really happening?

Your mouth was shut so tightly your jaw hurt. Because if you opened it, you’d spew out all your feelings in a cacophony of word vomit. All you could do was stare at Jaejoon as he sipped his water and hope that he could feel your gaze burning into his skin.

“Aren't you going to say something?” he asked after a long moment of pure silence. “Or are you going to just stare at me.”

It took a great effort to unlock your jaw and bite back all the raging questions. “Explain yourself,” you managed through gritted teeth.

He blinked, shrugged. “I don’t really have anything to say.”

“I just found you with another woman at a hotel at midnight. And you have nothing to say?” Heartbreak and fury warred in your chest, constantly trying to one-up each other. But somehow, you managed to keep your face impassive.

You didn't want Jaejoon to know what you were feeling.

Jaejoon sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

“Look,” he said, “the important thing is that I still love you, Y/N. I’ve made mistakes, yeah, but how I feel about you will never change.”

Mistakes. Plural.

The lines felt almost scripted, like he’d practiced them. Or repeated them to other women. They were hollow, without an ounce of sincerity, and it made your skin prickle.

“How many times?” you interrupted.

“What?”

“How many times have you made mistakes?” The question left a sour taste in your mouth, made your chest ache, but you had to know.

Jaejoon sat back in his chair. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you it was the first time, and your feelings would be hurt if I told you it wasn’t the first time. Don’t you think it would be better if you just didn’t know?”

Incredulity had your mouth dropping open. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, like a cloth having the water wrung out of it. But you swallowed the pain and fought back the burn in your eyes.

Heartbreak was winning.

To be honest, you’d already known that something wasn’t right.

The delays in his texts, the sudden surge in business trips, the constant need to readjust the passenger seat in his car…

You’d known that he was changing, that he was seeing someone else. You’d known that he was a two-timing bastard, but pretended not to. You willingly let yourself be fooled because it was less painful that way.

But now the truth was right in front of your face. Undeniable. You couldn’t look away this time and it felt like being kicked in the teeth by a horse.

“Anyway,” Jaejoon sighed, “I made a mistake. You’re right. Do you need me to swear that it won’t happen again?” He lifted his right hand with an easy smile that had won you over so many times before.

Now, it just made your hands fist in your lap. Fury wrestled its way to the top.

“Do you think this is a joke?” You crossed your arms and his smile fell. “The least you could do is be serious, you asshole.”

Jaejoon closed his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’m young, Y/N,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“And?”

“And when gorgeous girls in tight little dresses try to outright seduce you…” He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “There aren’t very many young men who’d be able to resist, that’s all. We have two heads and only one can be in charge at a time.”

Your stomach flopped and your eyes started to burn again. “So you’re saying that you had no choice because you’re young?” You refused to cry, and to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, even if they were angry tears.

“I’m saying that I won’t make the same mistake again,” he said, frustration clear.

“You mean you won’t get caught again.” You swallowed tightly, the knowledge a thick lump in your throat. Because he would do it again. “You mean that you’ll just be more careful when you’re cheating on me, you son of a bitch.” You slammed your hands on the table and stood up, heading for the doors.

You needed to leave. To disappear. And to cry out your heartache where no one could see.

“Y/N!” You heard Jaejoon’s footsteps as he chased after you, felt his tight grip on your wrist as he tried to turn you around. “I said I was sorry. What more do you need?”

That anger buried deep in your chest finally exploded as you threw off his hand. “What, so, when you say sorry I’m just supposed to roll over and go, ‘Okay, I understand, I forgive you’? Do you think that ‘sorry’ makes everything okay?”

He stared at you, stunned, as if he’d never expected such a reaction from you. But of course he wouldn’t have, because for the entirety of your relationship you’d held your tongue, willing to overlook his faults in exchange for his attention. Because ‘sorry’ had always made everything okay before.

That was your mistake.

“Then this is it? We’re done?”

“No, wait,” you said. You were tired of being a pushover. “I’ll decide whether or not we’re done. But first, let’s even the score. I’m young, just like you are,” you said and watched his face change, “so that means I have no choice but to make mistakes too. I’ll go and have a one-night stand.”

Jaejoon spluttered.

“After we’re even,” you continued, “then I’ll let you know if we’re breaking up.”

He let out a short bark of laughter and crossed his arms. “Seriously, Y/N? You? You’re not the type to - ”

“Yes, me. I’m going to sleep with the first guy I bump into after this,” you promised, and you dearly hoped that he believed you.

“Y/N.” The amount of scorn on his tongue could have melted steel.

“The very first one,” you said in a low voice. Without giving him a chance to reply, you turned on your heel and went to storm across the lobby. Instead, you barely managed two steps before an old man walked directly into your path and, panicking, you twisted on the balls of your feet to avoid running into him.

The very first one, you’d promised. Heartbroken and blinded by revenge or not, old men just didn’t do it for you.

So rather than bumping into an old man, you tripped and crashed to the floor. Your knees smacked the ground hard, sending a jolt through your whole body, and your hair exploded around your face.

Behind you, you heard Jaejoon snicker. “Oh my god...”

Sitting there on the cold hard floor, feeling the weight of many eyes on your shoulders, in your old jeans and t-shirt, you were once again reminded of how utterly ridiculous you were. You had never felt smaller than you did in that moment as you brushed your hair out of your eyes and scrambled to your feet. But still, you pretended as though nothing had happened as you fixed your hair and your shirt.

You managed a few steps before your vision grew watery and you sniffed, trying to discreetly rub away the tears that threatened to spill.

Instead, you rubbed out one of your contacts.

Now everything was blurry and you stood frozen in the lobby. Your shoulders threatened to tremble as the embarrassment ate you alive. Even though you couldn’t see them, you could feel everyone staring at you -- probably laughing at you too.

And among them was Jaejoon.

Right there, in that moment, your “tough girl” act began to crumble. You didn’t care who it was, but you wished that someone would take you away.

No, you wanted to disappear completely.

But before the first tear could fall, you caught a whiff of expensive cologne and felt the strong press of a shoulder against yours. A man bumped into you hard enough to gain your attention and you turned to look at his face. You couldn’t discern much as you squinted at his profile, but he stood calmly next to you and stared at Jaejoon.

Who was apparently unfazed by the whole ordeal. “Come on, stop being so stubborn, Y/N.” His voice was exasperated, like he was speaking to a child.

The stranger next you, however, had given you enough of a reprieve to collect yourself. He’d bumped into you on purpose.

You took a breath and blinked away the tears before looking at him again, completely ignoring Jaejoon. “Would you sleep with me?” you asked.

A part of you realized that you should have felt ridiculous asking that question. But a bigger part of you realized that you didn’t care anymore.

Because the stranger glanced at you and said in a voice smooth as velvet, “Sure, I’d love to.”

You didn’t know why he was helping you save face but you were grateful nonetheless. And when you leaned in to get a better look at him, squinting, you sighed. You couldn’t make out any of his defining features, but you could still tell that he was handsome and probably around the same age as yourself.

“At least you’re young and good-looking,” you muttered under your breath.

The stranger chuckled. “Glad to know you think so,” he said, and you paused.

You’d heard that smooth, rich voice before. Recently, in fact.

Stepping even closer to him, you rose to the balls of your feet and blinked, trying to focus on his face. You squinted as his fuzzy features slowly became clearer, bit by bit, until you could see his well-kept hair, beautiful brown eyes, and full lips stretched into a smile.

Recognition hit you, leaving you breathless.

It was the same man who’d spoken to you earlier and offered to buy you a drink. The catalogue man.

“Oh, it’s you,” you gasped.

He only smiled wider and offered you his arm. “Let’s go.”

Sparing a glance at Jaejoon, who was staring at you with disbelief, you grabbed Catalogue Man’s hand without a second thought. “Gladly,” you hummed and let him guide you to the double-doors.

Bursting through those doors earlier, you would have never imagined that you’d be leaving on the arm of a man who wasn’t your boyfriend. But, you supposed, life was unpredictable and cruel and sometimes you just had to improvise.

“Wait a minute,” Jaejoon called. “Whoa, wait a minute!” The outrage in his voice was clear and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t satisfying. “Y/N, stop right there! If you leave with him, then we’re over,” Jaejoon warned, and you stopped in your tracks.

The stranger by your side glanced down at you with a quirked brow as if to say, What do you want to do?

You inhaled, taking in the stares of everyone in the lobby. They were rapt, as if tuned into their favorite daytime soap opera. You’d already created quite the scene, why not go out with a bang?

So you wrapped Catalogue Man’s arm around your shoulders in a bold move. And then you plastered the biggest, brightest smile on your face and said, “Let’s go.”

Catalogue Man kept you tucked underneath his arm, a faux show of possession, but let you lead. Wrapped in the warm smell of his cologne, feeling his nice suit against the bare skin of your arms and cheeks, you felt confident. You felt like you could look back at your boyfriend -- ex-boyfriend -- and smile coyly. Because you had a better man, a more beautiful man, a wealthier man who was willing to sleep with you. Someone better than Jaejoon wanted you.

In that moment, the revenge was honey on your tongue.

But that confidence disappeared the moment you set foot outside and the cold night air slapped your face. It was like waking up from a strange, horrible dream.

And you were suddenly faced with the fact that a total stranger was expecting you to sleep with him. Because you'd asked him to.

Biting your lip, you wracked your brain for ideas on how to weasel your way out of the situation. Maybe if you said you'd changed your mind, he would just let you go. Or maybe he wouldn't.

Those thoughts came to a sudden stop, though, when said stranger removed his arm from around your shoulders. His absence left you cold, goosebumps breaking out along the skin of your arms, and you crossed them.

“I know you don't really want to sleep with me,” Catalogue Man said with what you thought was a smile. Having just one contact was still making it difficult for you to see. “And that's fine, because I didn't really expect you to.”

You couldn't hide your surprise. “How do you know that?”

“You could have taken us upstairs to one of the hotel rooms. But instead we came outside,” he said before heading over to the valet’s stand to, presumably, have his car brought around.

You watched him, fingers fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. You were too embarrassed to point out that you probably couldn't afford to pay for a room at this hotel. It had taken Krystal’s boyfriend over a year to save up for just three nights and you had no idea how Jaejoon had been able to afford it. Unless he wasn't a businessman at all, which you couldn't disregard.

And all at once, you realized that you hadn't really known Jaejoon at all.

Over a year together and he was practically as much a stranger to you as the man in front of you now while he waited for his car.

The sour feeling in your mouth was back but you still touched Catalogue Man’s arm. “I don't know why you helped me, but thank you,” you said in a small voice.

“I had fun helping you out. Though I never did get your name,” he mused, looking at you.

“Y/N,” you supplied, wishing you could see his eyes better.

“Y/N…” He rolled your name around on his tongue, testing it out. “It's pretty. I’m Park Jimin. Figured it's only right that we know each other's names since we’re apparently sleeping together,” he teased as he held out his hand.

Despite yourself, you laughed and shook his hand. “Jimin. Now I can stop thinking of you as Catalogue Man.”

The joke wasn't very funny you thought, but Jimin still broke into a smile that revealed a just-slightly crooked tooth. It’s appearance did funny things to your abused heart.

Which you quickly wrote off as adrenaline.

The purr of an engine drew your eyes as a sleek, silver Mercedes rolled around before coming to a smooth stop in front of you. The valet got out and handed Jimin his keys.

“I have to go,” Jimin said. “But in the future, try not to bump into random guys on the street. Far too many of them would actually take you up on that offer to sleep with you. There's lots of perverts out there, Y/N.” His warning was firm but also caring, which was strange you thought.

But then again, a lot of strange things had happened tonight.

Jimin smiled at you and waved before opening the driver door. And as you gave a small wave back, you heard his voice.

“Y/N!”

Jaejoon.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you looked over you shoulder to see him coming out of the double doors. The pain and embarrassment you'd felt earlier came rushing back full force as you looked at his face. It left you unable to think, your body simply reacting.

You yanked open the passenger door of Jimin’s car and slid inside.

He balked, completely startled, as you shut the door. “I wasn't expecting you to follow up on your offer, Y/N, really,” he tried to assure you.

“I know, I'm sorry,” you said, staring hard at the dashboard. You would have time to feel crazy later. “Please just drive.”

He must have known that something was wrong, because Jimin looked over your shoulder. And when he spotted Jaejoon outside, pacing by the doors and staring at you in the silver Mercedes, he understood. To your utter surprise and relief, the engine rumbled and he pulled away from the curb, leaving the hotel and the last hour of absolute insanity behind.

Neither of you said much as he drove.

The silence settled in, along with the weight of your actions. You hadn't been yourself all night. You'd turned into some crazy woman who propositioned strange men and hijacked their cars -- a crazy woman with no sense of shame. Rubbing your forehead, you bit back a groan.

“Thank you, I’m sorry,” you mumbled again.

Jimin glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, one hand on the steering wheel. “I hear that quite often from you.” But it wasn't said with irritation or heat, just a quiet observation.

You bit your lip before saying, “I'm not the type of person to ask a random man to sleep with me. I do have pride, though it doesn't seem like it right now.”

You didn't know why you wanted him to know that. Like you wanted to leave him with a good impression of you, though you knew you'd never see him again. But for some reason, his opinion mattered. Maybe because he'd been the one to rescue you.

Or maybe because you were just so embarrassed for someone to have witnessed your unabashed behavior.

“You don't have to explain,” Jimin said and you had the strangest feeling that he somehow understood. He smiled at you with his eyes, the look charming and swoon-worthy. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

“The nearest bar, if you don't mind,” you muttered. Jimin’s brows rose but he kept his eyes on the road and you hastily elaborated. “It’s been a rough day and I could use a drink or two.” And some preferably company, anything to get your mind off of Jaejoon, but you didn’t state that.

Jimin just nodded.

It was barely five minutes later when he pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. You looked out the window at the bar, with its flashing neon signs and back alleys, and smiled wearily. A dive bar suited your day all too well.

Murmuring your gratitude and one last apology, you slid out of Jimin’s car.

Before you could close the door, however, he spoke. “You know, that offer for a drink is still on the table.”

Startled, you squinted at him, trying to see his eyes. He was leaning on the steering wheel expectantly, fiddling with his keys in the ignition. He appeared sincere enough. And today had been a shitshow of epic proportions already; it couldn’t get much worse, you told yourself as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

“You’re a little overdressed for a dive bar,” you cleared your throat and brushed back your hair, “but why the hell not.”

Jimin’s smile was bright and clear even though you only had one contact in. He turned off the engine and pocketed his keys before joining you by the entrance. Again, the scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a warm breeze, and you found it very difficult not to sigh and rub your face into the material of his suit.

You were definitely crazy.

This time, it wasn’t you who stood out in the crowd, but Jimin.

Everyone else was dressed to your standards -- jeans, t-shirts, sometimes less than that -- and he was the only one in a nice suit. But if the stares of the other patrons bothered him, he didn’t let on. In fact, he seemed totally casual as the two of you plopped down at the bar counter and ordered your first round.

“Been a while since I’ve been to one of these bars,” Jimin mused and took a sip of his whiskey.

You opened your mouth to respond but the buzzing of your phone cut you off. You dug it out of your pocket and peered blearily at the screen.

Jaejoon was calling you.

Your scowl was immediate as you rejected the call and slammed the phone onto the counter.

“Excuse me,” you told the bartender, “could I get a whole bottle of this please?” You lifted your still-full shot glass.

The bartender blinked in surprise but gave you a full bottle anyway, to which Jimin chuckled and ordered another glass of whiskey.

By the time you were finished with your bottle, Jaejoon had called you 14 times. Your phone rattled against the bar’s countertop as his face flashed across the screen again, and again, and again…

Fury bubbled in your throat. How dare he disturb your night out. Hadn’t he disturbed you enough already?

Half of you wanted to grab your phone and throw it across the room. But the small, sober part of you knew that was a terrible idea because you’d be the one paying the consequences. Literally.

“You should turn it off,” Jimin suggested, as though he’d noticed your internal war.

You nodded, fingering the rim of your shot glass. “Yeah,” you sighed as you watched the call expire and your phone’s screen fade to black. Before Jaejoon had a chance to call you again, you powered your phone off and put it back in your pocket.

And tried to ignore the ugly feelings that stirred in your chest.

What had driven him to cheat on you? Was it your looks? Because you'd been focusing on your studies? Or had you simply gotten boring?

Each thought made your stomach roll.

Without word, the bartender placed a bag of pretzels and another bottle in front of you. “On the house,” he said with sympathy when you went to protest.

You swallowed and looked down at your hands. Did you look as miserable as you felt? You must have.

Jimin’s glass met the counter with a clink. “When something like this happens to people, they mistakenly blame themselves,” he murmured. “Did I do something wrong? Am I ugly or boring? Was I just not enough? What’s wrong with me?”

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth. It was like he’d pulled the questions directly from your head, opened your chest and seen those ugly feelings for himself.

“I know how that feels,” he said, glancing at you, and suddenly you understood. Jimin sighed and filled his glass again, his fourth drink. “But, Y/N… We’re not the ones who were wrong. The only people to blame are the ones that betrayed us. It’s not our fault. It took me a long time to figure that out but you understand, right?”

We. Us. Our.

You nodded, finding strange solace in the fact that you weren’t alone. Knowing that someone else shared your misery was somehow comforting.

“Logically, I know it’s not my fault. But I still can’t help but feel that I could have prevented it somehow,” you admitted as you reached for a pretzel.

Maybe if you'd paid Jaejoon a little more attention, maybe if you had spoken your mind more often, maybe if you'd put more effort into your appearance… Maybe things would have been different.

Jimin downed his drink, breathed out. “I know. You’ll get to where I am eventually.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Four years.”

You blanched. Four years was a long time. Would it take you four years to get over Jaejoon? You really hoped not because you didn’t think you could go on for four years feeling like this. The fact that Jimin had… It made you wonder just how in love he had been to have hurt for so long.

Maybe he saw the mix of sympathy and curiosity on your face. Or maybe it was because your body seemed to ask, Was it really that bad?

But either way, Jimin smiled wanly and poured another glass of whiskey. “Her name was Yebin and we’d been dating for almost two years,” he began. “We never fought, she was always so patient with me even though I was travelling all the time for work, never got angry when I had to cancel our dates. I never questioned why that was.”

Your skin prickled at how familiar that situation felt. Numbly, you munched on your pretzel.

“I had to work on our second anniversary too, out in Hong Kong,” he continued after taking a sip. “But I finished early and made it back late that night. Bought a boquet at the airport and planned on surprising her at home but when I got there…” Jimin paused, his brows and lips turning down into a pained expression that you knew well because you’d seen it on your own face. He sighed. “I saw the shoes by the door. And I tried to convince myself that they were mine even though I’d never seen them before.”

The denial, too, was familiar to you. Your face mirrored your empathy as you reached out and patted Jimin’s hand.

To your surprise, he took your fingers and gave them a small squeeze. “Then I saw the clothes all over the floor. Her favorite bra and a tie that I knew wasn’t mine… The bedroom door was open but I couldn’t make myself look, so I left,” he finished, and your heart ached anew.

Catching Jaejoon at a hotel with another woman was one thing. Coming home to find your girlfriend in your bed with someone else was another. It was probably worse. But, then again, you supposed that there was never any good way to find out you were being two-timed.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin…” you murmured and hoped that he felt your sincerity.

“Like I said, I’ve made my peace with it,” he said nonchalantly. “Not gonna lie and say it doesn’t still sting, though.” He smiled at you and squeezed your fingers again before reaching for some pretzels.

And it was probably just the alcohol, but you were suddenly struck by how beautiful Jimin really was. His smooth skin, sparkling eyes that smiled, full lips, and that one crooked tooth that gave him a charming, boyish appeal. Combined with his easy personality -- he’d helped you, a total stranger, and publicly agreed to sleep with you even though it was only for show, and kept you company at this backwater bar -- you just couldn’t understand how anyone could take him for granted.

“She must have been crazy,” the words slipped out of your mouth, surprising yourself. Jimin looked surprised too, but he chuckled and you felt your face flush. “Who in their right mind would cheat on you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He was smiling again.

For a little while after that, the two of you drank in silence. Mulled over everything that had happened in the past 24 hours and the ugly memories you’d dug up together. As you slowly worked your way through the second bottle, your mind growing fuzzy, the empty spot in your chest grew larger and larger until you felt hollow.

You began to rub the heel of your palm over the over it, trying to make it go away. But it didn’t work.

“How did you do it?”

“Hm?” Jimin glanced at you.

“How did you stop feeling so empty?” you asked.

He sighed, swirled his nearly-empty glass. “I tried a lot of things. Alcohol, money, other girls… They were all band-aid solutions though. For me, it just took time,” he said. “It might be different for you.”

“Those...band-aid solutions,” you muttered, nibbling a pretzel stick. “They worked though?”

“For a little while, and then they wore off. Like a band-aid.”

You nodded, running your tongue over your teeth as an idea slowly shaped in your mind. A little while was okay. “I only need a little while,” you whispered. “Just for a little while, I want to stop feeling so...used. I want to feel like someone actually wants me.”

The hollow ache was unbearable. Even a small reprieve was welcome.

Jimin put down his glass and looked at you. “I’m sure lots of people want you, Y/N.” And for the umpteenth time, you wished that you had both contacts so you didn’t have to concentrate so hard to clearly see his expression.

“Do you?”

He paused mid-swallow. “What?” he rasped.

“Do you want me?” The alcohol was making you much bolder, much more honest, otherwise you would have never scrounged the courage to ask such a thing.

For a while he didn’t say anything, just stared into the bottom of his glass. “I’d be stupid not to,” he admitted eventually, glancing at you.

“Would you sleep with me?” you asked for the second time that day.

Jimin swallowed. “I would.”

And that was all the confirmation you needed before you grabbed the collar of his very-expensive suit and yanked him down to your mouth. He tasted sour, like the alcohol, and salty, like the pretzels you’d been snacking on, and it was perfect. Warmth traveled from your lips and into your chest where the big hole was, all the way to your toes.

His hands cradled the sides of your face, thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, and he slanted his mouth over yours.

When you felt his tongue in your mouth, you moaned, and he suddenly pulled back. “Y/N,” his breath fanned across your face, “you’re drunk. I’m drunk. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “Are you?”

“Yes. I just don’t want you to regret anything tomorrow morning.”

“Trust me,” you grabbed his collar again, “I would never regret this.”

Jimin kissed you with a breathy groan, pulling your body into his. And somehow, between groping your back and your neck and your hair, he managed to root through his wallet and toss out a stack of bills on the counter. He did it without looking but you had no doubt the sum covered your bill plus extra.

Sober, you probably would have felt bad about crumpling what looked like a designer suit beneath your fingers, but right now you didn’t damn well care. Neither did Jimin as he all but tugged you outside into the cold air.

Nipping your bottom lip once more, he pulled away, ran his fingers through his hair -- even kiss-swollen and disheveled he was still so beautiful. You watched with hungry eyes as he snagged a taxi even though his very pretty, very expensive car waited just a few feet away.

“Definitely not sober enough to drive.” He opened the door for you.

“Mm, safety first,” you agreed with a grin as the two of you squeezed into the backseat of the taxi.

Once inside, you could barely keep your hands off each other, like a couple of teenagers at a drive-in theater. The driver had to ask Jimin to repeat his address three times, glancing up at his rearview mirror more than what was necessary. Normally, the thought of having an audience would have made you burn with mortification, but now your body thrummed excitedly.

You were practically sitting on top of Jimin, your hands raking through his soft hair. His own hands rested on your back and your hip, holding you tight. You shivered when you felt the tips of his fingers graze your bare back underneath your t-shirt, but all he did was stroke your skin. He made no move to take your shirt off.

“We should keep our clothes on,” he murmured in your ear, voice so low that your stomach jumped. “I would hate for the taxi driver to see your underwear. I’m sorry, I’m a little selfish.” He palmed your bare back.

“You can be selfish all you want,” your lips whispered against his skin. You kissed the underside of his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. “It’s sexy.”

Jimin exhaled, squeezed your hip. “I’m hardly the sexy one here.”

His breathy words ignited a combination of pride and pleasure inside you as the alcohol burned in your veins. It gave you the confidence to scrape your teeth against the hollow of his throat and swing one of your legs around his hip so that you were straddling his lap. Your grin was smug as you felt the prominent bulge pressing against the crotch of your jeans.

Suddenly, both of his hands were on your hips, pressing you down into his lap and urging you to scoot back and forth, and his mouth was on yours. He swallowed your moans as you shamelessly rubbed yourself against his erection.

“Feel good?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you sighed against his lips. And whined when he pulled you down harder, the seam of your jeans pressing into your clit. Already, your underwear felt damp and uncomfortable. “Alcohol makes me really horny. I’m already wet, Jimin.”

He stiffened beneath you -- you felt it in his shoulders and in how his hands clenched on your hips.

“Good to know I'm not the only one.”

One of his hands snapped to the front of your jeans, furiously trying to undo the button with booze-clumsy fingers. You gasped when he all but ripped the front of your pants open and tugged down your zipper.

“I thought we were keeping our clothes on?” you laughed, wriggling in his lap.

“Oh, we are,” Jimin promised with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Thankfully, I don’t need to take your clothes off to do this.” He pressed his fingers directly against your center, touching the damp cotton of your panties and grinning at your shivering gasp. “You really are wet, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“Mmm…” You bit your lip, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he felt you through your panties. His touch was too light. “Jimin, harder, please,” you urged, trying to press into his hand.

He obliged, rubbing harder, the pads of his fingers purposely seeking out your clit. His other hand guided your hips as you ground against him. Your underwear felt like a sticky mess as you wantonly contracted around nothing and your body cried for more.

“So wet,” Jimin muttered again. This time, he pushed your panties to the side and dragged a finger through your dripping folds, collecting the juices and rubbing tiny circles around your clit.

You jolted in his lap, body trembling, mouth opening in wordless pleasure. Up and down, his finger traveled, teasing, testing your wetness, before finally dipping inside your entrance.

“Jimin,” you whined into his shoulder.

“Shh…” he whispered as his finger worked. You whimpered despite his warning and he squeezed your hip. “You should keep your voice down unless you want the driver to hear you. Think you can do that? Can you be quiet while you fuck yourself on my hand? While you come all over my fingers?”

His husky voice and dirty words had you melting in his lap, your pussy clenching hard. “Yes, yes,” you answered, biting your lip.

“Good girl.” The hand on your hip squeezed again.

The position you were in only allowed for shallow strokes but you rocked against his hand to put pressure on your clit. Maybe it was the alcohol but his fingers felt so good -- it felt so much better, so much more intense, than any of the other times someone had touched you. It was insane how good it felt to have his one finger fuck you.

Jimin pulled out and you gasped in protest before he gathered more of your juices and pressed two fingers inside you. They sank in deeper, up to his second knuckle, stretching your soft walls.

“Damn, you’re tight. I can barely move my fingers,” he groaned as your hips rolled against his hand. He glanced up at you through the fringe of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes with a smirk, looking like a mischievous fallen angel instead of an elite businessman. “Imagine how it’ll feel when you’re finally sitting on my dick.”

You whimpered again, clenching on his fingers.

God, you couldn’t wait. You were so horny that if he hadn’t had such a good grip on your waist you would have probably stripped off your pants and ridden him right there in the taxi.

No one had ever turned you on so much by simply talking and petting you through your underwear. And it was strange, because you’d never been one for dirty talk before. Every time Jaejoon had tried it you’d felt utterly ridiculous and --

You stopped moving, your arousal cut through sharply with cold water.

Jaejoon.

How many other women had he touched this way? Had he ever fucked another girl in a taxi like this? Had he ever done it on his way to see you? How many times had he kissed you right after tasting another woman?

You saw his face in your mind, felt the ghost of his fingers on your skin, and shivered in disgust.

“No, no, no, come back.” Jimin’s low voice startled you out of your thoughts. A line of concern formed in his brow as he cupped your cheek with one hand, thumb stroking your flushed skin. “Come back to me,” he urged. “Don’t think about him, just think about me. You’re here with me, remember?”

You nodded.

“There’s no room for thoughts of him in this car,” Jimin whispered, moving his fingers. He pulled you down by the neck for a kiss, nipping your bottom lip. “Just you and me. My hands on your neck, my lips on your skin, my fingers inside your tight little pussy,” he growled into your mouth and his sudden aggressive tone took you by surprise.

As did how your arousal flared back to life, just as intense as before. You could feel yourself squelching on his fingers, imagined dripping down his hand and wrist.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, “yes.”

“Just you and me,” Jimin repeated before sucking hard on the skin at the base of your neck. His fingers moved faster, harder, fucking you the best he could with such shallow penetration.

“Just you and me,” you echoed, lost in sensation.

He hummed in appreciation as his mouth continued to ravage your neck and collarbone, leaving bruises all over the exposed skin. His fingers pumped in and out of your pussy while the heel of his palm dug into your clit. And when he started rotating his wrist in tiny circles, you bit back a scream, choosing instead to bite your lip and bury your face into his shoulder again.

“That’s it,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, “nice and quiet.”

“Jimin… Jimin, I-I think I’m gonna -- ” You cut yourself off with a muffled groan, your fingers finding their way back into his hair. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead, come all over my fingers. Let go, Y/N,” he whispered.

Obediently, you let yourself go and you tugged on his hair to try and keep yourself grounded. Stars winked behind your closed eyelids as you came, the muscles in your stomach convulsing and your pussy squeezing on Jimin’s fingers, making it harder and harder for him to pull out. But he was determined to fuck you through your orgasm, igniting little mini-shocks that had your hips stuttering against his hand.

He kept going, moving his fingers, until you pulled on his hair and babbled for him to stop because it was just too much.

Weak and trembling, you collapsed into Jimin’s chest. Your cheek pressed against his neck and the collar of his now-wrinkled suit and you felt the sweat collecting at the base of your neck begin to trickle down your spine.

Jimin’s thumb was rubbing soothing circles behind your ear and you had no idea how long he’d been doing it. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you come?” he asked you with a smile that you couldn’t see but felt all the same.

Too weak to answer, you simply shook your head.

“I mean, look at this,” Jimin said as his hand slipped back out of your panties and lifted up for you to see. His whole hand glistened in the dim light, making you flush. When he stuck one finger in his mouth, your stomach and thighs clenched. “You taste good too. Makes me wish we were alone so I could eat you out,” he murmured, thumb pressing gently behind your ear.

An image of Jimin, his head buried between your thighs while they squeezed his shoulders, flashed through your mind.

You tried to press your thighs together to relieve the neverending ache but they were still on either side of his hips. “That sounds so good...”

“Mm… Too bad we’re here.” Jimin sounded honestly disappointed. He nonchalantly re-buttoned your pants. “That’s too good of a show for our friend the taxi driver, don’t you think? He’d probably crash.”

Though you should have felt panic at the reminder that the two of you weren’t alone, you laughed. You were surprised at how little you cared about the fact that you’d just gotten off in the back seat of a taxi, but chances were, you’d come back to your senses in the morning. You could hold off on being embarrassed until then because being with Jimin just felt too good.

You didn't feel so empty.

“Maybe when we are alone,” you suggested, sighing happily and sinking lower into his lap. You could feel how hard his dick was through the soiled cotton of your panties and your jeans, and your mouth watered. “But I wanna try tasting you too and I don’t know if we’ll have enough energy for both.”

Jimin’s head hit the headrest with a soft thump. “Careful, say too many things like that while you’re wiggling around and I might come in my pants,” he warned. “I haven’t done that since I was 15.”

You smiled against his neck and stilled. “Guess we can’t have that, huh?”

He smoothed a hand down your back, cupping your ass. “I’d at least like to keep my dignity intact until we go upstairs,” he said and pointed to the window with his chin.

You sat up abruptly, realizing that the taxi was stopped. How long had it been parked?

As if reading your mind, Jimin chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your jaw. He patted your ass gently and nodded towards the door. “After you,” he said.

You scrambled off his lap and stumbled out of the taxi on weak knees and wobbly legs. You’d been straddling Jimin for too long, feeling the pinpricks at the tips of your toes for the first time, and the ache between your thighs wasn’t helping. You had to brace yourself on Jimin’s arm when he offered it to you with another kiss-swollen smirk.

Clutching his arm for support, you waited while Jimin thanked and paid the driver. Again, much more than what the trip was actually worth -- and you didn’t know if it was because Jimin was feeling especially generous tonight, or if it was to compensate for how the two of you had behaved in the backseat.

One thing you did notice, though, was that the hand Jimin used to pay was the same hand that had been buried in your panties just a few minutes prior. And you had no idea why that was such a turn-on.

Turning, he saw your flushed face and hungry eyes and he winked.

Your brows lifted as you realized that he’d probably used that hand on purpose, just to see if you’d react. “You’re secretly a pervert, aren’t you,” you accused as the taxi pulled away.

Jimin outright laughed and steered you towards a huge apartment complex. “That would mean you didn't listen to my advice from earlier, then.”

“Nope,” you deadpanned, to which he laughed again. You peered at the massive building in front of you, squinting to try and figure out how many floors there were. It looked like fifty but that was ridiculous. “Which one’s yours?”

“Top floor,” Jimin said as you entered the lobby, “the penthouse.”

“Of course it is.” You nodded.

Your blurry vision swept over the lobby briefly, but from what you could tell it was just as fancy -- if not, fancier -- than the lobby of the hotel. And once again you were struck by how different you and Jimin were. To live in a kind of place like this, pull countless bills out of his wallet without looking, and drive such a nice car...just how rich was he?

“Having second thoughts?” he asked as you stepped into the elevator.

“No,” you said, hoping it wasn’t a lie.

“You can walk away any time, you know,” he murmured and squeezed your hand. “I won’t get mad. I’ll be pretty sexually frustrated, but not angry at you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “I know. But I want this. I want you, Jimin.”

His eyes closed and his lips pursed as he tipped his head back. “I thought I told you to be careful about saying things like that. I’m so worked up right now it’s insane. But thank god you don’t wanna leave because you’re so much better than my hand.”

“You should be careful about what you say too,” you moaned as you imagined him bent over, fist wrapped around his cock. Your thighs pressed together and rubbed. “You’ll make me cream my panties again.”

Jimin laughed but it sounded tortured and you watched as he blatantly stuck a hand down the front of his pants and readjusted himself. His sigh of relief echoed the ding of the elevator as you finally reached the top floor, Jimin’s floor.

“Thank god,” he muttered, tugging you to his front door.

You’d never seen someone punch in their keycode so quickly as Jimin all but threw open his front door and ushered you inside. The moment it closed behind the two of you, he started ripping off his jacket and yanked on his tie.

“Need anything?” he asked as he hastily undressed. “Water?”

It seemed that even overwhelmed by passion and alcohol, his thoughtful and caring side was still prominent.

“No,” you said as your hands went back to the button of your jeans. “Just you.”

Jimin made a noise in the back of his throat as he scraped his hands through his disheveled hair and stared at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Gone was the immaculate, princely catalogue model who’d first offered you a drink in a hotel where you didn't belong. In his place was a man desperate for the feeling of your soft skin under his hands, your voice in his ear, and your taste on his tongue. So desperate that he couldn't finish undressing and reached for you instead.

You let him grab your hips and smash your mouths together, your hands immediately flying to the nape of his neck. As your nails massaged his scalp, he walked you backwards.

“My bed, I want you in my bed,” he managed between hard kisses.

You kept stumbling backwards, nipping his lips and the warm skin of his jaw. Piece by piece, you helped rid him of his clothes. You tugged off his tie, unbuttoned his white dress shirt and pulled that off too. And then your hands were sliding over the smooth, warm skin of his shoulders and down the curved line of his back. Your fingertips danced across his sides and over the firm muscle of his stomach. It had been impossible to tell when he'd been wearing the suit but he had abs, much to your surprise, which were apparently well defined as they flexed under your exploring hands.

The backs of your knees eventually hit what felt like a bed. Jimin went to push you, gently, back onto his mattress but you suddenly remembered your conversation in the taxi and knelt down out of his reach. He made a confused whining sound until your hands fiddled with the buckle on his belt and then he understood.

In the dark, half blind, and drunk, it was difficult to undo. Jimin noticed your struggles and pushed away your hands. You frowned, about to insist that you could do it, when he walked away and flipped the light switch and returned.

You squinted at the sudden brightness but focused on his belt. And suddenly, you were nervous.

“What's wrong?” Jimin’s hands stroked through your hair. “Need help?”

You shook your head and cleared your throat as you resumed working on his belt. “No, I've just never had sex with the lights on before,” you admitted.

You hadn't realized that until just now and even though it was weird, the bright light made it feel different. And you weren’t exactly sure if it was a good different.

“Never?” It looked like Jimin’s eyebrows rose in surprise but you were too focused on undoing the belt and sliding it out of his pant loops. When you were finished, he walked back over to the wall and hit the light switch again, plunging the room into darkness.

It took a second for your eyes to readjust again, the only light being moonlight from the half-covered, full-length windows.

“We can keep the lights on,” you said.

Jimin’s laughter was soft and sensual. There was a small click and the lamp by his bedside table turned on, casting his bedroom in a low glow. It provided just enough light for you to see, but kept it dark enough so you weren't uncomfortable.

“Compromise.” He shrugged, returning to the foot of the bed where you still waited.

You didn't say it, but you appreciated his thoughtfulness. Jimin was so naturally attentive, tuned in to your needs. It was a nice change. Jimin was a nice change. The whole night, he’d done nothing but help you again and again, never asking for or expecting anything in return.

You know you didn’t necessarily owe him anything for his kindness. But you did want to show him how much you appreciated it.

“I can’t wait,” you told him as your hands landed on the front of his pants.

Jimin groaned, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you cupped his dick through the soft material. He was still hard and you knew that it had to be getting painful so you wasted no time in unbuttoning his pants. Shamelessly, your hand reached inside, pulled the waistband of his underwear underneath his balls, and freed his cock.

It bobbed, smacking against the hard muscles of his stomach before you curled your fingers around him. He was long and thick, hot and hard. The head was flushed and soft and when you licked your lips in anticipation, he twitched in your hand.

Your mouth actually watered at the sight of him, a warmth spreading low in your belly. You’d never been this excited to blow a guy before.

Gripping the base of Jimin’s cock firmly, your tongue licked the underside of his head before you wrapped your mouth around it. Jimin’s soft grunt made you smile as your lips slowly retreated, leaving his cock with a kiss. Looking up at him, you licked his tip and kissed it again before rubbing it against your lips, testing the softness.

Lush and warm, just like his ruined lips.

He stared down at you, biting those ruined lips so hard you could see the indents of his teeth, eyes glazed with pleasure. His hands were fisted at his sides and his stomach flexed every time you teased the tip of his cock by putting it just barely in your mouth. Each time you did, his jaw tightened and he looked like he wanted to grab the back of your head and cram his cock down your throat.

The thought had you shockingly wet and you shifted on your knees, trying to relieve the ache between your thighs.

When you decided he’d had enough teasing, you finally swallowed him down. He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whine, hips pushing into your mouth.

“Ah, shit, that’s it.” His low voice made you shiver and squirm.

You pulled back, a line of spit connecting your lips to his cock. “You taste good,” you said and his hands clenched. Keeping your eyes on his, you tongued the slit of his head, tasting bitter salt.

“Fuck,” Jimin snarled as he watched you, jaw grinding. He held still as you worked, swallowing him again and again, your hand pumping whatever you couldn’t reach, until his dick was coated in your saliva.

Your hand slipped up and down his length easily, the slick sounds making your inner muscles clench.

Jimin’s hands were still by his sides, fisted so hard that the veins stood out on his forearms. And after a minute, you realized that he was forcing himself not to touch you, even though you could see how much he wanted to. His gaze burned into you, telling you all the dirty, wicked things he was imagining.

You popped his dick out of your mouth, licked him from base to tip and pumped him slowly. “You can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

He twitched in your hands and his eyes grew dark. “You sure? I don’t wanna be too rough with you.”

“But I want you to,” you said. The thought of his hands in your hair, pushing his dick past your lips, fucking your mouth, had you getting wetter by the second. Your panties were probably ruined. Looking up at him with a small pout, you squeezed his dick. “Please, Jimin?”

His eyes flashed. Then his one hand was fisted in your hair and the other gripped your jaw. “Open,” he demanded. “Stick your tongue out.”

The second you complied, he shoved his cock into your mouth and pushed in until you felt him at the back of your throat. Your eyes watered as you valiantly fought your gag reflex, digging your nails into his firm thighs still covered by his pants.

“Fuck,” Jimin panted as he pulled out and shoved back in. “Keep your hands there. Pinch me if it's too much.” Despite his growling tone, his words were careful and tender.

You moaned around his cock.

“Shit, you feel good.” He started pushing into your mouth, holding your head still with one hand in your hair. “Your mouth is so hot and wet, just like your pussy. Can't wait until I get to fuck you like this. I bet you can't either,” he whispered frantically, the words tumbling from his lips like he couldn’t help himself.

You moaned again in agreement, doing your best not to choke.

“God, you look so good right now. Hair all messy, spit all over your chin, my dick in your mouth…” Jimin kept rambling. “I wish you could see how you look. It's so sexy. And you're not even naked yet, shit -- ah, that's good.”

Each word made your pussy throb. Your fingers dug into his thighs, wanting nothing more than to be buried in your underwear and stroking your burning flesh.

Pushing in once more, till he touched the back of your throat, Jimin pulled out of your mouth. His wet cock rested against your lips as you sucked in deep breaths, spit dribbling down your chin.

“You good?” He looked down at you, waited for your response.

“Yes, Jimin, please,” you said, trying to fit his cock back in your mouth.

“You like it that much?” Jimin obliged, tugging on your hair as his dick pushed past your lips again. He kept both hands on your head, holding you still as he shallow-fucked your mouth. Each thrust wrought a hiss from Jimin’s mouth. “Ah, fuck, fuck… You’re so good at this.”

You whined, thighs trembling. All of the noises Jimin was making, his grunts and hisses and low moans, had you aching. And his words, wrapped in that smooth voice, set you on fire.

“Are you getting wet from this?” he asked. “I think you are. You were practically dripping in the backseat from just my fingers. Do you remember that? Remember how you came all over my hand right in front of the driver? Fuck, that was so hot.”

Your hips writhed and your hands fisted in Jimin's pants as your whole body actively recalled how intense that orgasm had been. It was getting harder and harder to keep your mouth open so wide, your teeth getting dangerously close to scraping Jimin’s dick. Your jaw would be sore tomorrow but you didn't care.

He kept thrusting into your mouth, the sounds sloppy and lewd.

You couldn’t believe how turned on you were. You’d known that some people could receive pleasure just by giving it but hadn’t really understood how it was possible until now -- the room was a symphony of wet thrusts and Jimin’s noises as he used your mouth. Those sounds, the fucked-out look on his face, was reward enough for you. Making him feel good had a direct affect on your arousal.

And you wanted to make him feel really good.

One of your hands snuck between Jimin’s legs and you cradled his balls. They were velvety but hard, making it difficult to roll them around in your palm. So you gave them a gentle squeeze.

His hips stuttered and you tasted salt on your tongue.

“Fuck--ah--fuck.” Jimin pulled out of your mouth and grabbed your wrist. His chest was heaving as he gripped the base of his cock, precum oozing from the tip. “Shit, you almost made me come,” he wheezed, eyes scrunching shut as he tried to wrest control over his impending orgasm.

You were busy trying to catch your own breath, relishing the sore feeling at the back of your throat.

“Not that I wouldn't love to come in your mouth,” Jimin said, “but I’m far from finished with you.” His eyes narrowed while he absentmindedly worked his fist over his glistening cock.

You watched, mesmerized. The way his first swirled around the head before sliding down and squeezing the thick base… You pressed your thighs together and whimpered, imagining how good the stretch would feel when he was finally inside you.

It made you realize just how empty you were again.

“Jimin…” Your voice was breathy.

He reached down with the hand that wasn’t languidly stroking his cock, thumb wiping away the spit on your chin. “Hm?”

“I need you,” you all but begged. And just in case he didn’t believe your sincerity, you dipped your chin and let his thumb pop into your mouth. Your tongue wrapped around his thumb and you sucked on it pleadingly before saying, “Please?”

“Fuck,” he whined, but it was a low sound. “Do you have any idea how sexy you sound when you say that? When you look at me like that and say please it makes me lose my goddamn mind.” He pushed his thumb further into your mouth, letting you suck on it for just a few more seconds, before he pulled it out and helped you stand up.

Though you were a sloppy mess, your hands still went to the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Jimin’s lips landed on your wet, swollen ones with a hungry moan. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, his cock pressing against the soft material of your t-shirt. Sucking on your bottom lip, he began pushing up your hemline. His fingertips grazed along your heated skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You broke the kiss just long enough to take your shirt off and fling it to the ground.

Immediately, his hands were on your breasts, plumping them up through your bra. Your nipples were stiff points and every time his thumbs caught on them, you sighed.

“So pretty,” Jimin murmured against your lips.

You hummed in agreement, your fingers traveling down his toned stomach to stroke his dick, still silky wet with your saliva. He grunted and pinched your nipples in retaliation.

“Oh!” Your inner muscles clenched hard around nothing, a fire burning in your belly. “Jimin…”

He sighed, nuzzling the side of your neck and sucking hard on the skin there. “I love when you say my name, too. Just like that.” His teeth scraped along the bruise he’d left, making you shiver. “You’ll scream it louder for me, won’t you?”

“Mhm…” You nodded, anticipation thick in your throat as you felt his hands skim down your sides, to the waistband of your jeans. They were already unbuttoned and unzipped, revealing the soaked cotton of your panties.

He pushed your jeans down to your thighs and you helped him by shimmying and then kicking them off. Your underwear followed next; he went more slowly, admiring the way they stuck to your core and how your arousal was smeared all over your thighs.

“You’re completely soaked, Y/N. All this for me?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he cupped you, fingers pushing past your swollen folds. He teased your slit, rubbing up and down, brushing over your clit. You stifled a needy sound, making him realize that you couldn't take any more teasing. “Take your bra off and lie down.”

Finally.

Excitement had you practically vibrating in place. You flung your bra across the room and collapsed back onto his mattress, your back sinking into the plush material, legs spread wide and presenting your glistening folds.

Jimin shucked off his pants and underwear before joining you on the bed. He hovered over you, his dick burning the skin of your stomach. Though you were both impatient and more than ready, he took his time becoming acquainted with your body. His hands massaged your breasts again, testing how firm yet soft they were, pinching your nipples. His lips skimmed the tops of them before he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses and sunk his teeth into the pliant flesh. He touched you with intent, like he was trying to memorize everything about you.

Your fingers carded through his hair, tugging him further down to where you wanted him.

He went willingly, lips skimming your stomach and teeth lightly scraping a trail down to your hips. His hands followed later, cupping and squeezing your body until they reached your thighs.

“God, you’re so pretty, baby,” he whispered and you stiffened.

Though it was Jimin sitting between your legs, Jimin’s hands on your thighs, Jimin’s voice in your ears, you felt and heard him in your head. Jaejoon. As he touched you, kissed you, whispered “baby” and promised you all sorts of things that would never happen.

In your chest, your heart began to ache.

Jimin noticed the change immediately, freezing. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back and looking into your eyes. Something on your face must have given him an answer because he made a sympathetic expression, hand rubbing your hip soothingly. “That’s what he used to call you. It’s okay, I won’t do it again.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said hurriedly and grabbed his arm. “No, it’s okay. I-I want you to.”

You couldn’t stand the fact that Jaejoon was the last man to have held you, touched you, called you sweet things. Because now, even though you were with Jimin, you couldn’t help but think of Jaejoon and you hated it. Even now, he was still controlling you; you couldn’t let him continue to disturb your life.

It wasn’t like you could erase Jaejoon from your past or your memories, but you could definitely create new ones. Better ones. Ones that had nothing to do with him.

“Make me forget him, Jimin. Please?” you whispered.

Even in your drunken and lustful state, you realized it was a lot to ask of him, someone you’d only met that night. But you could not deny how he made you feel or that he could make all your aches and pains go away. If just for a little while.

He smiled down at you, brushed your hair out of your face, and dropped down for a soft kiss. “You know I can’t say no when you ask so nicely,” he murmured against your lips, hands groping your thighs. He began kissing his way down your stomach again. “Do you remember what I told you in the taxi? It’s just you and me here. There’s no room for anyone else.”

His words sunk into your skin, filling you with warmth. Everything around you smelled like Jimin, his sheets and pillows, making it almost impossible to forget who you were with.

But just in case that wasn’t enough, Jimin decided to remind you.

“I’m the one kissing you.” He nipped your hipbone and the muscles in your stomach jumped. “I’m the one touching you. I’m the one fucking you. And I’ll do it so thoroughly that after tonight, you won’t even be able to remember his name, baby.” His hot breath tickled the insides of your thighs and your still-wet core, making you shiver.

“Jimin,” you hummed, stroking your fingers through his hair.

He looked up at you from between your thighs, smirking. “Just you and me, baby.”

You writhed on the bed when he parted your lips with careful fingers, bringing his tongue to your burning folds. He worked the flat of his tongue up and down, gliding over your entrance, teasing you. You pushed your hips against his face, impatient, but he held you down while he buried himself deeper. The bridge of his nose pressed against your clit and you whimpered, pulled on his hair.

“I was right. You taste so good.” Jimin released your sensitive flesh, licking his lips with another wicked grin. His fingers stroked through your wetness before he pushed two inside of you all the way.

It was deeper than it had been in the taxi.

You moaned, wiggling against his hand, urging him to move.

He curled his fingers inside you and dragged them out slowly, pushing back in. “You’re still so tight,” he observed quietly.

You swallowed past your dry throat. “I-It’s been a while for me,” you admitted. “Jaejoon and I haven’t had -- ”

Jimin’s fingers twisted inside you suddenly, making you yelp and jump. He thrust into you hard, his thumb finding your clit and strumming it mercilessly. Your mouth dropped open and your voice came out in breathy, hoarse pants.

The ability to form words left you.

“How am I supposed to make you forget about him if you keep bringing him up?” Jimin mused. “It’s just you and me here, baby. I want to hear you say that.” His mouth returned to your pussy, sucking so hard on your clit that you saw stars. When you didn’t respond, he did it again, fingers never slowing. “Say it, baby.”

Your chest heaved as he forced you towards your orgasm at an incredible speed. You couldn’t focus, too overwhelmed with his voice, fingers, and tongue. But somehow your mouth managed to form the words you both so desperately needed to hear.

“Just -- ah, Jimin -- you and me. Nobody else.”

“That’s right, Y/N.” His voice softened, obviously pleased, and he rewarded you with a light kiss to your swollen clit. But still, his fingers pumped inside you, and your inner muscles contracted over and over again, signaling your approaching release.

“Jimin -- oh, my god.” You pushed your head back into the pillows, curling your fingers in his hair. “Please, please,” you gasped, “I need you inside me. Please.”

He came to a slow halt, confusion flashing briefly on his face because your orgasm was so close that he could feel it. But then he smiled. “You want to come on my cock, is that it, baby?” You looked down at him, gnawing on your bottom lip, and he groaned. “I want that too. To feel you squeeze my dick while you let go…”

You whimpered, feeling empty. So empty that it was painful. And you were so tired of being empty.

You were about to say please again, too far gone to be ashamed of begging, but then Jimin slid out from between your thighs. He reached into the drawer of his bedside table, pulled out a condom, and you watched as he tore the little foil packet and rolled the rubber onto himself.

“Remember, safety first,” he chuckled, an echo of your own words from earlier that night.

You were just thankful that at least one of you was level-headed enough to remember protection.

Then he was back where he belonged and you rubbed your foot against the back of his thigh enticingly. Your orgasm was hovering just out of reach and when Jimin began to slide his dick between your folds, rocking against you slowly, you felt yourself tightening. He rubbed his dick against your clit, keeping you on the edge.

“How did he fuck you?” Jimin murmured.

“Like this,” you answered, hips rolling, seeking more. “Always like this.”

“Always?” Jimin’s brows rose. “Well, while this position is nice,” he slid his cock down to your entrance, pushing the flushed head just past your lips, “I’m sure there are others you’d love.” He sank in an inch and you sighed, grabbing his arm. Slowly, Jimin pushed himself inside you, letting you adjust to the stretch and burn, until he bottomed out and his balls pressed flush against your ass. “Ah, fuck, you really are tight,” he said in a strained voice, hands clenching on your hips.

He filled every inch of you. You swore you could feel him in your throat. And though it had been a while since you’d had sex and there was a definite burn as you stretched around his length, you urged him forward with your foot, desperate for him to start moving.

“Jimin, please…”

That one word had him shuddering above and inside you, powerful and effective. You hadn’t meant for it to become a weapon, but it seemed that it had.

Jimin’s arms were shaking as he pulled out and pushed back in with a grunt. “You feel amazing, baby,” he groaned as he thrust deep and slow, hitting every ridge inside of you. Each thrust pushed you closer and closer to the edge, your walls rippling around him. “You gonna come?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, a hand twisting in the bedsheets, “I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “Let me feel it.”

Just like in the taxi, Jimin powered you through your orgasm. His hips rolled into yours as he continued to fuck you nice and deep, never slowing. It was so strong that you were sure you stopped breathing for a few seconds, your toes curling, as you lost control of all of the muscles in your lower body.

Your voice eventually returned in the form of high-pitched, breathy whines. Each thrust made you cry out, clamping down on his dick.

Jimin granted you mercy after a few more well-aimed thrusts, slowing to a stop to let you come down from your high and catch your breath.

“How’d that feel?” he asked.

“So good,” you croaked, swallowing.

You’d come twice tonight. You couldn’t believe it. Not once, but twice.

Very rarely had you achieved an orgasm with your ex-boyfriend, and never more than once. Sometimes, you’d faked one just so that he would feel good about himself, then finished yourself off later that night or in the shower. And every time you had, you’d felt guilty about it.

You’d started to feel like maybe there was something wrong with you. But Jimin was making it very clear that there was nothing wrong with you at all. Your ex-boyfriend had just been bad at sex.

Jimin slipped out of you with a chuckle. “This’ll feel even better, I promise.”

Before you could ask what he was doing, Jimin flopped back onto the bed and rolled you on top of him. You gave a startled yelp as your leg swung over his hip, leaving you mere inches from sitting on top of him. He stared up at you with a gleam in his eyes, his swollen and bitten lips stretching into a grin you had become very familiar with.

He reached between your bodies and fisted his cock with one hand, using the other to guide your hips. Slowly, you sank down on him, feeling him stretch your walls from a brand new angle. You shuddered on a sigh when you were fully seated, his dick brushing over that especially sensitive spot inside you.

He was right, this position felt even better.

You felt so wonderfully full, your body ached to move, and yet you kept still. You looked down at Jimin, who had both of his hands on your hips, fingers digging into your skin, and who was biting his ruined bottom lip.

“Go ahead,” he urged when you hesitated. “Ride me.”

You swallowed, bracing your hands on his chest, feeling the heat sear your palms. It wasn’t that you’d never ridden a man before, because you had, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to continue.

But as you looked down at Jimin, taking in the sweat gathering at his brow and his fucked-out expression, you realized something and guilt slammed into you. He was doing all of this for you.

Jimin’s expression changed, his brows pulling together. “What’s the matter? Does it hurt?”

“I’m using you,” you murmured, suddenly feeling horrible and selfish.

But Jimin just smiled and reached up to push your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Baby, I’m more than glad to let you use me,” he said. “And it’s not like I’m not getting anything out of this, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve got a beautiful girl sitting on my dick, I can’t complain.” He was grinning again but the look softened. “Whether it’s just revenge sex on your ex or keeping you from being lonely, I’m more than willing to help. I’ll be your band-aid tonight.”

His words made something stir in your chest, your guilt fading.

Right, you told yourself. He was a rational, consenting adult and so were you. Needless to say, the alcohol had definitely played a part in this but you still didn’t think that you would regret anything. And you didn’t think he would either.

He was helping you because he understood what it was like. There was no reason to feel guilty.

Confidence renewed, you lifted your hips and brought them back down, relishing the groan that it brought from Jimin’s lips. His eyes were closed as you began to move, putting all your weight on the hands you’d braced on his chest.

“You were right,” you groaned after a few moments of silence, the only noise being the slap of your hips. “This is so much better. I can feel you so deep, Jimin.”

You brought yourself down hard, your breasts jiggling. Jimin watched them carefully before snaking one hand up your torso and taking one of your breasts. He squeezed the fleshy mound hard enough to make you stutter.

“I wish you could see yourself, bouncing on my dick,” he rumbled, eyes roaming over your body constantly like he couldn’t focus on just one thing. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N, I mean it.”

His hands went back to your hips, tightening, and he thrusted up into you, making you gasp. You collapsed forward into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he thrust into from below. Each stroke was measured and hard and he kept swiveling his hips as if looking for just the right angle.

He knew he’d found it when you screamed his name. “Jimin!”

Brows furrowing, one hand curving around your back and the other gripping your ass, he poured all of his concentration into hitting that one spot. Over and over and over again. Until you were making wordless noises against the sweaty skin of his neck and scraping your nails along his shoulders to try and keep yourself grounded.

“Think -- ah -- think you can come again? One more time?” he rasped in your ear.

You honestly didn’t know if you were capable of that. Your body was boneless, the pleasure having overridden your senses. You told him as much, or at least you tried to, your lips being stuck to his neck.

“I think you can, baby.” Jimin dug his heels into the bed, used the leverage to drive into you even harder. The hand on your ass snuck between your sweat-sticky bodies and found the place where you were joined, seeking out your abused clit. “Come on,” he grunted as his fingers began to rub in jerky figure eights, “just one more time.”

“Jimin!” You repeated his name, over and over again, till you were hoarse. And incredibly, you felt yourself climbing towards that third release.

It washed over you as quickly as it had approached, less powerful than the first two, but no less pleasurable. You came apart, shaking on top of Jimin as he praised you and kissed your neck and your shoulders, any part of you that he could reach.

“So good, baby, so good,” he whispered, voice straining.

His thrusts were getting sloppier, his grip tighter, and you realized that he was about to come. He followed you a few seconds later, hissing and grunting, mumbling your name. You swiveled your hips, grinding down, and he groaned long and low, the sound coming deep from within his chest.

And then both of you were quiet and still, gasping for breath.

There was no room for words in his bedroom. But your bodies continued to communicate between the hot, sticky sheets and the muggy air.

His hand stroked up and down your sweaty back, massaging the junction of your neck and shoulders. Your lips peppered kisses all over his collarbone and neck. Basking in the afterglow, your eyes drooped and your body went limp.

You fell asleep that night feeling whole.

You woke sometime the next morning with a sharp, gritty pain in your left eye but surprisingly no hangover. You tried to ignore it, your body sore and exhausted, but eventually you had to leave the plush pillows and rub your eye. Apparently, you’d fallen asleep with your contact in, never having bothered to take it out even though you’d lost its partner.

Sitting up, the dark blue sheets tangled around your legs, you realized that you were alone in bed. The faint sound of running water told you that Jimin was showering.

A shower sounded heavenly to your achy muscles and oily hair. But first, you had to get rid of your contact.

Gingerly, you scooted off the bed, groaning when your stomach, thighs, and everything in between protested. It had been a long time since you’d been fucked that well. But it was also nice in a way.

The band-aid had worked.

Taking out your dry contact, you found a trash can and threw it away. You had to buy more anyway.

You went to go back to bed but out of the corner of your eye you spotted your jeans crumpled on the floor, the bulge of your phone prominent in the pocket. For some reason it made you realize that you had no idea what time it was. You yawned, looking around the room for a clock. Not finding one, you bent over and scooped up your phone.

When you turned it on, you expected the missed phone calls from Jaejoon, your ex-boyfriend. You were surprised at how good it felt to call him that.

You felt to regret at all.

What you didn’t expect was six texts and two missed calls from Krystal.

Krystal: yah y/n you never called me [8:33 am]

Krystal: i know you read my texts… are you okay?? [8:33 am]

From Krystal: hello???? [9:04 am]

(1) Missed call from Krystal [9:06 am]

Krystal: okay youre probably holed up somewhere but you know that we have that exam today right? [9:12 am]

Krystal: its starting in like 15 minutes y/n seriously where are you?? [10:42 am]

Krystal: youre really freaking me out here [10:42 am]

(1) Missed call from Krystal [10:44 am]

Your eyes blew wide as panic settled in your stomach like a heavy weight. “Shit!” You threw your phone onto the bed and began racing around the room to gather your clothes.

You’d forgotten about your exam.

You got so caught up in the betrayal, alcohol, and amazing sex that it had totally slipped your mind. Not only was that utterly unlike you, it was potentially career-crippling. If you missed this exam, you would have to reschedule and attempt it again in another six months -- you couldn’t wait another six months!

You managed to locate your t-shirt, jeans, and socks. The only thing you couldn’t find was your underwear. But, you decided as you glanced at your phone, you didn’t have time to look for it.

So you crammed your feet into your jeans, tugged on your shirt, and ran out of the bedroom. On your way out, you passed by the bathroom and heard the shower running, once again reminding yourself of Jimin.

You hesitated for the briefest of seconds, debating.

You had no idea what the proper etiquette was for this sort of situation, you’d never had a one night stand before. Were you just supposed to leave quietly? Was that why he was showering, to give you a chance to escape? Or were you supposed to let him know you were leaving?

Were you supposed to thank him?

“Ah, I don’t have time.” You cast one last regretful look at the bathroom door before slipping on your shoes.

It would be a miracle if you made it to the exam site on time.

Jimin stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in his silk robe, steam billowing around him. He would have preferred to shower last night to wash off all the sweat and other body fluids but you’d tired him out more than he wanted to admit.

In his head, he pictured you as you sat on top of him. Glorious and sweaty, with pouty lips and bruises all along your neck and chest, your hair sticking to your face. The way you whined his name while your hips worked…

Amazing.

Grinning, he looked over at the bed. And startled when he saw that it was empty.

He frowned, padding into the bedroom to look for you. Pursing his lips, he noticed that all of your clothes were gone. He wandered around the rest of his penthouse, searching for you, but after ten minutes he all he found was a hastily scribbled note pinned to his fridge with a magnet.

Sorry!

He took the note with noticeable disappointment -- you’d left.

Jimin headed back to his bedroom with a sigh.

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting this outcome. But, still, he’d hoped that you would have at least waited so he could see you off. Then again, he supposed that most one-night stands went exactly like this. And that was all that this had been.

You’d made that clear.

Or maybe not, he thought as his brows rose, his eyes snagging on something. Peeking out behind the leg of his bedside table were your cotton panties.

“Maybe not,” he told himself as he picked them up, grinning.

#bts scenario #bts smut #jimin scenario #park himin #bts #PHEW #i cant believe this thing is 15k #a mONSTER #and over half of it is smut jfc #anyway #im considering doing a part 2 so let me know what you think!!

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katzuyas · 7 years

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when you can’t lift that weight (I will)

I couldn’t help myself after I saw the gorgeous art @saniika did of crying victor and comforting yuuri wrapped around each other and so here it is! I tried something different this time: it’s present tense narration so I’m not sure how it turned out but I’m pretty happy with it uwu I hope you all enjoy this and pls go shower saniika with all the love!!!!!!!

pairing: victuuri words: 1977 warnings: slight nsfw, happy crying, emotional comfort, naked ppl cuddling

@saniika this is for you bc I adore your art and I wanted to thank you for drawing and sharing it with the fandom, we are truly blessed to have you //sends huggles

"Yuuri," Victor is whispering against his lips, voice needy, almost a whine. It makes Yuuri's toes curl as something primal takes over his body, wanting to hear more, louder, more.

He kisses Victor deeper, swallows around the slick tongue in his mouth, and they both groan. Saliva is wet on his chin, cold against his heated skin, he can feel it, but at the moment his only focus is in the lines of Victor's body, which is so pliant underneath his hands that he has trouble thinking about what he's doing. He moves almost on instinct, presses fingers into the spots he remembers, touches, teases, grinds the heels of his palms into the flesh and...

There's those delicious sounds again – Victor is moaning on the tip of Yuuri's tongue, audible and so, so irresistible in his plea, and Yuuri– Yuuri is only human. How can he refuse to jump off a cliff when Victor is holding his hand and offering to jump with him?

He shifts his weight so that their hips press together and yes, there's friction, and Victor's gasp echoes across the expanse of Yuuri's chest, which is filled to the brim with his own groans. Yuuri allows a few words of Russian from Victor's mouth, they sound almost as good as the other noises he makes, but they still aren't enough. He leans back in and drinks them from Victor's plush lips, his soft, damned lips that he can't stop touching and which drives Yuuri insane on some days, and he bites.

Victor whimpers, but pulls Yuuri closer, ready and open, and begs with the eyes that look up at Yuuri dazed and love-filled, so honest that Yuuri feels the heat of it scorch his cheeks.

"You're so beautiful," he blurts out without thinking.

Victor's eyes widen and then a smile softens his face. Yuuri's heart is thumping harshly in his chest, the blood is buzzing in his ears, but when Victor smiles at him and kisses him like this, it is all forgotten. There's only the tingling of Victor's lips and the touch of his hands and the breath that passes from Victor's lungs into Yuuri's, like the sweetest kind of poison he grows more and more addicted to with each passing day.

Yuuri's body presses into Victor's, the kisses rushed with hunger, and their skin glowing with sweat, when Victor suddenly throws his head back and chokes on a wet sob. The sound is stark amongst the moans he's used to and Yuuri's heart freezes for one terrifying moment, his every single nerve sizzling with shock. He puts distance between them faster than he can let out the breath that's burning in his throat, desire forgotten as fear jumps on him – fangs bared and ready to tear into his flesh.

"Oh no, did I hurt you?" he asks, shaky hands almost touching Victor to check for injuries before he stills them and remembers; Victor is crying.

There's no tears yet, but the way Victor's lips tremble and his chest heaves tells Yuuri they're close. The face, previously flushed evenly is now splotched red in a way that is less than flattering, but even as Victor's neck covers in an ugly rash right before Yuuri's eyes he is still stunning, and Yuuri aches.

"I'm so sorry, Victor, I didn't mean to–" he rushes to say, but Victor shakes his head vehemently and grabs Yuuri's elbow before Yuuri can slide off of him fully.

"It's not–"

Victor stops, shakes his head again and bites his lip to swallow another dry sob. The tears finally come, welling in his eyes like pearls, and Yuuri is left staring, as he always is: Victor, the incredible, strong Victor with his face contorted into a grimace and gaze glistening with tears; he catches Yuuri off guard like a punch to his gut, an iron hand clenching around his heart, part in fear, part in awe that gets stuck somewhere in his throat.

"I-it's not your fault, Yuuri," Victor finally breathes out. "I just– I'm so–"

He loses voice to tears when they start rolling down his face. Victor's hands move to rub at his cheeks, eyes, face, a little annoyed with himself, a little overwhelmed, a little guilty for ruining the moment. Yuuri softens, his panic easing into something much more mellow, something a tad sad, but warm.

Victor's mouth is curved, upset and so unlike him, but Yuuri loves it, and him, still. Every part, every side, really. Even this.

"Can I touch you?" he asks, careful.

Victor pulls his hands back and opens his arms for him immediately. Yuuri wastes no time and eases himself to the side, lying next to Victor and tugging him close. He cradles Victor against him, wrapping his arms tight around his back.

Maybe it's too tight, maybe they're too close – they're still naked and Yuuri can feel the hardness of Victor's cock pressed against his stomach – but it doesn't matter in the moment, because Victor shifts even closer and slings a leg over his hips so that there's no space on him not covered with Yuuri. Yuuri allows it, worry settling between his shoulder blades and making it hard to breathe, but he pushes air in and out of his lungs with determination. Victor needs him to be his rock now, one of them needs to be strong to pull through whatever this is, so Yuuri bites his tongue and tastes his own blood as he pledges his strength to Victor.

For a while Victor is muffling sniffles in Yuuri's shoulder, quiet and broken, and Yuuri's heart wrenches in his chest, but he knows there isn't much he can do. He slips his hand out of the tangle of their bodies and starts brushing his fingers through the messy platinum blond hair in an effort to wordlessly tell Victor that he's there and he isn't letting go.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispers, moving his hand to rest against the side of Victor's neck, holding the back of his head preciously on his wrist.

Victor reaches up, but he doesn't take Yuuri's hand, no. He curves hesitant fingers, so fragile and shy, around a single one of Yuuri's, almost as if he is begging for him not to leave, and Yuuri's heart stutters so hard, he's sure Victor can feel it where he's nestled into Yuuri's chest. It's the closest Yuuri had ever seen to Victor breaking and the vulnerability he exudes is both heart-warming – since Victor trusts him enough to open up to him like this – and devastating – because Yuuri never wants to see, or worse be the cause of Victor's tears.

The answer doesn't come for a long while, Victor simply crying his eyes out until there's no more fight in him. Yuuri lets him, tightening his hold in silence. He's the last person who could judge someone on their need to let things out, so he stays, understanding and supportive, as much as he can.

After Victor's trembling stops and his tears dry out they stay like that for a moment longer, connected by more than just the touch of their bodies, until Victor takes a shaky breath against Yuuri's chest.

"I never thought I'd be here," he admits quietly. "With the person I love. Who loves me. Happy."

Yuuri doesn't say anything, but his heart echoes the sentiment. He never thought he'd be here either.

"You–" Victor lifts his head a little and Yuuri looks down. Suddenly Victor seems so small in his arms it is a little hard to breathe. "You have no idea how much having you, loving you, being loved by you means to me, Yuuri."

Yuuri smiles, a small, shy thing. "I think I do." It is the same for me, he means.

Victor only shakes his head.

"Yuuri, I always thought I would end up alone," he says and Yuuri feels a little bit like crying, too. "I never–"

Victor breaks off, voice cut short by an uneven breath. Yuuri stiffens briefly, afraid the tears will start again, but they don't and Victor continues:

"I never really cared about anyone. And no one really cared about me either."

Yuuri wants to protest, but this is Victor's time, so he bites down on his "You're wrong, Victor. You mean so much to so many people. They care," and lets Victor talk.

"And then I met you," Victor says into Yuuri's chest as if he's speaking directly to his heart and it answers: with harsh thumps against his ribcage, loud and wistful. "You changed my life, Yuuri. You tend not to believe it, but you're incredible. Even if you struggle along the way, you're radiant and people can't help being drawn to you. And I – standing on a pedestal with all my medals and titles – I was so alone. Or I thought I was..."

Yuuri's throat is tight and it's hard to breathe as moisture gathers in his eyes, so he blinks rapidly to get rid of the unwanted tears.

"You showed me that I was wrong," Victor goes on, and Yuuri bites his lip when it starts trembling. "I have so many people in my life: you, Yurio, Chris, Yakov, Mila, Georgi... I didn't– I wasn't aware– It all started with you, Yuuri. I'm so thankful we met, even if you don't remember it. You changed my life... you changed me."

"I didn't," Yuuri swallows harshly and shakes his head, finally speaking up. "It was all you. It was always you."

He smiles when Victor blinks at him, eyes a little red and swollen already, but honest and caring and so, so beautiful, Yuuri can't help but let the love that calmingly buzzes in his veins take over.

"You made all these people love you first," he says gently. "I didn't do anything. They always cared. And you cared, too. You just needed some help to notice it."

"And I got it from you," Victor replies, insistent to give him the credit. Yuuri could argue, he could dismiss it, but Victor's face tells him he was going to be adamant about it, so Yuuri lets it go. "You opened my eyes, Yuuri, and I'm so incredibly grateful for that."

Yuuri swallows, a corner of his mouth turning up even if his eyes get teary again. "Are you trying to make me cry, too?"

Victor laughs, subdued, but truly amused.

"Victor," Yuuri draws back Victor's attention before he can shrug off whatever just happened like it was nothing. "I don't think I ever told you, but... thank you. For coming to me, for believing in me, for making me work on achieving my dream. Thank you so much. You–" Yuuri huffs a breath of laughter because he cannot believe he's saying the same thing, before he continues his thought and says: "You changed my life, too, you know?"

And just like that there are tears in Victor's eyes, but this time they're mirrored in Yuuri's as well, and both of their mouths are spread wide with matching smiles. Victor pulls Yuuri into him, hugging him as tight as he can and Yuuri returns the embrace with no hesitation.

"I love you," Victor tells him, and Yuuri feels the truth of it echo sweetly in his chest. "So much. Yuuri, I love you so much. You're the best thing that happened to me in my entire life."

Victor's arms tighten around him.

"I love you, too," Yuuri murmurs back, fairly certain that if he speaks any louder his voice will break. "Thank you for being here. With me. Thank you, Victor."

This time when Victor's body starts shaking with tiny sobs, Yuuri's shakes with him – because they're too happy, too grateful to stop the tears from falling, and cradled in each other's warmth, unconditional support and love they don't have to.

#yuri on ice #victuri #victuuri #vikturi #viktuuri #my fic #saniika #just looking at this art again to link it here makes me all !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! again #it's so beautiful #so emotional #dear lord #how do you even #*incoherent noises*

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yoongihime · 8 years

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Down for You

OC x Boyfriend!Yoongi Length: 2.0k (aka not a drabble dammit) Type: Three Word Drabble... Cloudy with a chance of Fluff Recommended OST: (x) or (x) (a/n): FOR @an-exotic-writer BC YOONGI AND RAIN AND YEAH ILY

Summary: Tired Yoongi is a grumpy Yoongi. He says things he doesn’t mean sometimes, but it’s a good thing he’ll always have people to push him back towards the right direction aka back to you <3

Prompt request by anon: harsh, tears, comfort

001. Harsh

Looking back on it, you should have known it would happen eventually. The second law of thermodynamics states that the universe is continuously increasing in entropy, which basically means just means that we’re inclined to be messy and imperfect. It’s human nature. Usually, that would have worked out fine, you and Yoongi have flaws and fallouts, but eventually you’ll end up finding your ways back to each other again. Except this time, you can feel the tension that’s etched into the crinkles between his eyebrows and the heaviness of his eyes as he struggles to stay awake long enough to export his newest piece of music.

“Yoongi, you should take a nap.” you sigh, resting both hands on his shoulders and peeking over at the program that’s running on his desktop, the oscillating lines conveying notes and sounds you can’t understand. Funny, the program isn’t the only thing you can’t seem to understand.

“In a minute.” he murmurs halfheartedly, his gaze glued to the screen and shoulders moving to shrug off your hands. You feel a dull ache at the action, but disregard it, choosing instead to plop on the sofa behind his oversized armchair, studying his slouched form and the cold, illuminated screen.

Why is it that five feet of distance— probably less— can make you feel so lonely? Oh that’s right, because twenty four hours ago he was thousands of miles away, off doing what he loves. Now that’s he back, he’s as stressed as ever, the bags under his eyes so heavy they probably make him slouch. The thought makes you sigh loudly and like a domino effect, Yoongi returns the sigh with a loud grumble.

“Just go to sleep (y/n). I didn’t ask you to stay up with me.”

You glance at the clock, 3:08a.m god it’s almost dawn you realize but you give him a sleepy smile and assure him that you’re fine with it.

“Please? I will concentrate better and it’s annoying to lift you all the way to the bedroom.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry I’m a burden.” you mumble, words as quiet and lethal as the thoughts swarming through your head but he heard it, of course he did.

“I should have stayed at the dorm.”

Ouch. Yep, he definitely heard it.

The bed feels colder that night, the soothing comforter now a bed of needles; each sting of your thoughts causing you to toss and turn until you eventually drift into a fitful night of sleep. Yoongi is not there in the morning, causing the pang to return before you even have the chance to brush off the lingering drowsiness. Well, two can play at this game Min Yoongi.

002. Tears

Equilibrium is a strange occurrence, one wrong move and it’s disrupted, pushed towards imbalance. As it turns out, two can play at this game but ultimately you’re just not cut out for it. Everything about this situation irked you, from the empty “Good Mornings” all the way to the absence of “Good Night’s”, the lingering looks and the tight lipped smiles—you’re going crazy. Perhaps what pushes you towards the breaking point everyday is Yoongi’s nonchalance. He’s the picture of perfect calmness, a boat drifting along the stream, a glasslike surface of water, pristine in his unwavering perfection. However, what you don’t know is it only takes one more drop of water to disrupt the tranquil surface.

Min Yoongi is not a confrontation type of guy. In fact, he’s more of a why-should-I-give-a-shit type of guy, but when it comes to you he’s a wreck. After a solid ten plus hours of sleep, he comes to the conclusion that he’s fucked up….again. This isn’t the first time that his actions caused you to chide away from him but this is the first time that you’ve ever lasted this long without talking to him about it and the fear is eating him up from the inside out. You’re his precious home and the fact that he was the one to hurt you only augmented the guilt-ridden voices in his head tenfold. So he does the only thing he can think of at that moment—he runs.

“Okay hyung, that was the eleventh copy of the mix you’ve thrown out. You’re either going to tell me what’s wrong or I’m seriously going to have to reconsider my skill as a songwriter.” Namjoon groans as he stretches his aching muscles.

Namjoon knew something was up the moment Yoongi barged into his studio at 1a.m. claiming he wanted to “work” but all Namjoon heard was that he wanted a distraction. Amused and intrigued, Namjoon allows Yoongi to pull a plush leather chair into his monochrome work space and began to work. As expected, Yoongi was restless, sheets after sheets strewn down on Namjoon’s dingy grey carpet and curses started to drift from the elder’s lips when the notes in his head are as messy as his thoughts. Exasperated, Namjoon told him to stop and now watches diligently and waits for his hyung’s confessions.

“I— umm… (y/n)..” Yoongi mumbles, his head making a dull thud against the wood of the work desk and Namjoon smiles knowingly. He was never too good at telling people these things.

“Okay, since you seem to be having a little trouble, why don’t I take a completely wild guess and say you had a disagreement with (y/n) and you two are playing the little Game of Silence again?”

Yoongi lifts his head, his cheeks flushing as a result of Namjoon’s all too accurate guess, realizing with shame that this must not be the first time he’s done this.

“And if I may, I would say that you probably said something you didn’t mean— you tend to do that a lot— and she was obviously hurt and now you’re wallowing in self-pity because you’re just being you and overthinking things again.”

Yoongi heaves a breath to inquire exactly how many times he has done this but not before-

“So how many times will I have to tell you that she loves you and is waiting for you right now?”

It’s as if the key was twisted in a lock—a satisfying click of realization struck Yoongi and he’s gathering his things, hollering where his keys are but not before patting Namjoon on the back and shouting his thank’s and bye’s.

“It doesn’t matter how many times hyung, what matters is that it’s not the last!” Namjoon yells after Yoongi’s retreating form, jotting that line down because somehow he thinks another song will blossom after this is resolved—buds blooming after the rain.

Rain pelts against the window sill, a soft patter that makes your heartache because this is when you would curl up next to Yoongi, rambling on and on about how you think the rain makes for a perfect lyric writing weather. A cold chill creeps up along your spine, so you rummage through your shared closet to land on his beloved black sweater. Tugging it on, you can smell a trace of his mint gum and cologne on the cloth, the scent so uniquely Yoongi that it hits you in the gut with a sense of longing. Missing him doesn’t seem like an action but simply a perpetual state of being you’ve found yourself in. Melting into the sofa, you will your body to relax, but the setting only makes you visualize him laying behind you; messy writing scrawled on the parchment of his journal, arms circled firmly around your torso.

A resounding click pulls you out of your melancholic thoughts and for a split second you tense, expecting a stranger to step through the door, but of course it’s Yoongi. I’d rather take on a stranger you sigh internally before you hoist yourself from the couch, the embers of hurt already beginning to reignite with the sight of him, so you escape before the unwelcome tears could come. You turned around so fast that you missed the hurt reflected in his eyes and his perfect facade cracking as he lengthens his steps so he can lock you in place with his arms.

“Let go, Yoongi.” your voice shakes, your heart leaps with elation from his proximity but the poisonous thoughts remain you’re a burden, they whisper. His arms are too restrictive, they encase you with those thoughts and reruns of his hurtful words. There’s no where to escape when you can feel his hurried breaths against the nape of your neck and his hair brushing against your cheek and you want so desperately to just relax in his arms.

“After a week those are the first words you say to me.” his voice is gruff, harsh breathing like he just ran a marathon, the octaves low and gravely which only happens when he’s laden with emotion.

How unfair, you thought as you let yourself close your eyes for a second, sinking into the sense of familiarity and that’s when you realize that those treacherous tears have already escaped past your eyelashes. He seems to be just as affected, tightening his hold around your body and pressing his lips against the shell of your ear.

“I suppose I deserve it.” he whispers against your temple, his lips wet with the unwanted tears.

Min Yoongi rarely cries.

003. Comfort

That’s the exact moment you whip around in his arms, meeting his downcast eyes that are now wide with surprise and his tear stained cheeks. Cold fingers grip your waist and in turn your hands lift to frame his face, pushing away the stray strands of his ebony locks that are covering his shiny eyes.

“No Yoongi, you don’t get to say that.” you chastise, no matter how upset you are with him he should never think he deserves anything less from you.

You swipe at his tears, happy to see that they’ve halted and lookup to meet his eyes—raven orbs filled with as many conflicted emotions as the constellations strewn across the sky— as you try to decipher his words.

“I made you feel like you were a burden.” he breaks the eye contact, hanging his head low in shame because even he himself couldn’t believe he said such a thing.

“It’s o—“ you begin, but he shushes you with a slender finger against your lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare say it’s okay.” he growls, his other hand tightening behind your back, pressing you ever closer to him, as if the lack of distance will make up for the time he spent apart.

“You’re too good to me and don’t you dare forget that.”

“Okay Yoongi, I forgive you.” you allow yourself to melt into his frame, leaning closer to his face that your hands are still framing and letting your lips brush against his, “I missed you.”

He whines when you press a too quick kiss on his mouth, his lips chasing yours after you pull away, making you laugh at his kicked puppy expression when you step out of his arms.

“Well I don’t suppose you missed me that much. You’re so used to being apart after all.” you jest but his expression darkens, as he chases after you until he has you pinned underneath him-

“I missed you more than you know,” he captures your lips with his, his tongue swiping mischievously on the seam of your lower lip, nipping at the flesh, “but the extent to which I love you, I’ll make sure to remind you of it every second of every day.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“You love it.” he grumbles, blushing once again because yeah he is quite the poet when it comes to his muse.

Yoongi holds you close, until both of you are too tired to stay awake, the vacant spot on the bed finally filled with it’s usual occupants.

“Yoongi hyung is going to turn into the Taylor Swift of Bangtan” Jimin murmurs to Namjoon after Yoongi stormed off that night.

“God I hope not, then I’ll have to make them fight every time he’s uninspired.”

“There are other types of inspiration.” Taehyung suggests from across the room with a saucy wink and Namjoon aggressively crosses off Sexy Concept off the list because if there’s one thing that’s TMI between him and Yoongi it would be what goes on behind the “Do Not Disturb” sign.

#bts scenarios #btswriters #kwritersnet #suga scenarios #suga fluff #bts #suga #my sugar #yoongi bear #ugh this hURT #AHA I HOPE YOU'RE CRYING #WELL LIKE IN A GOOD WAY YA KNOW?????#...I sound so sadistic lmao....#1 2 3 drabbles

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hazzamylouworld-blog · 8 years

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Big Brother (Other prompts will be posted in a few days!)

Only posting this tonight bc an anon brought it to my attention that I have forgotten this particular one twice. SORRY ANON! The prompt is about H & L's son being really protective of his younger sibling in Harry's tummy. I completely forgot the singing part, please forgive me 😩 also I really thought I posted this one so sorry for not doing that! He's also six instead of three bc I am trash and forgot that too. -- The pitter patter of tiny feet wake Louis from his slumber as per usual on a Monday morning. He sits up, careful not to wake Harry, his sleeping husband, beside him. It's a rarity for Harry to get sleep anymore so there's no reason to wake him unless necessary. The door opens and Jude, Harry and Louis' six year old son skids into the room. "DADDY!" He squeals before Louis puts a finger to his lips to shush him. Jude puts a finger to his lips too, with a soft giggle as Louis pulls him onto their king size bed. "Well good morning lad. Aren't you supposed to be in school today? It's Monday after all." Jude giggles and shakes his head. "Dadddddy, I'm not going to school today." "And why's that? Are you sick?" Jude giggles again. "NO DADDY! "Not sick, hm? Well, why are you out of school then?" "I'm going to see my baby sister!" "Oh you are? Where is she?" Louis asks, searching around the room dramatically. "She's in Daddy's belly!" "Oh that's right! I almost forgot. And what is your sister's name, hm?" "Natalia, Daddy!" "Natalia, that's pretty! Who came up with that?" "Daaaaaadddddy! YOU DID. Can I feel sister?" He asks, wiggling from Louis' arms. "Not right now, lad. Daddy's still sleeping." "Hmm. No m'not..." Harry says, turning on his back and sitting up slowly. "I'm sorry love. Did we wake you?" Harry shakes his head. "No. Little Natalia did." "Can I feel her, Daddy?!" Harry smiles sleepily. "Of course you can, my little Jude bug." "I'm not little, Daddy! I'm a BIG brother!" "Hm. Not yet you aren't. You're still my little baby until I meet this little baby." "I'm going to the utter-sound today with you and Daddy!" "Ultrasound, love." "Ultra-sound. Now can I feel her?" "Yes baby. She's right........here..." Harry says, pressing his side. Jude presses his face to Harry's belly and hums. "Hey baby Nat! I'm your big brother! I'm going to teach you how to ride a bicycle and play footie." Natalia kicks out sharply at Jude's face and he giggles like mad. Harry smiles lightly, rubbing the side of his belly and puts his head back on the headboard, closing his eyes. "Sleepy love?" "Mm, yeah. A bit nauseous." Louis frowns. "You okay?" "I'll be alright. Just need to lie here for a bit and settle my stomach. Gotta love third trimester morning sickness." "Not too much longer, lovely." Harry nods. "Thirty nine weeks, today." "Oh you're pregnant? I was wondering why your belly was getting so big." Louis says. Harry rolls his eyes. "And people say I'm cheesy." "Alright Jude, lets go get some breakfast." Louis says, picking him up. "I'll be right down.." Harry hums, rubbing his belly with his eyes still shut. "No need, my love. We'll bring you and the little princess breakfast in bed. You just relax." "How lucky am I?" "I'm the lucky one." Louis kisses his lips and presses a hand to his belly before heading downstairs behind Jude. Harry snuggles back down into the sheets and drifts off. "You ready to see your sister today?" Louis asks, messing up Jude's hair as the boy eats his Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes. "Yes Daddy! I can't wait! I'm going to let her ride home in my wagon." "Well we won't be taking her home today." Jude frowns. "Why not?" "Because she's not done growing in Daddy's belly." Jude frowns. "But daddy's belly is so big." Louis laughs. "Don't let him hear you say that." "Natalia can ride in my wagon when we do take her room." "She can't ride in the car with us?" "No, I want to pull her home." "We'll see. How about we take Daddy and baby sister their breakfast?" "Yeah Daddy! I want to feel her wiggle again." Louis smiles. "Ok, you take daddy his drink and I'll take the tray." Half of poor Harry's drink ends up on the floor before it gets to him but that doesn't stop the large smile that covers his face when he sees his two favorite boys. "Thank you so much, you two. This looks wonderful." "Does Natalia like it, Daddy?" Harry places a hand to his mouth until he's finished chewing his bite and nods. "She's kicking up a storm, come here love." Harry motions to him and Jude cuddles up to his side. He lightly knocks on Harry's belly and presses an ear to the side. "Anybody in there?" He asks, earning a round of laughs from his fathers. Only a few hours later, all three Tomlinson boys are dressed and sitting in the ultrasound room waiting for the tech to come and check on their precious Natalia. Jude is a jumping ball of energy, unable to stay still in the seat a kind nurse provided for him. Instead he stands on top of the tech's chair and pokes at Harry's exposed, protruding belly button. "That's enough, love. Daddy's uncomfortable enough." "Natalia likes it. She's kicking my finger when I press your button!" Harry opens his mouth to answer but the tech walking in cuts him off. "Well, I wasn't aware I had a little helper today." She jokes. "I'm the BIG brother! Are you going to show me the video of sissy?" The tech laughs. "That's my job." She sits down once Jude hops down from the chair and squirts goo on the device. She presses it to Harry's belly and he gasps. "Sorry, I thought they warmed it for you." "No, it's not that. Her head is right there and it hurts a bit when it's pressed." "Oh darling, I'm so sorry. But that's definitely a good sign if she's sitting that low already." "No that's completely alright. I can handle uncomfortable. I'm just ready to meet her." "With how low your belly is sitting, I really don't expect it to be much longer." She hums, rolling the device around. "Ok...Jude, could you do me a favor?" She asks. Jude races over to her, nodding his head dramatically. "Press this button for me." She says, pointing to her computer. Jude stands on his tip-toes and presses the button. When he does, a strong heartbeat fills the room and Jude's face lights up. "You make her little heart race." Harry hums. "You must be a very good big brother already." "I am!!! I'm really good at it." The ultrasound finishes up and Harry is happy to find out only moments later that he's already two centimeters dilated. Jude is just as happy when the tech is kind enough to give him a small frame with an ultrasound picture in it. Jude proceeds to show everyone he sees in the hospital the picture and then everyone they run into at the restaurant they eat at after the appointment. "Proud big brother he is, yeah?" Louis hums, watching Jude sleep, head upon Harry's belly and arms sprawled across it. "Think so. He's going to do so well." "Course he is. Tomlinson's are great siblings." "Lets head to bed. I've got rest up to have a baby, you know." Louis smiles and picks Jude up off of Harry's belly. The boy whines in his sleep, gripping at the air to get a hold of Harry's belly again. He eventually settles onto Louis' shoulder and both men giggle at their precious little boy. Harry is woken up early, too early for any signs of light to shine through he and Louis' window, by the strong urge to wee. He sighs, sitting up and taking a moment to gather himself. He doesn't feel great, if he's honest. And it's not just from being woken up. He's hot. And his back aches. And his belly sort of aches. He sighs and places a hand to the top of his belly, exhaling deeply and rubbing a hand along the front of his belly. When he feels ready, he stands and sighs again when his back doesn't feel any better from standing. His belly feels heavy and low and walking to the toilet feels like a chore, even worse than usual. He sits heavily and bends over himself, squishing his belly to his knees and scrubbing at his face with another sigh. He takes his wee and feels a rather odd sensation. He looks into the toilet and gasps at his mucus plug in the bottom of it. He doesn't even remember losing his mucus plug with Jude so the sight is fairly new to him. He pulls his pants back and waddles over to the sink, first washing his hands and then splashing water onto his face to cool his burning skin. He waddles back into the bedroom with a hand plastered to his belly and one to his back, and a look of discomfort plastered to his face. The baby feels low in his belly and there's a bit of pressure that makes him wince and lift his bump up a bit to relieve it. He paces the room, cupping his bump and breathing evenly, not quite ready to lie back down again. He feels his belly seize up suddenly, not as firm as he remember intense contractions being, but firm enough to recognize them as such. He winces at the cramping sensation and rubs the bottom of his bloated belly, puffing out exhales slowly as he walks. His body feels far too overheated and he scrunches his face, fanning himself as the pain grows. He tries to remind himself that the contraction growing stronger only means the end is near but it's hard to concentrate through the wave of pain over his belly. "Wooo....wooo...." He breathes, rubbing up and down his belly. He walks through two more contractions before his aching body begs him to sit. He's exhausted and hopes to get a bit of sleep before his contractions really pick up. He sits down and places another pillow behind him for comfort. He closes his eyes and furrows his brow when he feels another contraction building. He presses a hand to his side as the other rubs large circles into his skin. "Hoh.....hoh....hmm...hmm...hoh....hohwooo...." He breathes, pressing the heel of his palm into his tense belly. "Lou..." He breathes quietly, "Lou....ohhhh..." He breathes quietly, pressing his hand to the mattress and rubbing the other over his belly. "Hm? What's wrong, H?" Louis slurs sleepily. "M'having contractions..." He mumbles. Louis shoots up from the bed. "Ahh..." Harry hisses out quietly. Louis frowns and paws at Harry's belly. "Oh yeah. Your belly is pretty firm..." Harry nods. "They're just starting to hurt. Had a few minor ones at dinner I think." "Yeah? What do you need from me?" "Can you just...can you rub my belly until I fall asleep? It's really achy and sore and I want to get a bit of sleep before things get really underway." "Of course babe." Harry scoots back down into a lying down position, belly propped on his trusty pregnancy pillow. He closes his eyes and sighs and Louis begins rubbing gentle circles into his tummy. Harry tenses up and grits his teeth together, a hiss leaving his lips. Louis feels his belly tighten up and begins adding a bit of pressure to his belly rub. "Having one now?" Harry nods, brow furrowed. "Woo....wooooo....wooooo....." Harry moves his hips uncomfortably and cups his belly. Louis shushes him and runs his finger tips up and down the length of Harry's bump. "Hmmmm...hmmm...hmmmmmm..." "Breathe babe, that's it. Just like that. Ride it out.." Harry grips his pillow tightly and slowly releases it as the pain wears off. "Good job, H. I'd get some sleep now while they aren't too terrible though, alright?" Harry nods. It takes him a few minutes but soon Harry is completely relaxed and his breathing deepens into that of sleep. Louis scoots back down in bed to try and salvage some sleep as well but he feels far too excited to close his eyes. The hours tick by and Louis feels each time Harry has a contraction as the boy's breath hitches and he gets rather fidgety but luckily Louis' pretty sure he's been able to sleep through most of them. At around 7:30, Louis hears Jude begin to wake up from the monitor set sneakily in his room. Louis sneaks out of the room, without waking Harry and tiptoes to Jude's room. "Good morning, Jude Bug." "Morning Daddy!" "Hey Jude? What do you think about missing school today?" "Again? YAY! For what, Daddy? Another utter-sound?" Louis laughs. "Nope. Better than that, love. How would you like to MEET your sister TODAY?" Jude begins cheering and Louis softly reprimands him. "Ok, I'm glad you're excited ok? But we've got to be quiet and let Daddy get some rest. It's going to be a long day for him, ok? It takes a lot out of him to bring your sister to us." Jude nods enthusiastically. "Good. I'll need you to be my little helper today, ok?" "Ok daddy! I can help! I'm a BIG boy." "I know you are. I've got to go check on Daddy, ok?" "Can I come? Please! I'll be very quiet!" "Well...ok. Only if you're quiet as a mouse." Jude holds a finger to his lips and nods. Louis and Jude walk to the master bedroom and Louis quietly opens the door. Harry is still sleeping but he's got a look of total discomfort on his face as his hand grips at his tight t-shirt over his belly. Louis is quick to walk to him and rub the side of his bump until Harry's body relaxes. He then sneaks Jude back out and downstairs. "What does my big helper want for breakfast today?" Louis hums, looking through the cabinets. "Cereal." "Don't tell Daddy and I'll let you have some Lucky Charms, ok?" Jude lights up. "YEAH! LUCKY CHARMS!" "Shhh, remember? Big helpers have to use their inside voices." Louis pours both of them a big bowl and sits down beside him. "Where do we go to get my sister?" Jude asks. "Nowhere. She comes here." "YAY! By the stork?" "Something like that." "How did she-" "No more questions, ok? Lets see who can eat their cereal the fastest." Louis wins but he says Jude does before the boy spills the whole bowl of milk down his shirt. "What now, Daddy?" "How about....we play some video games?" Jude's face lights up. "Really Daddy?!" "Of course. Big helpers ALWAYS play video games." Jude nods wildly and Louis pulls out their gaming system, putting in a nice racing game for the two to play. Jude beats Louis twice and Louis didn't even LET him. They're just starting a new game when the stairs creak. Louis looks up from his spot on the couch and smiles. "Sorry love. Did we wake you?" Harry closes his eyes and places a hand to his back and beneath his belly before shaking his head with an exhale. "No....contractions picked up. I can't sleep through them anymore.." Louis frowns. "Oh love. I'm sorry." "It's ok. Good morning Jude bug." Harry breathes, waddling down the rest of the stairs. "Morning Daddy! Daddy says we get to meet baby sister today!" "That's right, love." Harry hums, rubbing irritatingly at the bottom of his bump. "Another one?" Louis asks. Harry nods and sways, cupping his bump. "Daddy! Your tummy is wiggling." Jude laughs, pointing to Harry's tensing and heaving bump. Harry exhales through his nose and nods. "It sure is.." He breathes out. The pain ends and Louis stands. "What do you need from me, love?" "Nothing. Nothing at all. You're doing great. Could you just keep hanging out with him? He looks so content. I'm going to soak my feet for a bit and try to relax my body.." Louis smiles. "Ok...you sure it won't hurt your back?" "My back already hurts, what's the difference?" Louis laughs. "Ok. Yell if you need anything, I'll come check on you in a bit." "Thanks..." Harry hums, rubbing soft circles into his belly. Harry waddles off to the bathroom and Louis starts the game back up with Jude. Harry starts the water in the tub, making it as hot as possible. He gets a contraction as the water fills the tub and gasps. He takes a deep inhale and cups one hand to the top of his belly near his rib as the other rubs tight lines back and forth and up and down his belly. "Hoh.....hoh....hoh..." He breathes before the pain gets worse and he throws his head back, gritting his teeth. It finally dissipates and he steps over into the tub, soaking his feet in the hot water. It's relaxing at first as he sways his feet back and forth, the warm water doing wonders to his swollen feet. But he soon gets a strong contraction and grips the side of the tub. "Ohhhh..." he whimpers quietly through gritted teeth, rubbing a hand over the surface of his belly. His eyes closes and his brow furrows as the pain grows. He grips the side of the tub with both hands and bends over himself as his belly heaves from him. "Ohhhhhh....ohhhhhhh..." he hums quietly, rocking back and forth with the pain. It finally ends and he tries to find that relaxation again. And it works until he gets another pain. He throws his head back again, gritting his teeth and widening his legs, gripping at his thigh and rubbing a hand over his tummy. It's rock hard now and he feels a bit of pressure building inside of him with each new contraction. They're officially painful but manageable and Harry tries to focus his mind on something peaceful as the pain washes over his belly. The pain ends and Louis knocks on the door quietly before walking in. "Hi love. How are we?" "Had two more contractions in here. Belly officially feels like a rock.." He says, rubbing a hand over it. Louis frowns and paws at the side. "Poor love. All for a good cause though, yeah?" "Yeah." "I was going to start lunch now, Jude says he's pretty hungry. Tomato soup and grilled cheese, can I interest you in anything?" Harry laughs quietly but shakes his head. "I'm not really feeling up to eating much but I'd like to sit with you both." Louis smiles. "We'd love to have you." Louis helps the boy stand from the tub and step out, drying his feet off and standing him back upright. As he does, he feels another pain seize his middle. He scrunches his nose and tilts his head, gripping onto both of Louis' arms. "Uh oh. Contraction?" Harry exhales sharply and nods. Louis places a hand to his belly and rubs soft circles into the skin as it contorts and misshapes beneath his black top. Harry's face scrunches and he tilts his head back. "Ohhhhh.....ohhhhh..." He presses his belly further towards Louis and squeezes his arms tighter before dropping a hand to it. The pain ends and Louis watches Harry's face relax. "You're doing beautifully." Harry nods. "It hurts." "Hold my hand down the steps?" Louis asks. Harry nods and the pair walks down the stairs slowly, Louis holding both arms out in front of Harry in case of a fall or contraction. He doesn't have one until he reaches the bottom of the steps. He grips onto the staircase railing and bends over himself a bit with a scrunched face. "It's ok...breathe...breathe..listen to my voice. Concentrate on my voice..." Louis chants, rubbing the sides of Harry's belly as it jolts and presses forward. "Ah...ah...ahhhgh...." He grunts quietly, gripping tighter onto the railing. The pain ends and Harry waddles behind Louis into the living room to retrieve Jude. "Hi Daddy." Jude says with a smile. "Hungry?" Jude nods. "When is baby sister getting here?" He asks once seated at the kitchen table. Harry gets out plates and Louis stops him. "Go sit down." "I'm fine, Lou. I can help." "I'm not sure, Jude. I hope so soon." "Me too, Daddy!" Harry passes out the plates and when he's done, his belly cramps up again. He grips onto the back of a chair and closes his eyes, rocking his hips and humming. "Daddy? Does your belly hurt when it wiggles?" Harry exhales sharply and rubs a hand to the top of his belly. "Yes...yes love. Mmmmmm..." Harry moans, pressing his belly forward, "Just a bit tight..." The pain ends and Harry sits down beside Jude. Jude begins slurping up his soup and nibbling at his grilled cheese. Harry watches him with a smile. He gets another contraction midway through lunch and presses both hands to his thighs with a scrunched face. "Harry?" "Daddy?" Harry tucks his chin to his chest and grunts out. He throws his head back and grits his teeth, rubbing the heels of his palms into the sides of his belly. "Mmmm....mmmmmm....." It finally ends and Harry looks up to see Jude looking a bit frightened. "It's ok. I'm ok, Bug. I promise." He looks toward Louis and nods with an exhale. "That one really hurt..." He whispers, rubbing his side. Louis frowns. "Can we play Uno now, Daddy? You said we could!" Jude says, looking at his father. "Want to lie down while we play?" Harry shakes his head. "Afraid you'll lose to me if I play? Absolutely not. Lets play." Louis watches him worriedly and Harry side eyes him and nods. "I'm ok.." He mouths. Harry waddles into the living room, feeling his belly misshape and contort beneath his top. Louis gets out the cards and divvies them out evenly to everyone. As he's passing out the cards, Harry feels another contraction. He presses a hand to the floor and another to his side, gritting his teeth and pressing his chin to his chest. "Mmmm...mmmmm..." His belly heaves, stretching his top out and he wiggles his leg a bit against the pain. "H? Maybe lie up agains the couch?" Louis offers once the pain has worn off. Harry nods and the circles moves closer to the couch so Harry can relax against it. He rolls his top up and Jude gasps, rushing over and pressing his lips to Harry's belly. Harry smiles lightly and rubs his hair gently, fanning his bump. "Hot?" "Just a bit. Think it's from the pain." Louis nods and proceeds playing Harry puts a card down and feels another pain only a few minutes later. He leans his head back with a look of discomfort and huffs. Louis turns to him and watches his face scrunches up. He rubs a thumb softly to his belly and presses a hand to the floor, leaning his head to the side. "Mm....mmmmmmmm...mmmmmmmmmm.." He moans rhythmically through the pain. Louis scoots over to him and rubs a hand in large circles over his belly. "Mmmmmmm....mmmm...mmmmmm..." The pain ends and the game continues. Harry plays for as long as he can before getting another contraction. "Ow...ow..owww..." He moans, cupping his bump and running his fingers beneath it. "Hmmmmm...hmmmm...I'm done..." Harry moans , pushing his cards away, "I can't play anymore. I'm going to lie down..." He stands and grips onto the couch. "Ohhhh...ohhhhhhhhhghhh..." He falls to the couch on his side and sighs, running his fingers up and down his bump with deep exhaling breaths. "Ok J, do you want to play some more or watch a movie?" "I wanna watch Star Wars, Daddy!" Louis smiles and nods, slipping the Blu Ray into the disc player and heading over to the couch. Jude sprawls out onto the other side of the huge couch and Louis rubs Harry's belly gently again. Harry sighs in content and gives Louis a small smile. He tenses up only moments later and grips onto the pillow beneath his head. "Mm....mmmmmmm.." He moans quietly below the movie's volume. Louis frowns and rubs his belly for him as it heaves and misshapes. It finally ends and Harry sits up slowly, lying up against Louis. Louis smiles, kissing his shoulder. "You're doing great." "I'm scaring Jude.." "It's ok. He's fine, I promise." Harry tries to stay as quiet as possible through the movie, gripping onto the couch as he feels more contractions roll his belly forward in pain. Louis rubs gentle, large circles into the skin, counting quietly in his head the moments in between pains. Harry leans his head back against Louis and grunts quietly, teeth gritted. "Wooo...woooo....mmmmm....mmm...wooooooo..." "It's ok love. Breathe it out." "Wooooo-ah-ah...oww...owwww.." He moans, cupping his bump and rubbing the bottom. It finally ends and he detaches from Louis. "I have to change position again. I'm too hot." Louis nods, allowing him to move. The boy scoots away from Louis, lying with his head glued to the back of the couch. He feels another pain bloom in his belly and scrunches his face, massaging his fingers in circles on both sides of his contorting belly. "Ohh my tummy...ohhhhhh my tummy....." He groans out, flattening his hands and rubbing them both to the front. One hand rubs in large circles as the other stays tucked over the top of his bump, running his fingers onto the side. "Ohhhhhh.....ah...my TUMMMY....." he groans out, pushing it forward. Jude looks at him wide eyed and scrambled over once the pain has receded. "Daddy? Your belly hurts?" Harry places an arm over his face and nods softly. "Yes love. But I'm ok." "I'll rub your belly and tell sissy to stop hurting you daddy." And it's so sweet and innocent that Harry really can't stop him. "Stop hurting Daddy's belly, Nat.." Jude reprimands wagging a finger at Harry's tummy. Harry feels another contraction building and rubs at his side, gripping onto the couch. He doesn't make any noise but Louis can tell in his face that it hurts. It ends and Jude snuggles up to Harry's belly to watch the rest of the movie. Harry stays quiet throughout the movie but Louis can tell he's struggling the way his hands rubs over his tummy every few minutes. He can see it seize up and push forward as his face changes from neutral to that of pain. "Ugh, I'll be back.." Harry says finally, standing up and waddling uncomfortably to the loo. Louis stays back with Jude but watches on nervously. Harry groans loudly as he reaches the bathroom, ripping his pants down and sitting on the toilet, legs spread wide and arms keeping him upright by the sink and the tub. "Ohhhhhhhh...ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....ohhhhhhh...ahhhhhhh..." He groans and grunts loudly, finally able to vocalize against the pain without scaring Jude. There's so much pressure built within him he's afraid he might explode and in a way, he does as his water releases from him, hitting the toilet loudly and producing a string of intense contractions. Harry grips onto his thighs and leans over himself, groaning against the intense pain radiating over his belly. Louis sits with Jude for as long as he can until his worry nearly drives him insane. "I'm just going to check on Daddy, ok?" Jude nods. Louis steps away and back to the bathroom, not bothering to knock, only walking in. Harry stands at the sink shakily, rocking his hips gently and sniffling. "Everything ok in here?" Harry nods. "I was feeling loads of pressure and pain out there so I came in here so I wouldn't bother Jude but my water broke and my contractions have REALLY picked up, Lou. They're really, really bad.." And then Harry falls into Louis' arms sobbing and Louis feels so guilty. The boy's belly contracts against Louis and pushes out from him as Harry groans and cries against the pain. "Hey, hey breathe for me, ok? I think you're getting close so we need to step out of the bathroom and into somewhere softer for the baby to come, ok?" Harry nods, sniffling and follows Louis back out to the living room. "Lets try all fours, yeah?" Louis asks, placing a hand to Harry's contracting belly, "I remember that helping a bit with Jude." Harry nods and buries his head in his arms, getting onto all fours and rocking back and forth. "Ohhhhhhhh...ohhhhhhhhhhh...ahh..ahhh...owwwww..." Jude goes over to Harry and attempts to rub at his belly but Louis stops him. "Sorry lad but Daddy is in loads of pain right now, ok?" Jude nods. "Keep watching your movie, love and soon sissy will be here." Jude's eyes widen and he scrambles back over to the TV. "Ohhhhh...ughhh....ohhhhhhh....huuuuuuurts...ugh...." "I know, I know love." "Just need to open up a bit more...she's right there.." Five minutes of rocking hips later, Harry stands and walks over to the kitchen door frame and begins swaying back and forth, pulling his pants down gently. "It's time then?" "Yeah...please don't touch me....I don't need anything touching me." He grunts through gritted teeth. Louis steps back and decides to distract Jude the best he can. "Take him to his room." "Harry, but don't you-" "Please, I'm fine, I just really want to be ALONE. I...nnnnnnnnghhhh..." Louis quickly scrambles to Jude's room with him and Harry settles into a deep squat, pushing with all his might. He rolls his shirt up and groans, pressing a hand to his aching, throbbing belly. "Nnnnnnnnngh.....hmmmmmmmghhhhhh...." He feels the baby move down painfully within him and his belly contracts tightly around her. "Ohhhhhh....." He throws his head back and squats again with a deep push. "LOUIS!" Harry calls to Louis just fifteen minutes after telling him to get out. Louis tells Jude to stay out and heads to the living room. Harry is in the same place, both arms cupping the bottom of his bump as he sways, sweaty and red faced. But that's not what Louis is staring at. The baby's head is quickly emerging from Harry and he rubs quickly over to him to cup around her head. Harry presses his head to his arm and groans out, squatting and bearing down again. Minutes later, the baby is in Louis' awaiting arms. The two men are a mess of blurry tears and after Louis cuts the cord, he calls Jude quickly into the room. Hours later, Harry is asleep in the guest room and Louis and Jude are marveling baby sister in her brand new nursery. Jude rocks her back and forth lovingly. "She's a pretty princess, Daddy!" "I know she is." "I'm going to teach you all kinds of things baby Nat, because I love you. I'm your big brother and your best friend." Louis smiles and records a short video for Harry to watch later. He's not sure how many kids he and Harry plan on having but he knows that he'll never be able to get over the feeling of seeing his oldest child with his youngest.

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