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stargazer-sims · 3 months

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The Art of Redemption

(part 16)

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This morning, Nikolai is seeing Beth-Anne, Brett and Brett's guardian Jordy off to South Korea, to the World Junior Figure Skating Championship.

Despite his initial concerns that he wouldn't cope well with this situation, he's doing all right. Admittedly, he was a little anxious about Beth-Anne leaving, and he's still slightly envious of Brett's opportunity to compete at one of the most important international skating events of the season, but neither feeling has proved overwhelming enough to prevent him from staying calm and behaving like a normal adult.

A few days ago, Nikolai suggested it'd make sense if he brought Beth-Anne, Brett and Jordy to the airport instead of Jordy or Beth-Anne having to leave their vehicle in the airport parking lot for a week. Beth-Anne agreed it was a good idea, and apparently Jordy had seconded her opinion. Brett, on the other hand, hadn't seemed quite as impressed with the plan as his coach and tutor were, but Nikolai suspected that had more to do with Brett not wanting to show any weakness in front of Nikolai than with any lingering animosity between the two of them.

In fact, Brett had offered him such a sincere apology for his outburst at the rink a few weeks back, Nikolai is inclined to believe there had never really been any animosity at all. He'd had to remind himself that Brett is only fourteen, and even the simplest upsets can seem enormous and insurmountable at that age. They'd both been trying to process some big emotions, and the combination of Brett's anger and frustration and Nikolai's pain and anxiety had the inevitability of disaster written all over it.

Brett understood that too, in hindsight. He said he'd been so focused on himself and his own feelings, he hadn't even considered Nikolai's, and he said he genuinely felt bad for hurting him.

Nikolai could forgive that. After all, Brett is still learning and growing, and no one is perfect anyway. He'd praised Brett for recognizing what went wrong and for acknowledging it. That had earned him a tentative smile from the teenager, and a promise that he'd try to do better in the future.

"I"m sure you will," Nikolai had told him. "I'll do better too. We'll try to do like Beth-Anne says; respond, not react. Okay?"

"Okay," Brett had agreed, and the two of them shook hands.

The handshake had been unexpected from Nikolai's point of view, and he'd guessed it was something Brett had seen his parents do with their business associates. Still, it felt significant to Nikolai, like he and Brett were making a pact of mutual support and respect. They might never become close, but at least they'd agreed that they shouldn't be adversaries, and Nikolai is more than satisfied with that.

Today, he has a feeling their agreement is about to meet its first test.

They took Beth-Anne's truck to the airport, and Beth-Anne drove on the way there. It's the sort of truck that has a small backseat in the cab, so there was adequate room for all four of them, but Nikolai hadn't considered that he and Brett would be the ones sitting in the back. Jordy is easily 190 centimetres, if not taller, and they decided that he should sit up front with Beth-Anne so he could adjust the passenger seat and have some legroom.

Brett's acquiescence was clearly grudging, and he spent most of the ride alternating between staring out the window and shooting annoyed looks at Nikolai. Nikolai didn't take it personally. When he was Brett's age and travelling to a competition, he's sure he would've preferred to sit next to Grandpa or Allison on a long drive rather than beside some guy he only tolerated.

When they got to the airport, Nikolai helped Beth-Anne carry her stuff even though she insisted she could do it by herself. Brett and Jordy each had a backpack, and Brett had his skate carrier, but it seemed they were sharing a suitcase. The thing Jordy heaved out of the back of the truck was huge, but he didn't appear to have any difficulty with it. The last item was a red garment bag that Nikolai knew would have Brett's costumes in it. Jordy handed that to Brett and took charge of the gigantic suitcase himself, and then the four of them trooped into the airport together.

At such an early hour, there wasn't much of a lineup yet and check-in was relatively easy. Nikolai waited for them. He decided he'd go with them as far as he was permitted, which was all the way to security. That's where they are now.

Standing in the large, open space near the doors to the security area, Brett looks terrified. There's no trace of his typical bravado. He seems far younger than his fourteen years, and he's clinging to Jordy like his life depends on not letting go.

The image of Brett as a frightened child is made even more pronounced by Jordy's physical size. The top of Brett's head only comes up to his broad chest, and his arms are nearly twice as big around as Brett's.

Regardless of Jordy's imposing stature, however, Nikolai is certain there isn't a mean bone in the man's body. He gives the impression of being a natural-born caregiver, and Nikolai can't help admiring his patience with Brett's behaviour.

But, just because Jordy doesn't seem frustrated or irritated, this doesn't necessarily mean he's tolerant of Brett's nonsense. When Nikolai starts to talk to Brett, to wish him luck, the teenager turns away from him and hides his face against Jordy's chest. Jordy's immediate response is to admonish him.

The big man leans in to speak quietly to the boy, the beads at the ends of his braids clicking together gently as he bends his head forward. "Brett, that's not how we behave. Your friend is speaking to you."

"Don't wanna talk to him," Brett mumbles into the fabric of Jordy's coat.

"Don't be rude, please," Jordy says. "There are lots of things we don't want to do in life, but we need to do them because it's the right thing to do."

"I just wanna go," Brett says. "Hanging around here is stressing me out."

"We'll go through security in a minute, Brett," Beth-Anne interjects. "Just let Nikolai say what he wanted to tell you."

"All I wanted was to say good luck," Nikolai says. "You're going to do great, Brett. It's always stressful beforehand, but you've been looking awesome in practice and you know what you're doing, so just have fun with it and the rest will fall right into place."

Brett finally looks up at that. "You actually think I'm worried about the competition?"

Caught off-guard, Nikolai stammers, “You're... not?"

"It's not the competition. It's the flying," Jordy explains. "He doesn't like it, and we can't give him anything to help with the airsickness because... y'know. Drug tests."

"Sorry." Nikolai says. "Yeah, I do know, actually."

"Oh, that's right," Brett ventures, finally letting go of Jordy and standing up straight. "Beth-Anne said you don't like flying either."

"That'd be an understatement." Nikolai says. "I'd call it a win if I made it through an entire flight without throwing up."

Brett wrinkles his nose. "Eww... At least I've never done that."

"Consider yourself lucky. Throwing up and crying on an airplane full of strangers is definitely not a good look, and nobody wants to be next to the guy puking on the plane."

"Gross," Brett says, but then he flashes a quick, cheeky grin. "So, I guess that means I handle flying better than you do."

Nikolai returns the grin. "Gold medal to you for that. And I meant what I said. Have fun, and I hope you kick ass over there. It's your last season at Junior level, so make it one nobody forgets."

“Don’t worry. I will. When I debut in Senior division next season, everybody’s already gonna know my name,” Brett declares. “Too bad you’re not gonna be competing. It’d be fun to challenge you.”

“It’s lucky for you I’m not competing. I’d polish the ice so thoroughly with your scrawny butt, everybody'd call you Zamboni afterwards.”

“You would not.”

“You don’t think? When my leg gets better, maybe we should find out.”

Brett turns to fully face him. He meets his gaze and holds it, and Nikolai sees the unmistakable gleam in his eyes of a true competitor who can't resist any challenge, no matter how big or small. “Is that an invitation to a competition? ‘Cause if it is, you’re on."

"Absolutely," Nikolai says. "Beth-Anne can be the judge."

"There’ll be plenty of people around the rink who can be judges for us, but I think we probably won’t need much help figuring out the winner.”

"You're right." Nikolai can feel his smile spreading across his face. “No question, it'll be me."

"We'll see," Brett says.

This is the point at which Beth-Anne intervenes.

"Okay, boys. That's enough." She gives each of them a stern look. "Nikolai, you should know better, and Brett..." She trails off, shaking her head. "No, you know what? Never mind. We'll discuss this when we get back."

Undeterred, Brett says, "Yeah, we can discuss how I'm gonna make him look like yesterday's news."

"Brett, weren't you in a hurry to get through security?" Beth-Anne asks. She waves in the direction of the wide glass doors. "Why don't you and Jordy go ahead? I want to talk to Nikolai for a minute, and then I'll catch up with you, all right?"

Brett looks like he might protest, but seems to think better of it when Jordy lifts their carry-on bags from the floor and passes Brett's to him. "Come along, Brett. It'll be hard to win anything in Seoul if you're not on the plane when it leaves."

They head off toward the security area, and Brett walks calmly beside Jordy for several steps, but then he puts his bags down and runs ahead. Once he's built up some momentum he does a neat little one and a half rotation jump that brings him back down to face in Nikolai and Beth-Anne's direction again.

He waves at Nikolai and calls out, "See you later... Zamboni!"

Nikolai loses it. He doesn't even bother attempting to stifle his laughter as he watches an exasperated Jordy gather up Brett's skate carrier and backpack and hurry after him. Brett is jogging backwards, probably so he can see Nikolai's reaction. Nikolai sticks his tongue out at him.

"Cheeky little shit," Beth-Anne says, but she's laughing too.

"I can tell you love him," Nikolai says.

"What can I say?" she responds. "Apparently, I have a thing for troublemakers."

Nikolai feigns innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't," she scoffs. "You're the biggest goddamned troublemaker of all, Nikolai Pavlenko." But, a second later her arms are around him and she's hugging him tight. "Thank you."

He laughs as he reciprocates the embrace. "Way to send mixed messages, coach."

"Brett's probably going to be thinking about that ridiculous challenge all day," she says. "You know how reckless that was, challenging him like that? But, I'd much rather have him obsessing about how he's going to come up with a way to beat you than for him to dwell on how much he hates flying."

"So... what I'm hearing is that you think I can win the challenge?"

With her arms still around him, she swats him lightly on the back. "Fuck off! That's not what I said at all. And who says I'm even going to let either of you do it?"

"You mean... you can stop us?"

"Oh my God. I'm about to fucking disown you," she says, but no sooner than these words are out of her mouth, she's squeezing him once again. "For what it's worth though, I do think you'd win the challenge. I also think it's a fucking stupid idea, but it if motivates Brett and gives you something to look forward to, then I guess I'll agree to it."

"And you'll help me get ready for it?"

"How about I train the two of you together?" she says. "You can see up close how I work with someone at Brett's skill level, and I think he'll learn a lot from watching you. But," she adds, her tone suddenly no-nonsense. "All this is conditional, do you understand? If the doctor and the sports therapist fully clear you, we'll do it, but if they say no spins and no jumping..."

"I hope they don't say that."

"Do everything they tell you and keep your fingers crossed, and maybe they won't."

"You know what I want? I want to be able to do everything on the ice that I could do before. I wouldn't be able to keep up with a competitive training schedule, obviously, but... I want to jump again."

"I know you do," she says quietly.

"And I really want to do this challenge with Brett if I can, even if it is kind of stupid."

"I know that too." She's trembling a little, and he wonders what she's thinking. They stand together silently until she composes herself and lowers her arms at last. She takes a step back. "Okay, I'd better go. I'll give you a call when we get there."

"Okay," he says.

"You take care of yourself while I'm gone. Do your physio exercises, and don't forget about your appointment at the sports medicine clinic. Hang up your wet towels, and eat real meals, not just peanut butter toast all the time, and—"

'Beth-Anne, I'll be fine," he says. "If I need anything, I know who to call, and I promise I'll do all my exercises and go to my doctor's appointment and eat lots of protein. It'll be okay."

"Sorry. It's just... I'm not a hundred percent okay with leaving you. Plus, it's strange, being at the airport with you but leaving you behind."

"Yeah, but you don't really want to get on a plane with me and my delicate equilibrium."

"Delicate equilibrium," she echoes. "Well, that's one way of describing it. And maybe I don't love sitting next to you on a long flight, but it's being at the destination with you that I'm going to miss."

"Me too," he says. "But, you know what? Brett's not that much older than Eden, so maybe if everything goes the way we think it should, there'll be a day in the future when we'll be travelling to the same destinations again. You never know, right?"

"If I didn't already say so, it's good to see this side of you," she says. "I was beginning to wonder where my sunshine went."

"Just stuck behind a cloud for a while, that's all."

"Fucking clouds, always messing things up."

They always disappear eventually, though." He picks up her backpack and skate bag and hands them to her. "Here, you'd better take these. Not that I'm in a hurry to part ways, but you might miss your flight if we keep trying to have a long goodbye like this."

"Right," she says as she takes her things from him. "Christ, I'm fucking awful at goodbyes. I better haul ass before this gets any worse."

"I'll see you in a week. Good luck, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves it wide open, doesn’t it?”

"Go on," he says. "Brett and Jordy are waiting for you. You got this. Tell Brett I'll be watching on TV and cheering him on."

She offers him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he says, as he watches her rush off.

The drive back to town feels long and lonely. Even with his favourite classic rock music blasting from the radio and a beautiful early morning sky overhead, he can't help feeling a little sad. He hadn't wanted to say anything to Beth-Anne since it was clear she was already worried, but being left behind feels strange to him too. Naturally, Beth-Anne has travelled without him before, with her other students and for her own personal reasons, but this was the first time they'd been at the airport together without both having a ticket for the same flight. He'd gotten through the actual experience at the airport, but now that he's on his own, he's not at all confident about it.

I'm just going to have to keep myself busy while she's gone, he tells himself. That's what Beth-Anne would tell me to do. Keep busy, so I don't dwell on stuff.

With Beth-Anne away, her group classes will be cancelled for the week, as well as the individual lessons for Eden and the two Novice level girls, Ruby and Katie. It's highly likely that Mariah will come to the rink to skate on her own, and perhaps thirteen-year-old Ruby might do the same, but Nikolai isn't allowed to work with either of them without Beth-Anne's supervision. He can watch, but that's about it, and now that he's started helping with the group classes and with Eden's and Katie's individual lessons, he's not sure he'll be content to simply watch any more.

So, if I'm not going to the rink, what am I supposed to do?

He makes a mental list of the possibilities. He'll visit his parents, of course, and he'll probably have dinner with his sister and brother-in-law at least once. There's his doctor's appointment, his daily walks on the treadmill, his and Ginger's planned bowling and pizza night, and he's positive that Grandpa wouldn't mind if he came over to hang out.

At first, this seems more than sufficient to occupy him, but he quickly realizes it's not going to fill an entire week. He pictures himself doing a lot of reading and playing a lot of video games to pass the time.

Then, he thinks about Anya. He's seen her at the arena a handful of times over the past few weeks, but they haven't spoken, and they only text each other sporadically now. This week might be a good time to meet with her and discuss their relationship. Maybe later in the week, because has to talk himself up and somehow convince himself he's brave enough to do it, and that might take a bit of time.

Ginger might be able to give me a pep talk.

He pictures Ginger's reaction if he asked her to do that, and he wants to laugh. She'd probably tell him to march in there like there's no way he could lose. "Approach it like a competition," she'd say.

Oddly, this sounds like good advice even if it's only in his imagination and not technically from his friend. Maybe he can do it, even if he's scared. He's been scared before competitions too, but he's come out on top more than he hasn't, so there must be some merit in that idea.

By the time he gets home, he feels better.

He thought it'd be weird to stay at Beth-Anne's house without her, but the moment he walks in the door it occurs to him that he thinks of it as home just as much as he does his own place. Inside, the air is warm and smells faintly of the French toast he'd made for breakfast. Their empty breakfast dishes are still on the table, and Beth-Anne's blue oversized cardigan is slung haphazardly over the back of a chair. Elvis the cat is asleep in his favourite spot atop the fridge.

Nikolai shrugs out of his coat and tugs off his sneakers. The kitchen is going to need some attention, but it can wait for an hour or two. First, he wants to write in his journal and then take a nap.

He wouldn't normally nap in the morning, but his knee hurts and he thinks the best cure would be an ibuprofen and some rest. He can sort out the mess in the kitchen after that, and then try to find something to do for the rest of the day.

In his room, he changes out of his jeans and sweater and into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and his favourite t-shirt. As he's folding his sweater and putting it back into one of his suitcases, something at the back of the closet catches his eye. It's the cardboard box he'd noticed when he first came to stay; the one with his costumes from the Four Continents in it. He'd meant to go through it and see what else was inside, but he'd been so caught up in going to the rink with Beth-Anne, learning to cook and do his own laundry, doing physio, and working on his new blog that it hadn't crossed his mind.

Well, no time like the present, I guess.

He really is curious, now that he thinks about it. Slipping quickly into the room's adjoining bathroom, he downs two ibuprofen tablets with lukewarm water, and then returns to haul the box out of the closet. He places it on the bed and climbs up after it.

With a pillow tucked under his sore knee and another behind his back, and the cardboard box beside him, he takes a deep breath before grasping the flaps of the box and pulling them open.

#writing #the art of redemption #theartofredemption #nikolai pavlenko #beth-anne jones #brett eriksson #jordan remington-grey #stargazersims

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keulixeutin · 2 years

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Breathless

a/n: my plane experience didn’t quite go like this. would’ve been nice, though. hope it makes sense, and hope y’all enjoy! summary: a stranger helps ground you when you feel trapped on a plane. bakugou x reader. she/her pronouns. cw: claustrophobia attack, panic attack, anxiety, nausea (no vomiting), fluff, just bakugou doing the best he can. au, but no powers are mentioned so u can pretend its canon if u want lol. word count: 4,258 words

You jerked awake, suddenly feeling odd.

There was something—off.

You didn’t feel right, but you couldn’t pick up on the reason why. There was an uncomfortable sense of dread growing in the pit of your stomach, spreading throughout the rest of your body. Your hands were clammy; your skin felt sensitive; you were jittery in ways you hadn’t been before, and you couldn’t put a finger on why.

You looked around the plane. It was dark; most of the passengers had their window shutters closed against the blinding afternoon light. Many of them were dozed off, too. You wondered if anyone else felt this—unnerved.

You were sitting in the back of the large plane, sandwiched tightly between the window and the man beside you. You felt more cramped than you remember feeling in previous plane rides. You normally handled them well, so what was happening now? Was this plane somehow more narrow than others? Was it more narrow in the back? Did this man with his wild hair and impossibly wide shoulders really have to put his elbow so far across the arm rest into your space?

No, no, that wasn’t fair. It was tight for everyone. This uncomfortable feeling—you just needed to stretch. Just need to shift a little, like a cat circling a spot three times before settling down to sleep.

You straightened your back, trying to soothe out the knots and kinks and pop it. It didn’t work, didn’t pop and didn’t help. The odd feeling lingered—intensifying even—no. No, it wasn’t intensifying, because intensifying would be bad. It was just there. It was just uncomfortable. Disagreeable—yes. That was a good word, a calm and collected word, a not-too-negative word to describe your situation. Once you found an agreeable position, you would easily fall back to sleep and bypass the last couple hours, you thought to yourself.

Optimistic, you leaned against the window.

Then, you leaned back into the chair, folding your arms, hyper aware of his elbow still past the invisible line.

Then, you unlocked the table from the seat in front of you to try and rest your head on it, but you realized that there wasn’t much space for you to curl your back, so you pushed it back up, locked it, and sat, staring at the seat in front of you that began to recline back, toward you.

It was so tight here. So confined. You felt restricted. You felt—

—Trapped.

You felt trapped.

As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you clearly felt the weighted dread on your chest, the difficulty swallowing, the starting heat.

It was a lack of air.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

It wasn’t discomfort; it wasn’t disagreeable. It was suffocating.

You couldn’t breathe.

Instead of finding a comfortable position, you found that you were possibly—probably—very definitely having a claustrophobia attack.

You felt yourself starting to panic. This was new to you. You usually flew so easily; sometimes, it got tight, but you never felt stuck. Sometimes you ached, but you never felt nauseous.

You closed your eyes, imagining that you were in a car driving through grassy plains, imagining beautiful wildflowers of all types of colors. The sun was bright, as bright as the tall sunflowers that greeted you as you stared out the passenger window.

Okay, okay, you thought. This was doable. You could do this. You could manage two (and a half) more hours doing this.

The plane shifted suddenly—slight turbulence—and that was all your brain needed to go into overdrive. The grassy plains in your imagination suddenly got taller, bigger, growing wildly to eclipse the flowers, the sky, the path, boxing you in, trapping your car—and then the car suddenly wasn’t a car, but a metal box getting smaller and smaller and darker and tighter and—

Your eyes shot open, breaths coming out in short, tiny pants.

You were dangerously hyperaware of all movement and spacing around you, how everyone seemed to take up so much space, how they seemed to take up so much of your space, the elbow crossing the arm rest, the reclining seat in front of you, the child accidentally kicking the back of your chair. Your nausea was building, your chest was burning, your vision was darkening—shit, shit, shit, what were you going to do—what were you going to do?

“Hey. You alright?”

You turned to the man beside you, the one whose elbow was two centimeters too far over the invisible line, and logically you knew that it was illogical, but with the way your breaths came out shallow and desperate, with the way your heart was trying to claw its way out of the heat behind your diaphragm as though there were a fire starting behind your ribs, under your skin, it only seemed right and helpful and sane to blame him.

He seemed to see something on your face. His red eyes narrowed at you. Maybe he saw the terror. Maybe he saw the flames.

“I have to get up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite your intense need to double over and cry and throw up and pass out, in whatever order gave you the most relief. “Please. Please, I n-need to get up.”

Without hesitation, the stranger woke up the woman in the aisle seat. Instead of stand up, she stayed seated, twisting her body and moving her legs to the side, expecting the two of you to squeeze through, but the man hissed out an aggravated, “Move your ass, lady!” She scrambled to her feet with a huff.

You all but fell into the aisle, feet trying to find ground beneath you, but you were furiously aware that nothing was solid ground, that you were in the sky in a metal bin, and it wasn’t the fall that frightened you but the walls, how they wouldn’t expand, and the people, how they could only expand, only take up more space, more oxygen.

So close to the back of the plane, your eyes caught the back room where the flight attendants sat. It was empty, though, so you quickly rushed to the back, trying not to frighten people with your heaving so loud in your ear as you gripped the wall and turned the corner, slowly falling to your knees.

You swallowed a gasping breath—one, two, then another, more. The darkness that had been dotting your vision was fading. The space here wasn’t much; you wouldn’t be able to stretch out your legs without leaning against the emergency exit (which you absolutely weren’t going to do), but the fact that you weren’t pressed up against a hard shoulder and a shuttered window was already relieving some weight off your shoulders, extinguishing some of the flames from your chest.

“You need water?” Same gruff voice—same gruff scowl.

He was crouched in the aisle, peering at you from the entrance. You were vaguely aware that, though he couldn’t tell his elbow had been encroaching your space, he was mindful of not crowding you here and not hovering over you with his size and height.

You nodded. He disappeared. You hazily remembered the flight attendants were pushing their drink cart at the front of the plane. When he came back, he handed you a cup and sat down on the other side of the little space, legs tucked against his chest.

“Thanks,” you said. The nausea was still bubbling in your stomach; you didn’t want to give it fuel, so you took tiny sips. “Y-you can go back,” you told him. “I should be okay now.”

“It’s fine—I’ll stay.” He was still scowling, eyebrows furrowed in sharp, angry angles, but there had been a softness in the red of his eyes when he had seen you gasping beside him, when you had asked him to let you through. “Lean back and keep your chest open,” he said. “Stop hunching.”

You slowly adjusted your posture.

“Good. Fix your breathing; you’re on the fucking verge of hyperventilating. In through your nose and out through your mouth to slow down. Three or four counts. Whatever you can manage.”

You didn’t realize that you had still been gasping for air. The initial panic had subsided as soon as you sat down in this open space (open being extremely relative), but you could still feel the anxiousness on the edge of your skin, as though it were lingering smoke, or embers ready to reignite.

You crossed your legs, tilted your head back, and rested your hands on your knees to ensure that your shoulders didn’t shift back into a cowering hunch. You closed your eyes, counted three as you inhaled through your nose, counting again as you exhaled through your mouth.

“Good,” you heard him say again.

Good, you thought.

In—out.

In—

The plane shook suddenly. It wasn’t an abnormal shake, just a small, tiny piece of turbulence that was to be expected at that height, but in your delicate and frazzled state, it felt as though you were minutes from the door and ceiling collapsing on top of you, seconds from your breath being taken away.

You choked out a gasp—

“You’re fine.”

No, he couldn’t know that, he—

“Hey—look at me.”

You felt a grip on your left hand that rested on your knee. You opened your eyes; he was glaring at you—no, he was looking. Brows sharp. Angular. Crimson eyes fierce—intense—but not knife-like. Not jagged. Not cruel.

“It’s mild turbulence,” he said. He squeezed your hand once.

You swallowed a nervous lump. Your mouth was dry. Your throat hurt.

“I’m telling you, you’re fine. You need to keep breathing,” he said, then adding, “slowly,” as though you had forgotten (how could you forget?).

You tilted your head back.

“Come on—inhale, one…two…three…four… Good.”

Good, you thought.

“Again—one, two, three, four. That’s it.”

He squeezed your hand a second time.

He was—odd. And fucking rude. You thought people were supposed to be more compassionate in these situations, empathy coloring all their movements, expressions, and voices, but this stranger was sharp, brusque, all angles and hard lines.

And yet—there was an unusual and unexpected sense of reassurance in his terse honesty, in the tight grip of his hand, in the callouses that brushed against your knuckles every time he shifted and squeezed. There was an inexplicable comfort in his curtness, in his hard angles, like you could touch him and your fingers wouldn’t sink; and there was something pleasant about holding someone and knowing that they had a weight to them, a structure, a frame that wouldn’t bend or break or flatten. You felt like you could trust him to tell you without falsities or sweetness whether the plane was landing safely or exploding wildly. You felt like he’d find space for you in his diaphragm in the fire, in the fall, like he’d give you the air from his own lungs if that was what it took. You didn’t know why you thought this, or what about him said this, but you held onto that thought with clenched hands and clenched jaws.

It helped you settle against the makeshift wall behind you, made of the flight attendant’s folded seat. There was still a curling ball in the pit of your stomach, but at least the air was coming in deep and leaving slow, unobstructed.

“How do you feel?” he asked; a question that was normally laced with concern was colored coarse.

“Better,” you answered quietly.

You felt a tender loss as he released his hand and shifted back to his end. A silence settled between the two of you as you both listened to your breathing.

After a few minutes, he asked, “This happen often?”

You shook your head.

“No medication then? Sedative, anti-anxiety?’

“No,” you said, shaking your head again. “This is the first time.” You would’ve laughed incredulously if you didn’t feel like every energy was being used to keep your chest open and not on fire.

You thought back to the past several weeks, leading up to this trip to visit your friends on the coast. You thought about the stress from work, the deadlines you couldn’t miss and the projects you couldn’t disregard, your calendar piled on and crammed with events and hang-outs to try and please everyone’s desire to see you, the way you forced yourself to clean the apartment at 1 AM because you couldn’t stand the mess, and then sleep at 3 AM because you had to decompress, and then wake at 7 AM to shower and get dressed, starting all over again. All of it finally caught up with you in the tiny back of this tremendous plane.

The flight attendant suddenly peered in. “Is everything okay?” she asked, looking between you and the stranger. Her frown seemed to imply that she had initially thought something lewd was happening, but then she noted that you were sitting separately and still straining to keep from boiling over. Her frown softened. “Are you okay to go back to your seats? You can’t really be back here, and the seatbelt light is on. I can get you more water if needed, ma’am.”

Before any type of panic could bubble in your chest, before the words even had the time to linger in the air with her breath, the frenzy-haired and red-eyed stranger interrupted, saying, “She’s trying to catch her breath. Give us ten minutes and then we’ll head back."

The flight attendant looked hesitant, but another look at you made her acquiesce. “I’m sorry. I can only give you five minutes; we’re almost done passing out drinks and the cart has to come back here, okay?” she said. Then, turning to you, she asked, “Do you want more water?”

What you wanted was for her to give you a break.

“No,” he said.

She looked to him, maybe confused as to why he was answering, maybe concerned as to why he was so rough, but she didn’t say anything else and disappeared down the aisle. You relaxed the best you could against the hard wall, grateful for his gruffness, and murmured your thanks.

“It’s whatever.”

You sat back in silence, focusing on breathing. You didn’t try to imagine anything. You just counted. You almost asked to hold his hand again, but then the flight attendant came back too soon and you were forced to get up.

The walk back to your seat was painful, each step rekindling the embers in your chest. You took your seat, feeling the dread as a lump in your throat that, when you swallowed, sat in your stomach with a gravity you didn’t think you could keep contained.

“Hey,” the stranger said, catching your attention. “You got anything to keep occupied? Fidget spinner? Games?”

You shook your head hesitantly, feeling small, feeling stuck, feeling tr—

“Focus on me, dumbass. No games? No portable consoles? Like a DS?”

You sighed shakily, trying to focus your unfocusing eyes. “I know what consoles are. I brought a book and my laptop, and I promise you, I will upchuck if I read right now.”

“Tch.”

He pulled his dark red backpack out from under the seat and rifled through it. He took out a Nintendo Switch, turned it on, and shoved it into your hands.

“Here. Play,” he ordered. He didn’t explain the rules, just plugged in the earbuds, tucked both into your ears, skipped the wordy intro, and then watched you maneuver your character and die. A lot. He swore a lot, too, and you found that listening to his harsh mutterings was better than listening to the game’s soundtrack. You tugged the earbuds off, letting yourself be distracted by his game and his voice.

You felt okay for a moment, whispering back to him—

“This is hard.”

“You’re just ass at it.”

—thinking that you could spend the rest of the flight like this, not relaxed but just okay.

And then the plane shuddered and your stomach clenched and your vision was wobbly, and he was too close to you, the game was too much in your hands, just another thing taking space, and you had to drop it into your lap or you were going to be so nauseous. You gripped onto the seat in front of you, aware that you were encroaching on the passenger’s space but not finding it in you to care. You fought the desperate urge to clamber out of your seat and crawl toward the back, quickly forgetting why you even needed to fight it.

“Chest open.”

You were vaguely aware that you were nodding, vaguely aware that he had shifted back from you as far as the seats would allow, even to the point where he was invading the aisle woman’s space, but it didn’t seem like he cared either.

“Keep the count,” he told you. “You want to sit in the bathroom?”

You shook your head.

“Then you gotta sit fucking straighter than that.” There was no fire behind his words. You wondered if swearing was just part of his everyday vocabulary. He gently grasped your shoulder, touched your back, helped you sit up with your chest up and shoulders back. You closed your eyes, counting, counting, breathing.

It felt like there was a blazing in your chest, like something ready to ignite, something trying to—and it felt like you were trying to cover it with just your body, just your small diaphragm, just the little bones of your ribs. How could so much heaviness, so much fire, fit behind the smallest bones, you wondered.

He must’ve noticed you squeezing your knees, because you felt his hard hand grasp the back of your soft knuckles. Another hand gently massaged the back of your neck.

“You’re alright,” he said. “You’ll be fine. Keep breathing.” His hand dipped to your shoulders, moved up and down your back, heavy fingers pressing against knotted muscle, blunt nails scratching at clammy, stiff skin. “Good?” he asked.

You nodded, appreciative of the touch, of a different type of pressure on your body. Good.

“Focus on my voice. Just keep breathing.”

“—W-why—” you gasped out softly.

“Why keep breathing?” He looked like he was restraining himself from yelling. There was a pulsing vein in his forehead, visible even in the dim light, that would’ve made you smile, that would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so busy trying to rework your lungs.

“No—why h-help?”

He frowned. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

What a bizarre response, you thought. What a perfect one, for someone whose scowl didn’t quite match his red eyes.

You flipped your palm over, interlaced your fingers through his, and held tightly. His thumb rubbed circles into the back of your hand. The callouses right beneath his fingers were dry and cutting. His hand and hold felt honest. He murmured encouragingly, the same few lines in the same low tone, choppy and curt, on repeat like he didn’t know what else to say. His hand on your back was similar. Sometimes he massaged too hard; sometimes he scratched too light. A clumsy and sweet effort.

You closed your eyes, fighting the mismatched breathing, counting your breaths, counting the seconds, and then counting the circles he drew against your skin and the times he gripped your shoulder, the hold slowly grounding you.

You were on the edge—but you were tied to a lifeline. Your toes hovered over the black space right past the threshold, but you wouldn’t fall—you wouldn’t fall—you wouldn’t fall. You weren’t comfortable—but you were okay.

You leaned against the shuttered window, and fell into a light and jerky sleep. Whenever you felt yourself fall too deep, though, you were wracked with an immediate and sudden fear. You’d shoot awake, panting, gasping, but he’d squeeze your hand tight, murmuring the same comforting and clumsy words until you settled down—“In through your nose, idiot. How many times I gotta tell ya? Good, good, just like that.”

Good, you thought.

It was the same pattern every five, maybe ten minutes. You didn’t fall asleep for long, the nerves always working you up to a dreadful jerk awake, even if there wasn’t any turbulence. But he squeezed your hand every time, with a scowl that didn’t meet his eyes, and he’d repeat the words again and again, like a chorus, like a mantra, like a prayer, one you held onto fiercely as you hovered over the edge for the rest of the flight.

The jostling of the plane landing was what woke you up next. Rather than a panicked gasp, your eyes fluttered open, feeling an ache in your neck and a weight on your head. The seat before you was crooked—no, you were crooked. Your head was tilted, resting on the stranger’s shoulders—and his head was rested on yours. In your lap was his Switch—and the both of your hands, still intertwined.

You smiled and took in a deep and unimpeded breath of stale plane air.

You touched his shoulder tenderly. “Wake up,” you said.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“We’ve landed,” you said, pulling your fingers out of his warm hold and watching how his hand twitched in your direction, as if chasing your grasp.

He sat up, eyes groggy. He tried to stretch his arms, immediately hitting the top of the aircraft cabin with an annoyed growl. You wondered if he ever had claustrophobia attacks. His frame was so large; how could he move through this world without feeling enclosed, encaged in every room he stepped in?

He caught your eyes staring.

“You good?” he asked, voice surly and shaded with sleep still.

“Good,” you said. “Thanks to you.”

You watched everyone get up before you, thinking that it’d be easier to let the fast-paced crowd hasten toward the exit first. The man sat with you; you shouldn’t have been surprised, but you were. He seemed like the go-go-go type.

When it was finally your turn, the stranger stepped out, slung his backpack over his shoulders, and grabbed his black suitcase from the overhead compartments.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked.

You pointed to the dark mauve, plastic one behind him.

Without another word, he pulled it out and set it down; his biceps flexed under the weight. He let you leave first with your backpack over your shoulders and his Switch against your chest, with him following behind, easily rolling both suitcases down the aisle.

When the two of you exited the gate, you pulled off to the side, relieved to be back on solid ground—but a little disappointed, you found, to be leaving him.

“I really appreciate everything,” you said, giving back his Switch. “I don’t even know how to truly thank you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t mention it.” He was gruff, he was scowling—and he was soft. You could see it clearly in his eyes. Now that you were out of the dim plane cabin, you could see how his brows had imperceptibly straightened, how his eyes weren’t so much red but a darkened and complicated pink.

“Can I hug you?” you asked quietly, hearing your heart hammering for a variety of reasons that you were too tired to think on.

He didn’t answer, but he uncrossed his arms, holding his hands out to you, the posture as gentle as the pink in his eyes. You stepped into his embrace eagerly, his larger body engulfing you entirely.

His heartbeat was strong. Steady. Curt, like his words. His body was all hard angles, all flexed muscles, all sturdy structure and heavy frame. His cologne smelled faintly of spiced wood, reminding you of summer storms, electricity crackling through a vibrating air. You took in a deep, deep breath, holding the smell behind your aching diaphragm, behind the small bones of your ribs, inside your tired lungs for as long as he held you.

You pulled back finally. Reluctantly.

“Thanks,” you repeated, looking up at him and catching the softness in his eyes again, the only part of his body that wasn’t all sharp.

For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.

You didn’t know why. Just a feeling. Just the way his grip tightened on your waist, the way his eyes flickered down to your lips, the way the air seemed to buzz, your body answering on your tip-toes.

But he pulled away, dropping his hands to grab your suitcase handle.

“Got anywhere to be?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you said. “Why?”

“You should hydrate and eat. Come on.”

”Wait—”

“Stop complaining and let’s go.”

You smiled, touching his arm as you caught up. “I was just going to ask your name.”

He glanced at you. “Bakugou,” he said. “Katsuki—just call me Katsuki.”

“Okay,” you said, breathless in a way you didn’t mind.

But he didn’t ask your name. Instead, as you followed him down to luggage retrieval, he asked when your return flight was, and when you found that you were both on the same plane again but not in the same aisle, you saw him check the airline app for any available seats near you. You thought that it was somehow on brand that he didn’t ask for your name. You thought this was part of his curtness, part of his clumsiness, part of how his hands were so rough but encompassed yours so warmly, so sweetly.

#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ fandom「 bnha 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ character「 bakugou 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ titled「 breathless 」#╰【 FILED UNDER … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ novae writes 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ reader「 she/her 」#bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #claustrophobia tw #panic attack tw #anxiety tw #claustrophobia attack tw #dang got another one up?#on a roll #it don't usually happen like this LOL

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year

Text

Taking Root

A/N: This was supposed to be a micro-fic based off of a prompt sent to me when I was trying to kickstart the creative juices again, and it just... didn’t want to stay short. Which is just fine with me. This takes place roughly two years after Point of No Return (and the still upcoming epilogue/sequel Petrichor- I dropped a few hints about what to expect in that series here). It could probably be read as a standalone story, but it really should be read along with the main story for that universe. Huge thank you to @valkblue who sent the prompt that sparked this one shot!! Thanks, Angie!! <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none at all. this is very very soft.

Prompt: One character ruffling the other’s hair

Summary: After everything that Clara has done for Ezra and Cee, the two of them team up to make sure that her birthday is a special one.

“Are you sure she won’t be back before we’re done?”

Cee asked the question as she dropped a stack of wooden slats next to the porch steps. They landed with a soft clanking thud in the spongy grass near the toolbox Ezra had just set down. Up on the porch, Number Four jumped at the sudden sound, her stubby legs splayed in different directions as she toppled to her side. Abe, on the other hand, remained curled up on the doormat in the shape of a plump honey loaf, one orange ear twitching towards the source of the noise and deeming it nothing worth waking over. The smaller gray and white cat scrambled to her feet, letting out a tiny mewling yell as she tottered over to Abe’s side and tucked herself under his tail.

Brushing her palms together, Cee glanced over her shoulder at the long gravel driveway, as though expecting to see puffs of pinkish dust kicking up under the crunch of tires. Finding it empty, she turned back to face him, her lopsided frown almost comical to Ezra. No reason to fret, we have plenty of time.

“Of course I’m sure, Birdie.” He shifted his weight and tilted his head, left hip jutting out for his hand to rest on. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

With a roll of her eyes, the girl snorted. “How about last week? When you told me to turn right on Plox Street instead of left, and then we ended up on the other side of town, three zones from where we were supposed to-”

“I did not intend for you to take that question so literally,” he responded through a smirk, eyes narrowed in faux irritation. “Besides, we did eventually end up in the correct location, and in doing so we discovered a new route to the Med Center.” Arching one eyebrow, he held up his pointer finger. “One that is much more scenic, I might add.”

Cee tilted her head to one side and then the other. “Yeah, yeah.” Her frown finally faded into a smile that brightened her whole face. Though he wouldn’t know it for months after they came to be one another’s family, the girl’s smile - when it was genuine, when she was actually happy and it wasn’t forced or unsure - was infectious in the best way. As soon as he saw it, Ezra’s own cheeks pulled up in a grin. Because I am not immune to its shine. “It was a nicer ride.”

Beginning as soon as her second rainy season at the farm came to an end, Ezra had been teaching Cee to drive Clara’s truck. And she is taking to it like a lakefowl to water. Not that I am the least bit shocked there. Their lessons had started small, not leaving the property until she was comfortable with the pedals and controls. Once she was, Ezra let her drive short distances into town, always in the passenger seat giving calm encouragement, directing her on when to use signals, and reminding her to keep an eye on the power gauge. When trips to the butcher and the farm supply became simple enough for her, Clara suggested that Cee be the one to drive Ezra to his appointments at the Med Center, where he was being fitted for his prosthetic.

Finally.

After just over two years of fighting, frustration, failed muscle matter scans, grueling physical therapy exercises and an endless regimen of pharmaceuticals, he had been approved to receive a fully integrated mechanical arm to replace the one he’d lost on the Green.

Finally. I… I miss it.

He was still a few weeks away from the surgical procedure to attach it, but he had already been fitted with the brace mechanism that his new right arm would connect to - a series of metal fasteners that had been surgically fused to the bones of his shoulder and humerus. Shrugging his right shoulder, he rolled it backwards and felt as the material of his t-shirt skated over the fasteners. It was an odd sensation, and an even odder thing to think about how the six knob-like devices were embedded into his skeletal structure. Soon they would be covered not by his clothing, but by his arm.

And then I will be able to do things that I have not done in far too long.

A flood of ideas crashed through his mind then. Holding Clara closer and more tightly than he had in seven years was, of course, at the forefront. But it was followed by much simpler things. Like regaining his penmanship, lacing his boots without the use of a hook, peeling potatoes or chopping leeks in the kitchen, helping in the Thulian fields, having a catch with Siggi - and now Cee - at the end of harvest feast. They were things he was so ready for that the excitement kept him up at night, the phantom nerves of his lost limb itching with how close they were to feeling again.

But first there was a project to finish.

On Kamrea, and in the farmlands specifically, it was tradition to give handmade gifts to celebrate birthdays, and Clara’s was fast approaching. The previous year had been consumed by Ezra’s return and recovery, getting Cee settled into her new life, and planning and hosting Sig and Runa’s wedding. With so many moving parts and all at once, birthday gifting had taken a backseat.

Clara still made sure to have something for Cee, though.

He recalled the gobsmacked look of surprise on the newly turned 15 year old’s face as Clara handed her a small, brightly wrapped package after dinner, the look transforming into one of pure delight as she slid one finger between the paper to open it, revealing a hand painted photo frame. In it was a picture Siggi had snapped of Cee with Ezra and Clara at the Harvest feast a few months prior. There had been tears then, the girl flinging her scrawny arms around Clara’s neck in thanks.

That memory warmed his chest as much as the midday starshine warmed his skin.

Oh, Huckleberry, Birdie and I are both so lucky to have you. And I’m the luckiest of us three, for I have you both.

Now that things had more or less calmed down for the three of them, Ezra had been eager to get back to the tradition. He had always put thought and effort into the things he chose to make for Clara, often using his time away on the Green to brainstorm ideas. It helped keep him from feeling too homesick, thinking of ways to make the woman he loved smile. Because that smile is still the most glorious sight these eyes have ever seen. It always will be. Past gifts had included the swing hanging from the crater-oak beside the creek as well as the windchimes that graced the front porch of the house. The fact that both of those objects remained in place even through his absence from the farm was not lost on him, and he looked forward to giving her something else that would become a part of their home.

And this time he had an accomplice in Cee, the girl just as excited to have the chance to give Clara a gift as Ezra was. In fact, what they were currently in the process of building had been Cee’s idea.

And it was a perfect one.

In addition to learning how to drive and finding her feet within the Kamrean school system, Cee had also spent much of the last year and a half learning about Thulian - and plants in general - from Siggi. She’d seen the harvest right away, and after that, the preparations for the rains. But it was what she learned when the planting season came around again that seemed to strike a chord with her, the care and tending that went into helping things grow. Coming in from the fields one day while Clara was in town, her light hair stained pink with pollen powder and an enthusiastic shine in her eyes, she had informed Ezra that she knew what she wanted to make as a gift.

“But I’ll need your help,” she’d told him, biting her lower lip. “I’ve never built anything before. I’ve fixed things, like my headphones but- ” Her forehead creased as she shrugged. “But that’s electrical stuff. Wiring. I… I wouldn’t know where to start when I comes to wood and-“

Ezra chuckled. “Well, you can start by telling me what it is that you would like to construct, Birdie.” Reaching forward, he brought his hand up to the top of her head, brushing the Thulian powder from her hair and tousling the strands. Cee clicked her tongue in what Ezra knew to be false annoyance, the girl only half able to pull off a very unconvincing frown. The look only made Ezra’s smile lift higher. “If it is something I can assist you with then I promise that I will.” He arched one eyebrow, tilting his head towards his right shoulder. “Do, however, keep in mind that my carpentry abilities have been somewhat limited since the last time I took up a hammer.”

Cee shook her head, her now powderless hair swaying around her shoulders with the motion. “I just need you to tell me what to do and… make sure I don’t muck it up.”

“Well then I’ll have an easy job, Cee. I have yet to witness you do a single task poorly.” Ezra brought his hand to his hip, shifting his weight to one leg. “Now, will you tell me what it is you want to build? Or should I venture a guess?”

It was her turn to let a small amused huff slip through a smirk. “I could make you guess, but the idea is to have it finished before Clara’s birthday.”

That made him laugh, this one more full. “Alright then, Little Bird.” He dipped his chin, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. “Let’s hear it.”

She told him that she wanted to design and build a trellis for the front porch. Siggi had shown her how they were used in last season’s fallow field to help the newly planted Thulian stalks grow while they were still establishing roots. “It’s, well the porch is where we all spend a lot of time and-” She paused, taking a breath and not at all trying to hide the slight shake in it. “And a trellis is like… it’s like what Clara - and you - have done for me. Are doing for me. And I-”

Ezra reached for her then, not to ruffle her hair this time, but to pull her into a hug. Her arms - still thin but now noticeably stronger as a result of farmwork and full meals - wound immediately around his torso. She gave a small squeeze that he returned, along with a quick peck to the top of her head. “It’s perfect, Cee.” He released her, pulling back to look at the girl who had become such an important part of his life. “Clara is going to love it.” Just like she loves you. Just like I do.

“Okay, but seriously.” Cee bent down to pick up one of the wooden pieces, using it to gesticulate at the porch steps and snapping Ezra out of his daydream. He followed where she had indicated, his eyes landing on the framework for an arched trellis that was partially in place. “We’ve been working on this for two days already. Are you sure we’re going to finish in time?”

Ezra stooped down with a grunt to open the tool box. “I am, Little Bird.” He handed her a hammer, her fingers wrapping surely around the grip. “The Kamrean Agricultural Authority’s annual convention is a seven cycle affair. Clara and Sig will not be back for another few days, which gives us plenty of time to finish constructing the trellis and to plant the seedlings.” Pulling a handful of nails from the box, he jumbled them around in his palm before selecting one to pass to her, pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger while the rest curled inward to keep the other nails from spilling into the grass. “You worry too much, you know that, right? We are making good time. In fact I would dare to say that we’ll have this finished by supper.”

She lined the piece in her hand up to the framework, matching the pre-drilled holes to the markings that Ezra had shown her how to measure out. Letting out a sigh, she waited for him to replace her hand on the slat with his own, holding it still so she could drive the nail to attach it. “If you say so.” She set the nail, pinching it carefully as she readied the hammer. “Did you decide what we were planting in it?”

Waiting until after she’d finished with that slat, Ezra nodded, handing her another piece of wood from the pile. “That I did, and I think you’ll be happy with my choice, too.” In fact I know you will. I have heard you talk about wanting to see these blossoms extensively.

Cee scrunched her nose, taking the piece from him and repeating the process. “Me? This is a gift for Clara.”

Again he waited until she’d whacked the nail, all the while watching to be sure that she wasn’t about to smash her own hand. But she didn’t. See? Like a lakefowl to water. Anything she sets her mind to, this one. “It is a gift for Clara, but it was you who pointed out that we all spend time together on the porch, was it not”

“Yeah, but…” She trailed off, taking the next board that was handed to her. “Well, are you going to tell me, Ezra? Or am I going to have to guess?”

He laughed, the sound carrying up onto the porch and again startling Number Four but going unnoticed by Abe. “Actually I am quite confident that you would be able to guess. I’ll even give you a hint.”

Cee narrowed her eyes and pushed her lips to one side. “Fine. What’s my hint?” She continued on with her task of securing the slats that would act as a ladder for the vines of the climbing flowers Ezra had selected.

“They can be found in your favorite bo-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the hint, though, Cee’s eyes widening with wonder. “Novalilies?! Ezra? Are… Did you… Are we planting Novalilies?”

“We are indeed, Birdie.” He grinned. “I knew you’d guess it.”

Novalilies were the flowering vines that grew over the great archway leading to the Bowsum Conservatory - a place that Ezra had taken Clara so many years ago, and one that Cee had read about so many times that he knew that she could see it in her mind without ever having set foot there. They grew quickly and blossomed into soft white flowers that hung down like trumpets. But the real splendor came at night, when the petals, having soaked up the daylight, twinkled like stars against the dark.

“I…” She blinked, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t know they could grow anywhere but in the Ephrate.”

“All kinds of things can grow on Kamrea,” he told her. “Thulian, Crater-apples, Novalilies.” With a wink, he passed her the last slat for the side that they were currently working on, lifting his hand up to tousle her hair. “Even skinny little birds.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @novemberrain221 @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfangirl @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

#ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) x oc #ezra (prospect) x oc clara #cee (prospect)#ezra (prospect) fic #ezra x clara #point of no return #PoNR #writing prompt #ezra prospect fanfiction #prospect fic #pedro pascal character #pedrostories

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iwritetopassthetime · 2 years

Text

home to you (1/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

PROLOGUE // Masterlist // Next chapter

Wordcount: 3.8K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: some Bradley and Amelia brother/sister fluff, mentions of terminal illness, mentions of death, mentions of grief, Bradley has a lot of feelings, themes of abuse/domestic violence

Song inspiration: Home to you by Sigrid

When you're waitin' for a voice to come

In the night, but there's no one

A-don't you feel like a-cryin'?

Don't you feel like cryin'?

A-don't you feel like a-c-cry, c-cry, c-cry-cry

Cry, c-cry, c-cry-cry, cryin’?

Bradley bobbed his head like the bird he was nicknamed after as he belted the last lines to Cry to Me. He had wanted to test the new sound system in the Bronco on his way from base to Penny’s… and possibly annoy every 16-something brat blaring DJ Khaled in their dad’s BMW M5. So far he’d passed at least three of those types. The satisfaction he got from the boys’ annoyed, little pimply faces was the reason he decided to keep the hood down even though it was a surprisingly cool evening for mid-May.

Despite the chill in the air, it was still a pleasant enough evening. The sky was awash with dark pinks that transformed into purple and navy blue the further up you turned your gaze. A thin line of light lingered on the horizon where the sun had dipped over minutes ago, making this the perfect time for a walk, a drive, and especially for a barbecue in Penny’s backyard.

Her and Maverick had made that a weekly occurrence since the mission, inviting Bradley over since he was stationed on North Island for the time being along with the rest of his new squadron. They would sit on the old picnic table in Penny’s backyard with burgers, and grilled veggies, and cold beers that she’d picked up from the Hard Deck after closing for the night. And Bradley would usually bring a starter or a side dish. The bowl of potato salad that he’d pledged for tonight was wrapped in cling film on the passenger seat.

The beginning notes to Boogie Wonderland were suddenly interrupted by Bradley’s phone ringing in its dashboard holder. The obnoxious ringtone that Amelia had picked — and Bradley couldn’t change — mixed with the disco anthem in a horrific remix; thank god for the red light ahead so Bradley could stop and pause the music to take the call.

Maverick’s name was above a picture of him giving the camera thumbs up from the cockpit of his P-51 Mustang. The edge of Penny’s helmeted head poked from the edge of the screen. It was a picture that Bradley himself had taken after he and his godfather finished putting it together before Maverick’s test-flight-slash-joy-ride with Penny.

‘Hey, Mav!’ Bradley called after pressing the answer button and putting the call to speaker. ‘I’m on my way now. Is there anything else you guys need?’

‘Rooster, uh…’ Maverick’s voice sounded uncharacteristically unsure as he began and it gave Bradley pause. He immediately clicked the indicator for a right turn, opting to take a shortcut through Penny’s neighbourhood instead of going the usual way. If this was an emergency, he had to get to the house ASAP.

‘What’s happened?’ He asked worriedly.

‘Penny and I have to go to Los Angeles. It’s urgent.’

‘Is Penny okay?’

‘Yeah— no, she’s fine. It’s uh… it’s something else. Bradley, can you come and stay with Amelia for the night. I don’t know how long we’ll be and…’

‘You got it, Mav.’ Bradley stepped on the pedal as soon as the light switched to yellow. Whatever the situation was it merited some degree of alarm. He tried elevating some of the tension. ‘You know Amelia is not the type to need a babysitter?’

Maverick huffed, ‘Yeah, yeah. She told us as much. But she likes having you around and you two can catch up on whichever TV show you’ve been watching lately.’

‘That’ll be Friends. We’ll just have to finish the potato salad on our own, too I guess.’

There was a pause on Maverick’s side of the line as they supposedly got in the car and started speeding away from the house. Bradley heard him muttering something to Penny. Her voice — although Bradley couldn’t detect what she was saying — sounded high-pitched and worried. It struck him as extremely odd how the usually chipper and confident owner of the Hard Deck sounded on edge, even downright panicked.

‘Penny and I are sorry for having to skip on tonight. It’s just that—’

‘Mav, there’s no need to explain,’ Bradley stopped him. ‘We’ll postpone to next week or whenever you guys are available. Whatever this is… comes first. Alright?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Bradley heard the door slam on the other end and figured they must already be leaving the driveway. ‘I’ll drop you a line when we get to Los Angeles.’

‘Thanks! I’ll take Ames for pancakes tomorrow morning, is that alright with you and Pen?’

Maverick seemed to pull the phone back so he could relay the question. Bradley heard Penny give an affirmative reply although her voice still sounded emotionally distant. ‘Yeah, she’s cool with that. Just nothing with nuts, unless you have her EpiPen at the ready.’

‘Got it! I’m nearing Pen’s driveway now, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah… see ya, Rooster.’

Maverick was the first to hang up and the silence lingered for a few moments before Bradley turned into Penny’s driveway, his headlights illuminating Amelia’s figure huddled on the front porch. He grabbed the bowl of potato salad from the passenger seat before getting out, then jogged up the pebbled walkway and the short flight of stairs to get to the teen.

‘Hey, Ames! Looks like I’ll be your babysitter for the night.’ Bradley tackled her in a bear hug, one arm squeezing her to him and the other keeping a steady hold on the ceramic bowl.

With her free hand Amelia pointed a finger to her mouth and feigned gagging at that which ultimately made both of them laugh. Bradley released her and handed her the potato salad. Amelia grinned wider and licked her lips like a cartoon wolf when she greedily grabbed the bowl.

‘Pop that in the fridge, squirt!’

‘Nuh-uh!’ She cradled the bowl. ‘We’re sharing this while we finish season four. I want to know if Rachel gets to Ross’s wedding on time.’

Bradley chuckled; he knew he really shouldn’t be spoiling anything, especially not about those last two episodes in particular, but half the time it was just too hard. Part of the magic of introducing Amelia to Friends was enjoying her unadulterated first-watch reactions to the classic sitcom. And it also meant that she’d understand some of the pop culture references he made on a daily basis.

Bradley shut the door behind him and followed Amelia into the house. He toed off his Timbs and placed them neatly on the shoe rack. He made his way into the kitchen where Amelia was fishing in the utensil cupboard for a pair of forks.

‘Hey, Ames?’

‘Yeah?’ She said between two big mouthfuls of potato salad.

‘Do you know why Mav and Penny are driving up to LA.’ He was quick to add, ‘It’s alright if it’s a personal matter and they told you not to tell me.’ He leaned against the granite island and bit the inside of his cheek. ‘I just wanna know if it’s something serious.’

Amelia nodded, swallowing down before speaking. ‘Yeah, they didn’t tell me much either.’ She pursed her lips in deep thought as she took a seat on one of the nautical style stools across from Bradley. ‘Mom got a call when Maverick and I finished cooking the burgers— Oh! By the way, there are burgers in the fridge, if ya want any!’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, Ames.’

‘Right so… mom got really serious all of a sudden. She sounded… really worried, and her voice got all high and pitchy which I’ve heard only once and that was when I got a severe allergic reaction. She told Maverick that she needed to get to Los Angeles as soon as possible. Something about the daughter of a friend of hers being in trouble.’

Bradley nodded along to her retelling of the events. He then gave the teen an uplifting smile. ‘Well, let’s hope it’s nothing serious. How ‘bout we put on the show now before you get a food coma and pass out on the couch like last time.’

‘Hardy har har!’ Amelia jumped down from the stool and snatched the bowl from the countertop before Bradley could take it. ‘This is mine now, jerk face.’

‘Hey! I made it, so it’s at least fifty percent mine, smartass!’

In the end, the two spread out in two opposite directions on the couch with the potato salad placed between them. Their forks were moving in a repetitive motion from the inside of the bowl to their open mouths as the two watched Friends.

It was Amelia’s newest favourite TV series, Bradley had grown up it with it. He had binged it with his mum when he was little and then again around the time when she got really sick and he wanted to lift her spirits.

It always felt bitter-sweet watching it after Carole’s death, being reminded of those moments he wished he could relive with her. Now, it meant spending time with Amelia, forming new memories, something he found he enjoyed since his stationing on North Island and his unofficial inclusion into this family.

It had been a mere month since the mission, since his and Maverick’s reconciliation, since Maverick and Penny’s decision to give their twenty-something year long on-and-off relationship another go. And in that time, seemingly so much had happened. The weekly barbecue, evenings at the Hard Deck, weekends at the beach. Amongst all those interactions, Bradley and Amelia struck up a friendship that quickly developed into something akin to an older brother-younger sister relationship.

Amelia was happy to have someone around when her mum was out of the house “relighting the fire with her old flame”. Someone who was willing to get on her level without patronising her. And Bradley, who had spent his entire life without any siblings or cousins, was happy to have something of a little sister in Amelia.

Some time after finishing the season finale and moving onto the next season, Amelia checked her phone to find a general lack of messages of any sort from her mum. ‘You’d think they reached LA by now.’

Bradley patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about that now. They could be stuck in traffic. Mav will text me when they reach your mom’s friend.’

‘I’m not being unreasonable in being worried, right?’

‘Of course not, Ames!’

‘And you’re sure Maverick will text you.’

‘He definitely will.’

‘Okay,’ Amelia switched her positioning, grabbing a cushion and placing it against Bradley to use it and him as a head rest. ‘It’s just… I don’t like seeing mom worried. I’m used to her being the cool-headed woman she always is, the one that my friends at school are jealous of. And I can’t help her.’

‘Amelia, you’re fourteen.’ Bradley softly reminded her. ‘You should remember that from time to time. I know you’d rather grow up fast and help you mom. Even boss her around.’

Amelia laughed at that.

‘But I know from experience that trying to grow up too quickly will worry your mom more. She’ll want you to stay her child for a while longer and take care of you. So enjoy it, you’ll have all the time in the world to take care of her later.’

‘Just have to wait till eighteen, I guess.’

Bradley laughed good-naturedly, he knew there was no point arguing further if Amelia had reached a conclusion. He’d do better to argue with a brick wall.

Sometime around the middle of the fifth season of the show, Amelia had fallen asleep — just as Bradley had predicted — with a belly full of potato salad and her arm loosely wrapped around the now empty bowl.

Bradley made sure she wouldn’t startle if he moved it out of her grasp to put away. Once he had the sofa cleared and the TV turned off, he carefully sneaked his arms underneath Amelia’s huddled form — one under her back and the other under the backs of her knees — and picked her up.

He carried the teen to her room, gently kicking the door to open it. He put Amelia down on the bed, making sure to tuck her in with the massive fluffy blanket she had laying at the foot, seeing as he couldn’t pull the duvet without eventually disturbing her.

Once he’d made sure she’d be fine, Bradley left the bedroom, his retreat only followed by the soft click of the door closing behind him. He went back to the kitchen, intending to clean the salad bowl when his phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans. Bradley fished it out and saw that he had two messages from Maverick.

Mav: Sorry, I forgot to text when we arrived.

Mav: Everything’s okay, we might not be back till the morning.

Bradley opened his phone to see the grey ellipsis at the bottom of their chat. He waited a few seconds when a third message appeared.

Mav: We gotta take Penny’s friend’s daughter to the hospital and then to the police.

Mav: Don’t worry. I’ll explain more tomorrow.

Bradley’s brows furrowed at the last two messages. It obviously wasn’t all okay like Maverick said, otherwise they wouldn’t have to take that friend’s daughter to the hospital and the police. He contemplated phoning Maverick out of worry, but resined himself to just wait until the morning for him and Penny to come back.

If things were as serious as he believed them to be then calling Maverick to just pester him with questions like a worried mother hen wouldn’t be helpful at all.

Instead Bradley replied with a few short lines, letting his godfather know that he understood and to let Penny know that Amelia went asleep alright after finishing half a bowl of potato salad. After few seconds Maverick responded with a laughing face sticker which effectively seemed to end their correspondence for the night.

Bradley went back to washing the salad bowl, leaving it on the drying rack when he was done. He then grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked out onto the back porch to enjoy the peace and quiet of the neighbourhood.

Just beyond the relatively short back fence, Bradley could watch the dark expanse of the ocean the waves of which lapped at the shore with a repetitive hum. The nature choir of cicadas, crickets and the early summer breeze prevailed over the distant noise of the city beyond the confines of this fairly peaceful corner of San Diego.

Penny’s backyard wasn’t much to be fair, she’d even said it herself once two weeks ago during the barbecue. The grass was uneven and displayed the usual signs of being burnt by the near constant California sun. Off to the side there were flat stones organised into flower patch borders without any flowers behind them save for one overgrown rosemary bush near the back stairs. And the picnic table sat close to the porch. Penny said that she just never came around to hiring someone to give it some major TLC. But goddamn — the view was what made that backyard so special.

Bradley continued staring off into the distance, periodically bringing the bottle to his lips to sip on the bitter drink. For a moment he felt the acute sting of loneliness deep in his chest as even the insects chirps dulled down and silence overtook him. The sting planted roots in his chest and started to grow until it pretty much occupied his thoughts.

He had something resembling a family which included his friends from the squadron — even Hangman, on very good days — but he couldn’t help but feel the want for something more, for someone.

It’s not like it’d be hard for him to date, there were plenty of women in the area if his former Hinge profile was to be believed. But he didn’t wasn’t a meaningless fling or a one-night stand. He wanted someone to have, to care for. Someone to love. For god’s sake, he was thirty-six! Shouldn’t these things get easier with time? Mav and Penny certainly had no problem.

Bradley thought about his mother at thirty-six, just a year shy of her terminal diagnosis. She never even reached forty. Hadn’t gotten whites in her hair, nor wrinkles and age spots. Hadn’t gotten to properly live her life since she became a single mother at twenty-five.

But she’d had someone, she had Nick “Goose” Bradshaw and she still had him after his death if her stories were to be believed. Stories she told Bradley when he was younger about how she could still feel him with her. That he never truly left her.

As he grew older, Rooster began to understand that those were her ways of explaining it all to him and handling her grief which never left her either. Instead it lingered like a pestering relative that hadn’t got the cue to leave. And once Carole was gone and buried with Goose in their family plot, that same grief latched onto Bradley, too.

And in those moments when he felt well and truly alone, Bradley wished he had asked his mother more about how she pulled through it all. How she managed to lose someone so important to her and still carry on with living.

Around the time of her death, Bradley was filled with so much rage and confusion. Maverick pulling his papers at the Academy only seemed to fuel that rage. Bradley sped through his twenties, never really having a proper relationship, never settling down like many of his colleagues. He knew of love, he loved his mother and he sure as hell loved his friends. But he never found someone to love in that very particular way that doesn’t compare to any other love.

Carole had once promised him that; that he would find someone that would make him as happy as Goose made her. Don’t you worry your little head about when and where, it will happen and that’s a fact, she’d softly told him once when he’d childishly pestered her about not having a girlfriend in pre-school.

But at thirty-six, Bradley still hadn’t found that person, that love that did not compare to others. You could call it impatience, but what truly plagued him was the loneliness. The emptiness he felt after every mission and deployment when he had no one to come back and hold on to.

With a familiar heaviness in his chest, Bradley went to have another sip of the beer only to feel a single drop trickle down the neck of the bottle and onto his lips. He took one final look at the peaceful landscape before going back inside, leaving his self-deprecating train of thought on the steps to the backyard.

Bradley, being not that deep of a sleeper, was shaken awake by the sound of Penny’s jeep pulling up to the house. He instantly sat up on the couch, rubbing his face and the sleep from his eyes. There was a knot in his back from the uncomfortable position he slept in, but he was unwilling to let that bother him right now. Although he lamented that he hadn’t taken the bed in the guest bedroom instead.

It was early in the morning. Not so early as to be still dark outside, but early enough to feel like he was back at the Academy and was rising at first light for training.

The front door opened with a subtle click and creak. Bradley could hear Penny saying something to Maverick, then to someone else and he assumed that they were accompanied by whoever they’d gone to help in LA. He impatiently treaded over the living room carpet, before deciding to go into the kitchen and make coffee for everybody. Penny and Maverick had had a long night and a pick-me-up would do them good.

Bradley was about to put in the coffee pot in Penny’s coffee maker when Maverick walked in the kitchen, his feet dragging along the floor until he reached the island and dropped into a barstool.

‘Did we wake you?’ Maverick asked tiredly.

Bradley turned around once the machine started buzzing and a steady stream of coffee started dripping into the pot. ‘Don’t worry ‘bout me. I was practically already awake. You good?’

Maverick rubbed his face and Bradley took notice of the haunted look in his godfather’s eyes. They were dark and troubled like they’d seen more in one night than they were prepared to. Bradley turned off the coffee machine once it was done and pulled the three cups from the cupboard above his head, placing them on the counter and pouring equal amounts into each one.

Maverick didn’t wait for Bradley to offer him milk or sugar and downed half of the steaming coffee. Really not good then, Bradley thought with worry. He went around the kitchen island and sat next to his godfather, quietly sipping on his own coffee and waiting for him to speak whenever he was ready to.

‘I don’t think I can talk in detail about last night right now, but I… I need to ask you a favour.’

‘Shoot.’

Maverick looked towards the door to the corridor, probably waiting to see if Penny would walk through. But she was most likely still upstairs.

‘Penny’s friend’s daughter… we brought her here, couldn’t leave her in LA. She has no one,’ Maverick explained.

Bradley nodded along.

‘The favour I want to ask from you is… well, I might be asking too much of you. Can you hang around the house for a few days? Penny and I think she could use a friend right now and you’re… about the same age. You might be able to help her more than we do.’

Bradley simply nodded. He couldn’t think of anything to ask but her name which Maverick quietly supplied.

The older man continued drinking his coffee and the two sat in silence for a while.

‘It’s not my place to talk about her affairs.’ Maverick broke the silence. ‘But she was in a… very physical argument with her ex-boyfriend. Managed to get away at some point and call Penny. She was so frightened, she didn’t even want to go to the police. Penny and I didn’t know what to do,’ he mumbled more to himself than to anyone else, eyes still horribly lost.

Bradley inhaled sharply. Although he knew nothing more than the girl’s name, he felt a twinge of anger at the thought of any sort of abuse befalling her. Someone might say his mum raised him properly, Bradley would argue that he was just a decent human being.

‘I’ll do my best, Mav.’

Maverick finally looked up towards Bradley, his upper lip curling in a semblance of a smile and some of the light returned to his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he patted his godson on the shoulder, thanking him for his help. The two then returned to their state of quiet while sipping on their coffee.

Next chapter

(Taglist is open and I've made a Google Docs form to make it easier)

tags: ...

#home to you #iwritetopassthetime #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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the-bar-sinister · 1 month

Text

The Mechanics of Emotion (30199 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

Athena Cykes has a problem. For years, she built her life around rescuing the man who had saved her, Simon Blackquill. She'd been imagining a fairytale ending. A kiss. A ride into the sunset. But real life isn't as simple as a dream. Athena got her kiss, but there was no ending– there was a complication. Bobby Fulbright was suddenly back in Simon's life in an unexpected twist of fate, and it turned out that he and Simon had been together for a whole year.

Not to mention that there are two more members of the Phantom Organization who've been captured that Simon now needs to prosecute, and Athena must defend. Love and chaos in LA. In justice we trust– but who understands the mechanics of emotion?

December 27, 2:35 pm

They did, in fact eventually decide on where to get lunch, despite the revelation that Halblicht had already eaten. Over bowls of Eldoon's noodles they chatted about interior decorating, the challenge of finding a place to live, and generally light matters.

After lunch, they'd split up, with Simon heading to the prosecutor's office, and Athena who had to go to the police precinct to start preparing for "asset 24"s case. Halblicht had happily accompanied her, and now she found herself in the passenger seat of his rented car.

“You know…another benefit of living together’s this.” Athena chuckled. “I can hitch rides with you guys instead of running everywhere and missing buses.”

She leaned partially against the door, watching the city roll by with a chuckle. The noodles had hit the spot, and the nerves of the morning had all but seemed to dissipate.

"Ahh, you don't drive, do you, Miss Athena?" Bobby asked, cocking his head. "I'll be happy to drive you anywhere you need, as long as I'm not on duty–"

"--and maybe sometimes if I'm on duty anyway," Robert cut in slyly.

She glanced over at him with a sly grin.

“You guys have always been pretty helpful~. I won’t be afraid to hitch a ride, on duty or no, Mr. Halblicht” she winked playfully “I never got my driver’s license, given the whole ‘living in Europe’ thing.”

"They do have a very good public transit system there. LA seems to try its best," Halblicht chuckled. Bobby mused after a moment "I could teach you to drive if you wanted!"

Athena shifted to look at him more fully with a grin.

“Woah, you would? I mean…on one hand It’d mean I couldn’t beg you for a ride as often, on the other…I guess I’ve always been kinda curious…and it’s not like I had anyone willing to teach me before.”

"No one? That's a shame, Miss Athena! Consider the offer open. And if you do learn and you still want me to drive you, I don't mind playing chauffeur."

Athena leaned on the center console.

“Hmmm…Sorry , I’m just trying to imagine you in the cap.” She chuckled into her hand “and sadly not…I mean. My father’s parents…my grandparents I guess– they were pretty old and didn’t seem keen on giving lessons, and I was too busy anyway to do anything but cram and study.”

They seemed to notice Athena leaning toward them, and she felt a flutter of curiosity from Bobby, but it was Robert who replied.

"Actually, I happen to have a full chauffeur's uniform among my possessions. Though, that may be classified as evidence now." He smirked, dryly. "But I see, busy busy busy in europe. And as I understand it Mr. Wright doesn't drive either."

Athena whistled, the curiosity fluttering in echo through her “...wait , for real? Why? Did…did you actually chauffeur on a job?”

She nodded her head , still leaning on that midpoint between them “yeah, Mr. Wright doesn’t drive, and the one time I asked him he got all cagey about it and went into a long winded story about the time he was hit by a car and hit a telephone pole.”

They shook their head in response. "Mr. Wright's a bit ridiculous. As for chauffeuring, that's one role I've actually played more than once. It does make it easy to get close to someone, and to get them alone."

“Easy to dispose of crime scene too, if you’re careful.” she put her fingers to her chin “honestly it makes sense! I just thought the uniforms were only used in like…old movies.”

She chuckled “Mr. Wright’s …a lot. But he’s my boss so..you know.”

"No, the uniforms are still very much in use. I suppose you've never had occasion to have an official chauffeur. Me either." Another dry smirk from Robert, and he glanced her way curiously.

“We could trade the uniform back and forth if I got my license, I suppose. We can pretend to be living the high life.” She looked up at him with her bright grin “you don’t mind me leaning here, do you?”

"There's hardly anything I mind, Athena," Robert remarked, glancing at her again. "But it does remind me of a question I meant to ask."

Athena pointed to him with two fingers. “Shoot, Robert…I’ll answer as best I can.”

"I still don't have my gun back," he said, shaking his head. Clearly a joke, despite the lack of palpable feeling from him. "But my question. You mentioned the night we shared a bed with Simon. Was that a persuasion tactic, or a flirtation?"

“Too bad.” she laughed “maybe the police department’ll give it back later. You could teach me to shoot, too.”

She joked partially to delay her answer, feeling the slightest burn of heat on her face as she formulated an answer.

“As for your question.I did promise to answer…” she rubbed her neck with a shy grin. “I mean…I suppose I meant it as a flirtation…and as a way to show you that I was pretty open to the idea..”

"To the idea of both of us having a relationship with Simon?"

Athena ducked her head with a shy laugh.

“I mean, I was okay with that basically since the start. Simon deserves all the love in the world. But well, we’ll be in pretty close proximity– and we’ve had some moments where we’ve bonded over a lot..”

"A flirtation towards us then. Interesting." Robert smirked. "Bobby suggested that it might be, but I hesitated to believe it."

Athena tucked her hair over her ear with a nod. “Yeah, a flirtation towards you guys….you hesitated huh?”

"My guess is that most people in your position would be hesitant to extend a flirtation in my direction." He rested his hand on the center console near where she was leaning. "Though I've already observed that you're not like most people."

Athena laughed softly.

“most people would think i was crazy for even thinking about it…” she shifted, and her hand brushed his “I’m..not like most people. Like I’ve told you back in Cauli, I was born a bit different…I don’t think the same way as others. And despite everything, I enjoy your company.”

"For the best, since it seems like you'll be getting a lot of it after all." The warm leather of his gloved hand brushed hers in return and then rested atop it. It was the same hand, she realized suddenly, that bore a scar of her making.

The same hand she remembered from her visceral half-memory that had risen up during the trial. In a way, it was a sign of the history they all shared, twisted and tumultuous as it was.

Her thumb rubbed against the leather of the side of his hand as it rested atop hers, as she nodded “and you mine, so I hope you don’t mind too much.” she winked.

“We’re gonna be roomies…promise, I don’t snore. Just don’t ask Junie.”

"I don't have to ask though. After all, we've already shared a bed, as you mentioned."

He pulled the car into the police precinct, and backed smoothly into a parking space.

Athena’s eyes widened.

“...I don’t snore, do I?” she asked in a hushed voice, leaning over to put her other hand atop his gloved fingers.

"No, Athena, you don't snore," Robert assured her. But suddenly his expression changed and Bobby looked at her with a wide eyed expression. "Wait a minute– do I snore? I used to snore, but Robert doesn't…"

Athena lifted her hand off his to wave a little ‘50/50’ motion. “Eehhhhh, a little bit, detective.”

"Oh that's weird!!" He slapped the steering wheel and accidentally beeped the horn, jolting in response to the sudden noise.

“Yeep!” Athena jolted too as her fingers tightened on his hand for a moment.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean…maybe your giving Robert some of your bad habits?” she teased. “I mean…nothing wrong with that, it adds character!”

Bobby smoothed back his hair, laughing off their mutual startlement. "Well, if you insist that it does, Ms. Athena. And I suppose Robert could use a few non-illegal bad habits, eh?"

“I was just thinking the same thing.” She tapped her nose “maybe I can pass over some of mine, too. You know…as a welcoming gift into our new arrangement.”

"You have bad habits, Ms. Athena?" he asked playfully, grinning widely at her. She could feel his puppyish warmth and affection wash over her, almost completely overwhelming the background ping of his slight anxiety.

Athena flushed. It was a lot of emotion– good emotions, the sort that were easy to accept and allow to reverberate through her internal matrix, easing her own.

“One or two.” she stretched her legs out. “...I mean, I may have a slight addiction to going out to eat. I also wake up real early to go on runs most days.”

Of course there was my notorious bad habit that got put on public display during the Themis trial. But that isn’t something to mention out loud right now.

"Ah, I hate to break this to you, Ms. Athena but I don't think getting up early and going on runs counts as a bad habit! If anything it's a very good one!" he grinned broadly and openly at her, but the way he held his head, she could tell there was something else on his mind.

“Gosh, maybe I’m some kind of modern saint then! or maybe you haven’t gotten the pleasure of seeing my worst habits yet!” She looked up at him with a tilt of her head “...you alright? You look thoughtful.”

"Ah, well!!" He put his hand behind his head embarrassedly, and she realized as he did that it was the first time their hand had left hers. "Maybe just a minor thing on my mind! Can't fool you, Ms. Athena!"

“Maybe that’s one of my bad habits.” she chuckled with a sheepish grin, holding her hands up. “I’m not easy to hide things from, and I can’t help but ask when I notice something…can I ask?”

"Well– it's silly! I'm being told it's silly," He grinned embarrassedly and waved his hand. "But I was wondering, you know…. um, just Robert?.... Or me too?"

Athena blinked, and she turned a deep pink .

“Oh!!” She began brushing her fingers through her hair, through her long ponytail with a lopsided and flustered smile and laughed quietly. “Yeah! Obviously you too, Bobby! I mean…I know you were in there that whole year investigating…I was always over the moon when I saw you at a scene! We had fun, ongoing jokes…you were charming. And then in Cauli….”

Bobby's smile lit up, and the wash of puppydog warmth rolled over Athena all over again.

"Really? That's honestly really nice to hear, Ms Athena…" He poked his fingers together with nervous pleasure. "I'm glad you liked seeing me at the scene!"

Athena grinned “I mean…of course I did! That whole ‘oh poor damsel, if only someone on the side of justice would help me’ back and forth was more than just me fishing for evidence you know! You’re cute and I was having fun! It was kinda flirting from the start!”

Bobby laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You were! I had wondered at the time, but you know it didn't seem like the right time to follow up on that, given the circumstances."

“Given the circumstances.” she chuckled before leaning on her hands on the center console “but I absolutely was…and circumstances have changed…”

He rested his hand next to hers again, leaning toward her a bit. "I'd say they've changed considerably!"

This time, it was her hand that went atop his as she looked up to meet his eyes with a half smile

“Only took one crazy week, packed to the gills with weirdness, too.” She bit her lip, feeling a ping of shy, almost timid joy thrumming in her heart “honestly, I’m overjoyed in a way.”

"You are?" he cocked his head, leaning quite close now. She could feel Bobby's curious excitement in every subtle motion and twitch of his expression– not that either were ever subtle with him.

She nodded, and for a moment her nose brushed the tip of his.

“...I can feel you’re pretty excited too. So I know it’s not just me…” With a slight glimmer of mischief, her eyes met his.

Bobby, always neatly dressed and classy in his handsome suit, looked flustered beyond belief. He grinned embarrassedly as their eyes met.

"Can we kiss you, Ms. Athena?"

She answered his grin with a mirror of it,

“I was just about to ask you the same thing…” Leaning forward with a close of her eyes, she nodded “I’d be overjoyed, Mr. Halblicht.”

They leaned in and closed the small distance between them, and her. Their lips brushed hers, lightly at first but with intention. They cupped a gloved hand on her jaw, and she could smell the wafting scent of their cologne.

It was a nice cologne, the scent pleasantly filling her senses along with the feeling of his lips against hers, slightly tacky with gloss.

She leaned into his touch, lips parted slightly as she accepted the kiss with eager anticipation.

It was an expert kiss, eager, but not overzealous, their lips tugging at hers for a moment, before she felt their tongue press to slip between her teeth. Their fingers slid gingerly down her jaw and over her neck, sending a thrill of sensation through her.

She was no expert, but she matched them all the same with an eagerness and warmth. Her skin prickled in the wake of their fingers, the sensation of the leather lingering against her jaw even as his hand trailed downwards. A flush traveled in its wake as her face heated against his.

Her tongue brushed his, and her lips sucked softly against his own. Her hand, with only a little hesitance, rested upon his chest, against the breast pocket.

His lips lingered on hers for a long moment even as he pulled away, as if for a moment he considered pulling her with him. Then the kiss broke, and they were left leaning on one another in the wake and glow of it.

Halblicht smiled.

Athena smiled back, her breath a little heavy as she caught it, and her head tilting to rest against his shoulder.

“Wow. You know. I can see why Simon gave you guys such rave reviews in the kissing department.” she giggled quietly, before she flushed deeper “...that was a really nice first kiss…thanks guys.”

He pushed up his glasses which had slid down his nose.

"Rave reviews, hmm? Well, that's good." They smiled rather amusedly, and then it widened into a bashful grin from Bobby. "Definitely a really nice kiss, Ms. Athena."

His hand lingered on the curve of her neck.

It felt nice, she found herself gently shifting to feel the trace of his leather gloves against the skin.

“Maybe the first of many, if I’m lucky?” she asked with a sheepish grin.

He stroked his fingers up her neck and over her jaw again, as if noticing her movement.

"Count on it, Athena," Robert murmured. "But for the moment, I'm afraid we've got business to attend to."

She tilted back into his hand with an amused wink.

“yeah… I probably shouldn’t let you guys distract me toooo much from preparing my defense.” Sitting up, she pointed her finger “distraction tactics can only go so far!”

He gasped and threw up his hands. "Caught!"

December 27, 1:55 pm

After filing the paperwork at the precinct, they got instructions on where the building was that Interpol was holding Kelso, and headed off to it. This time, as they drove, Bobby casually held his arm around Athena's shoulders. It was nice. She’d been so unsure of how this would work when Simon and her had discussed it, and even when they’d brought the idea to Bobby…

But she couldn’t help but feel warm and comfortable under his arm, the casual intimacy giving her a pleasant and happy little thrill. She had, quietly and surprising even herself, been growing ever fonder of Bobby and Robert during their time in Cauli. Now here they were, sitting so close as they winded down the road towards the holding facility.

The building they arrived at was by all external appearances an extremely mundane office park down a long driveway, with tall hedges and dark, mirrored windows. There was a somewhat menacing man in a long coat waiting outside for them whom Athena didn't recognize, but Bobby immediately saluted him as they approached.

"Agent Badd, sir!"

Athena saluted as well, blinking at him “Agent…Badd?” Surely it had to be a nickname, right?”

However, the man simply nodded. "Halblicht. Fancy seeing you here and without your leash. And this must be…"

"This is Ms. Athena Cykes, defense attorney and psychologist, sir."

"Ah," Badd snickered. "Second leash then. Nice to meet you, Ms. Cykes– I'm Agent Tyrell Badd,"

The big, grizzled man offered her a handshake.

Athena shook his hand with a big grin.

“Nice to meet you Agent Badd! I guess you could call me the second leash, if you want.” She flushed, and ducked her head “I see you’re aware of the situation!”

"Agent Badd and I spoke while I was in the hospital," Robert explained with a restrained smile. "He had a few words of wisdom to share, which have been taken to heart."

"Glad to hear it," Badd grunted, smirking. "So you two are here to see Kelso, right? I haven't got clearance to let anybody talk to Lovelace yet."

Halblicht moved to stand very slightly closer to Athena, and she felt a subtle ping of discomfort from his direction– from Robert. From anyone else it would have been nothing, but from him, it was like a rocket of anxiety going off.

Athena looped her arm around his, and let her hand find his own to squeeze. “We’re not here to talk to Lovelace, luckily then! We’d like to talk to miss Kelso.”

As Robert's gloved hand squeezed hers, she felt Badd's curiosity as his eyes lingered on them. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his lips curled up, and Athena could feel his amusement.

"Perfect then, come on with me."

He waved them forward, and headed to the dark glass doors.

Athena hurried along to follow, gently tugging Robert behind her as she turned a deeper pink, feeling the amusement turn to her own embarrassment inside her.

Inside the glass doors was a large, very normal looking office lobby with a waiting area and potted plants, and a reception desk with a blond woman behind it filing her nails.

"Adrian's going to want you to sign in, even though you're with me," Badd chuckled.

And so Athena and Bobby had signed their names on the check in sheet, before Agent Badd led them over to an elevator that was activated with a hand print.

"Tight security," Halblicht commented. Athena notices his eyes flick to an alarm set high in the wall, and a strange square line dug into the space nearby.

“I’m guessing they don’t want to risk anyone making a mistake– or getting in to ah, finish any jobs.” Athena mused as she squeezed his hand. “How’s miss Kelso holding up, Agent?”

"Pretty well, all things considering," Badd nodded. As the elevator descended, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of lollipops, offering one to Halblicht, who waved it graciously away, and one to Athena. "I've been spending a fair amount of time with her."

It had been two days since they'd seen her in Cauli, exactly the amount of time that all of them….Kelso included, confirmed that the Agent Kelso who’d died lingered on in the body…sharing space even, with the asset known only as 24.

Athena took the lollipop with a smile and popped it in her mouth.

“You have been? Good…it’s not a great time for them to be alone.”

"Yeah, I'll agree with you on that much." Badd nodded as the elevator opened on a long, well let hallway. "I take it you're here to talk about her trial?"

“Uh huh…I’m her defense attorney, after all.” Athena smiled. “I’m hoping we can come up with some kinda bargain to get her out sooner rather than later.”

"And we need her cooperation for it," Halblicht nodded with a grin. "Can't just run roughshod over your client, right Ms. Cykes?"

“I absolutely wouldn’t allow it, Detective Halblicht!” Athena playfully nudged him. “I’d be furious”

Halblicht laughed and nudged her back. "And you're terrifying when you're angry."

Badd grunted, satisfied with the answer, and led them to another check in area. No one was manning this one– it appeared to be automated, as he swiped his hand through.

"Alright. I'm letting you two in."

December 27, 2:20 pm

The holding cell that they entered was nicer than the one in Cauli. Cleaner, and more modern. When they entered, Athena found Kelso quietly turning a photograph over in her hands with a pensive frown.

She didn’t visibly react to them entering…but Athena felt the mingled and strange stings of quiet caution and eager curiosity well up within her.

“Good morning, Miss.” Athena chirped.

Halblicht lingered behind her like a faithful dog, and saluted as Athena greeted her client.

Kelso jolted, and turned to face them with a tired smile. Her dark hair had fallen around her face, a straight curtain as she gave a two fingered salute. “Morning, Miss Cykes…Halblicht.”

It must have been the agent speaking , it carried her usual lazy and bemused affect, with the pings of emotion to back it up.

Athena sat by the bedside in one of the small chairs provided, and gave her a smile “I heard Agent Badd was keeping you company…I’m glad to hear it, honestly…he seems like a good man.”

"He came to see me while I was convalescing too," Halblicht said. He remained standing by Athena's chair. "A pleasant man to speak with– though I didn't have the pleasure of his company long."

Kelso’s expression smoothed somewhat as she murmured. “He seems strangely worried about us. But Sam Wan says that’s normal. She’s been training under him and Agent Ash since she joined up a little while back. She says she looks up to them a lot.”

"Paternal, is I believe the word to describe him," Robert shrugged.

“Paternal.” she blinked slowly “yeah, that sounds about right.”

'He has a certain fatherly charm, it’s true.” Athena chuckled and put her hand to her chin in thought. “Either way, he really seems to be worried about you. But– I’m your defense attorney. So I’m here to make sure there’s nothing he needs to worry about, yeah? You already gave us all kinds of information, I’m certain I can get you declared not guilty– or at the very least, get you a deal like Mr. Halblicht’s!”

Halblicht nodded. "What we need is your agreement to representation, and that you'll accept whatever deal that Ms. Cykes can obtain for you."

“I don’t have much of a choice.” she said slowly “and…”

Sam Wan Kelso must have muscled her way back to the surface from the sudden pings of emotion “Absolutely. 100% , whatever ya need, ma’am. Whatever deal you can get is better than a cell. We’re serious when we say we aren’t going to waste her second chance.”

#cykesquill #phantomquill #blackbright #cykesbright #phantomcykes #phantomcykesquillbright #athena cykes #simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #ace attorney #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #poly ship #archive of our own #fic: the mechanics of emotion #the new age of the law universe

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2ndblackswordsman · 2 years

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My first hero moment on The Lucky Day of March. I was on my way to Holyoke after leaving Best Fitness in the morning, which was a fitness center or in terms a gym, for the annual Holyoke Parade since I am free for a little bit of Sunday before going to the Saint Latter's Day Church in Ludlow. But that's when during a bus stop at the X Plaza, three women were yelling from the outside from the bus entrance. The passengers were very confused not knowing what's happening from the back of the bus. That's when two women coming inside the bus, were yelling at the third girl to stay out of the bus warning her she is too drunk. The bus driver Mr. Espada gave her a choice to close the alcohol bottle for a ride or stay out of the bus and head home. Option one wasn't an option since she never had a cap. Instead she drank the whole bottle and threw it away making a giant shatter on the sidewalk. During the ride only almost a mile with a few blocks, she assaulted one of the women, I realized she made a blind drunken mistake. When she was about to go again, I without thinking detained her as the bus stopped near Forest Park Middle School to the second bus stop. I detained her by strapping her waist like a seat belt. She begged me to let her go. I told the front passengers to head to back seats. They moved back. She kept trying to free herself but no avail. She tried freeing herself using her fake nails on my hands. I kept using my grip with all exercises I used to gripping from the fitness center back then. She then tried to get heavy by lifting her legs up and doing a split. Instead of raping me, her body is too heavy as if her weight as an over 30 aged woman that doesn't do workouts by eating fast foods and obesity. Especially, if it's alcohol which was learned from my middle school past in health class. With plan B down from her drunk mind in whining while the two women were looking for a cop car outside which was found leaving out of Forest Park's Springfield Entrance, she tried choking me with her left arm on my neck. Even though I acted silly and dramatic being choked and was about to improvise a few seconds later, the police came just in time and detained her. I was in for question of what happened. I then said to them not to press charges on the drunk woman since there might be a reason why before she was drunk. The blue man tried to send her to the hospital but she was resisting so they sent her to detention at the very least. Another bus came since Mr. Espada's bus is out of order after he gave a 9-1-1 headboard response to anyone outside the bus driving by or walking past it wherever they're going. After the substitute bus went by, I asked people if they're okay. They said yes. People were amazed to what I did. Even two women thanked me. One of them with the tattoos said I am a hero. That was the first time someone said that to me. I should keep that in the bucket list. After all, I improvised. This is my best Chinese Zodiac year ever as a tiger. I wish it could've happened on my birthday instead since it was 10 days later with Aries. But, at least I did do leadership in one of its traits stopping the woman and telling the others to head to the back of the bus. Now this was a true celebration of St. Patrick's day already. Whether or not if I believe in God, he trickled part of my courage well gifted boost to stop that woman. As a kind man with a heart, I won't forget my St. Patrick's Day moment. This is the best day ever! Hail Aries! Hail The Tiger Year! You both are the shits(excuse my language to those who are religious. I only say those kinds of words to myself, to those who are offensive, rude, and threatening, or if I made myself get hurt)!

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m4rlique · 2 years

Text

red light > wes hicks

wes hicks x dewey’s kid!reader

warnings: mentions canon typical violence, idk if all the facts r canon accurate but its just little things dw about it, self indulgent bullshit

You couldn’t fathom Judy Hicks ever wanting you around, scheduling play dates for you and her son, babysitting for your busy parents, even picking you up from preschool on the odd day.

Compared to your mother, you were an angel in Judy’s eyes.

She remembered the frustration in her heart when Gale announced her pregnancy, weeks after she’d done the same thing. Of course, Gale one-upped her once again.

But Judy loved you to death. You were Dewey reincarnated, the only parts of your mother that were passed on being her ambition and stunning good looks. And her friendship with your father lead to the inseparable duo that was you and Wes.

He was with you throughout everything, from the first tooth lost to Gale and Dewey’s messy divorce. Frankly, if it weren’t for him being around, you’d have moved in with Gale in New York following the split.

But he loved you and you loved him (more than you’d ever admit). Clearly, the rest of your friend group thought so too.

“When are you gonna ask him?” Chad asked, looking over at you while Mindy rolled her eyes, trying to focus on her rewatch of the Stab franchise over his voice.

“Ask who what?” You gazed at him confusedly. Liv, who was practically in her boyfriend’s lap, jumped in, reading Chad’s mind for you.

“Wes. When are you gonna ask him out?”

“With the new ghostface killings, time might be running out before one of you bites it. He might as well die knowing you’re in love with him.”

You scoffed, looking back at the screen, using Mindy’s favourite film as the barrier that blocked out any and all of what they were saying. Instead, you had the pleasure of watching David Schwimmer, dressed up as your father, get stabbed gruesomely in the back. And you winced, which was embarrassing because of how hard Mindy was laughing at the scene and how the couple on the other side of you was still waiting for you to address how obviously in love you and Wes were.

The sound of a car horn outside cut the tension in the room like it were a knife, and you sighed in relief. A way out, just what you needed.

“That’s my ride,” You announced, standing up, “I gotta go. You all stay safe, okay? See you.”

“Let us know you got home safe!” Chad called after you. That and the girls saying goodbye being the last things you caught before you opened the car to reveal Wes’ car parked in the Meeks-Martin driveway.

He was behind the wheel, eyes lighting up like the headlights on his old car. You made haste to get in the passengers side, thanking him for picking you up.

“It’s no big deal, with everything going on, I’d rather not be alone, or you be alone.”

Your heart swelled, pounding at nothing but his word vomit. You clicked on your seat belt and kept your eyes on the road as he rambled even more, now about safety precautions his mom was forcing him to take.

“There’s extra taser in the glove box if you want it,” He commented offhandedly, making you smile. As much as he pretended to be annoyed by his overbearing mother’s cautiousness, you knew he was just as careful. It was practically hereditary.

Your chuckles died down into a weird silence. There was so many heavy topics for you both to discuss, but it was hard to bring any of them up.

You decided to say fuck it and take Chad’s advice for once, though he accidentally spoke over you during your attempt.

“Are you worried about—”

“I love you.”

Thank god he was stopped at a red light, giving him time to go bug eyes and look to you with endless confusion.

“—like seriously love you.”

He looked back at the steering wheel, then the road, blinking, and you swore he even reached to pinch himself.

“Y/n—”

“It’s no big deal if you don’t… like me or anything,” You cut him off again, embarrassed now. You could have dove out of the car as it was stationary, but he resumed driving too quickly, “You can just drop me off at my place and we can pretend this never happened.”

He sounded like he was going to implode, the car ride reaching its peak teenage awkwardness

“About that..”

You looked back at him, tearing your gaze from the street lamps to look at the red faced boy beside you.

“… What?”

“Dewey asked if you could stay with us for a while, for, uh— To keep you safe.”

Great. Just great. Clearly Chad’s advice was great and totally not the worst decision of her entire life.

Coated in embarrassment, you couldn’t help but cover your face, mumbling an “Oh my goddd.”

It wasn’t long before he pulled into his driveway, the two of you making it to the front door in seconds. But you didn’t go in right away, his frame blocking the doorknob for just a moment. It was quick, his movements, but he pulled you into the most emotional, hormonal, holy-fuck-we-might-die hug ever, and you clutched onto him like your life depended on it.

It was Wes who pulled away first, just back enough for your eyes to meet.

“Can I kiss you?”

The second your nod acted as his go ahead, he cupped your face and along came the kiss you’d both been yearning for for forever.

#wes hicks #wes hicks x reader #ghostface x reader #horror imagine #scream x reader #scream 5 #dylan minnette

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warmau · 3 years

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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance! younghoon had to do something for his late bday because i adore him others: juyeon

the disappointed look jacob gives you as he pulls into the parking lot beside your school is that of a parent, deflated with the rowdy actions of their only child

you hold your physics textbook in your lap in the passenger seat and try to smile at him as some sort of compensation

kevin chuckles from the backseat

"can't believe you're stuck in summer school the year before you graduate."

"shutup kevin the only reason you passed physics is because jacob lives down the street from you and let you copy all his old notes. otherwise, you'd be in there with me."

kevin shrugs and motions for you to get out of the car, you stick your tongue out and thank jacob for the ride

"waterparks gonna suck without you."

he says before he rolls up the window

you groan and mutter a "don't remind me about the waterpark dude" before turning to head inside

the room is barely air-conditioned and your summer physics teacher is some old lady who tells you all to read for the next hour and do the exercises on page one hundred and three

she then puts on an ancient pair of headphones and seemingly tunes you and the other summer school students out indefinitely

she doesn't even notice when the door opens half an hour later and in the frame is the tall, almost infuriatingly handsome figure of kim younghoon

you blink back in surprise - i thought he was a pretty good student?

younghoon notices you too, smiling as he passes your desk to sit in the one behind you

you look down at your textbook and suddenly don't know the weird feeling that washes you over

the room is pretty empty, he could sit anywhere else....

five minutes later, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder

you turn and younghoon smiles again - his teeth are blindingly white and he doesn't have one acne scar on his pretty face

"do you know if the teacher took attendance?"

you shake your head, "she's basically been comatose since i got here."

he chuckles softly enough that just the two of you hear it

"got it. so we'll just be sitting here in silence for two hours?"

"looks like it."

he takes a pause and looks at you as if he has something else to ask, but it doesn't come out

the first day then drags its feet until finally it's over and you drop your worksheet off on the desk

the teacher mutters that the homework for tomorrow is the next chapter and you give the fakest smile you can muster before trying to beeline for the door

before you can leave though, younghoon calls out your name and you turn to see him standing in the empty hallway

"if i need help with the homework - can i text you?"

you reluctantly make your way back toward him, you take your phone out and hand it to him

"sure, add yourself to my contacts. god this summer is gonna be so boring."

younghoon takes a moment before handing you back your phone, he nods in agreement

"at least we'll suffer together."

you don't think much of it when he says it - actually you don't think about it at all

the only reason it finds its way back into your head is because later that night your phone vibrates and it says you have a text from 'hoon [seven different flower emojis]'

younghoon?

you open it and see that's a long message whining about the confusing chapter you were assigned. you giggle because you've been whining to yourself while reading it too

but as you start to type out a reply you wonder.........

'at least we'll suffer together'.........we barely even know each other? is it really normal to say that - what about being together with a stranger makes summer school of all things better?

your hand hovers over the send button - you close your phone instead and go back to reading, forgetting about the text and falling over yourself in physics terms you should have remembered when you first were taking the class

the next morning, jacob doesn't drive you to school - you walk there and bump into younghoon whose on his way over too

he somehow manages to look tall and unaffected by the sweltering heat

he waves at you with another one of those priceless smiles

"did you do the homework?"

he asks as you fall into step with each other

"barely - i had to look at cobi's old notes."

"cobi?" younghoon tilts his head and you explain that it's a nickname for jacob

something on younghoon's face is confusing, it's like there's a twinge of sadness but you assume it's just a reflex squint to the glowing sun

"you didn't text me back - so i thought you might have given up on it!"

he laughs slightly and you clasp your hand over your mouth

"oh right! sorry - i must have spaced out and didn't hit send. but i totally agree - fluid mechanics could put anyone to sleep."

before you realize it you and younghoon are in the classroom again, sitting in the same seats

you're early so the teacher isn't there yet and younghoon flips to a page from the chapter to ask you if you know what its talking about

you explain what you think it means (from the information you got from jacob's old notes)

and the entire time you're maybe inches away from each other

when you aren't actively thinking about it, it's fine - but then your hands brush and suddenly it dawns on you and you sit back in your seat suddenly

younghoon senses the shift and opens his mouth to say something when the door swings open and a monotone voice tells you to open up to page one hundred and fifty-seven

like what younghoon said and his text, you soon forget about the momentary skinship

your brain starts to melt of boredom as the class drags on and you get past a note from younghoon when the teacher isn't looking

'do you know the answer for problem #3?'

'it's 23.56 m/s'

'woah you're so smart'

'more like the person who used this textbook before me wrote the equation on the page'

'lucky - let's trade textbooks?'

'in your dreams :P'

another long day comes to an end and you wave a goodbye to younghoon, he smiles and waves back and adds a - "reply to my text this time, ok?"

you nod and only again do you think about what he says when you're home and thinking straight under the graciousness of your AC

does that mean he's going to text me?

and like yesterday, younghoon does text you complaining about the reading

you answer and a conversation that comes almost way too easily starts

this cycle starts anew the next day, and the day after that, until at some point you realize you are forming a sort of summer friendship with kim younghoon

and that's normal - that's fine

but there are moments where you look up at him when you're paired together for a makeshift lab or when you've agreed to stay behind some extra hours to study

that you see younghoon in all this detail up close and he's undeniably handsome but also you see something more

for all the years you've been in the same school together, passed each other at parties, probably even stood together at assemblies

you've taken him at complete face value. perfect proportions, always someones crush, the pretty and popular boy who somehow hasn't added complete selfish jerk to that title as well

he's just - kim younghoon - untouchable, out of anyone's league

and now he's more real.

you see the mole on his neck, the way his eyes crinkle when he finds something really funny, the pickiness of his eating habits and how he can't hold a pen properly with his left hand.

they're things that make him human and they're things that you can't help but notice because like anyone, you are instantly attracted to younghoon

it's just crazy that beyond that face there's a boy who you could easily see yourself falling for

of course, you end the thoughts right there.

even though sometimes, you get a weird kind of feeling that younghoon is noticing something about you too.

it really starts to eat at you after you guys are at the halfway point of summer classes - and you have your first test.

you're both panicking about it, because if you don't pass this one - you probably won't pass the final - which means physics again when autumn comes around

so you and younghoon have been spending a lot of time in the library after class with your textbooks, snacks, and jacob's old notes

of course you're both grinding, but distractions happen and you end up taking a break to toss candy into his mouth and doodle cartoons of your boring teacher in the margins of your notes

giggling like maniacs over the inside jokes about class and school you've both come up with, getting scolded by the ancient librarian if you're just a little too loud about it

and then younghoon asks you: "do you have plans after the test?"

you huff and cross your arms

"yeah, to go home and curl up on my bed and forget it ever happened."

he chuckles, puts his hand on his neck and then pauses - what you think is a light pinkness starts to dust his skin

"same, but if you want instead i though-"

your phone goes off just as the words string together - you pick it up and try to wave an apology to the librarian who rolls her eyes at you

with a whisper you turn your head to answer

"what? jacob? what - no i don't know where kevin is i thought he'd be with you."

younghoon's lips thin out and you barely react as you duck under the table you're studying at to keep your voice low

you finish the call and come back up with a sigh

"what were you saying by the way?"

younghoon shakes his head

"nothing, is kevin ok?"

you get back in your seat and you don't want to comment on the weird thin blanket of tension that seems to undertone the question

"he's fine, jacob will find him over at eric's or something."

you look at younghoon and he doesn't return your gaze, he's pushed his chair in closer to the table and picked up his pen

you do the same and try to break whatever this weirdness is

"should we go over chapter five again?"

that moment replays in your head for almost a week straight, it almost distracts you during the test but thankfully you and younghoon both pass

you flaunt your 84 versus his 82 but the happiness of it seems to wash away any excess awkwardness from before

at least for him, for you - you somehow can't stop analyzing it in your head

to make matters worse, more pocket-sized interactions like this start to pop up

younghoon is always seemingly on the verge of asking you to hang out with him outside of class but he never really does

something always stops him

and you kind of start to wish he just would, or if the question that's always on the tip of his tongue isn't that - then you really want to know what it is

you overthink and it frustrates you more than you admit, but at the same time younghoon had been right when summer started

the fact that you have each other to suffer together actually doesn't make this whole thing worse than it originally was going to be

the only reason you're having a tolerable summer is because of him

you don't want to ruin it by prying him with questions

wanting to know if he wants something more than just a physics class-based friendship

because it gets to a point where you don't know what to do, you ask your best friends

when you explain that you and younghoon just click - and it seems like he might want to be around you more, the way you want to be around him -

jacob and kevin give you the same look

jaocb's just nicer when he says "why don't you ask him to hang out first?"

while kevin just laughs and calls you a big dummy - popular pretty boy or not, that's crushing behavior you're describing

you think about it

what's stopping me from asking him first? seriously - am i going to be that person who needs to wait around for prince charming to pull the first move?

so you decide you will, it takes jacob giving you a pep talk before you go into class the next day but you are resiliant

and when younghoon comes through the door - you stand up

"oh, a standing ovation did i do something right?"

he jokes and you have to tell yourself not to focus on how cute he is and get straight to the point

"do you want to hang out after class?"

younghoon's bag drops from his hands and you both kind of startle at the noise

oh shit. here it comes. the big 'oh i hope you don't think this is something more than it is....' line

"oh - i - sure, i mean i saw jacob's car in the parking lot is he not gonna pick you up later?"

you blink in confusion

"no, why would jacob come pick me up?"

younghoon and you have a moment of complete silence and then

"you're dating him, right?"

you're pretty sure you let out a sound that's a mixture of a little yell and an attempt at a laugh

it's embarrassing and before you can backtrack it, the door opens and the teacher snaps her fingers for you and younghoon to sit

as you do - you realize your entire body has gone kind of numb

is that the reason he's been dancing around me this summer, because of jacob?!?!?!

you turn before the teacher can even write the pages to work on on the board

"no!"

you exclaim and younghoon blinks those big, brown pretty eyes at you

"i am definitely not dating jacob bae!"

a sense of relief seems to wash over his face, but you can't even enjoy the way he looks happy because the teacher clears her throat

"the matter of who you are or are not dating is not the topic of this class - physics is. so pay. attention."

you nod, looking down at your textbook as the other students snicker to themselves

halfway through the class younghoon passes you a note

'how about we go see a movie or something?'

your first date goes well.

actually it goes really really well because it turns out younghoon is scared of horror movies and you're not and when he nearly jumps into your arms with fear you just laugh and hold him close

by the time it ends he's got his head completely in your neck and you have your arms wrapped around his waist

it's actually insane how comfortable you two are with touching each other despite the fact that all of summer you would knock knees and it would set both of you into a state of petrification

and when you text your gc after, jacob sends a thousand loving emojis

and kevin replies with: but is he a good kisser tho?

turns out he is, although he kisses with a shyness that is unexpected considering how loud and fun he can get around you

he lets you take the lead, which is nice, and when you kiss him right on the jawline he inhales sharply and you figure out the part of kim younghoon that gets him all worked up

a secret you're sure the rest of the student body will be jealous of you for knowing

the summer goes from tolerable to magical in the snap of a second

your classes finish, you and younghoon both pass the final and celebrate with ice-cream and a trip to the amusement park

you end up on the ferris wheel and younghoon sheepishly admits he had always been a little sad thinking about how you were doing these fun things with jacob and not with him

and you scrunch your nose up and tell him the last time you and jacob were on a ferris wheel together you were comforting kevin for his random fear of heights

speaking of moonbae, they both really like you and younghoon together

jacob thinks he's a mannered young man and kevin is just like soooooo you're nice enough to put up with them (you) you must be a saint

the four of you finally get to go to that water park you missed out on in the beginning and while you and younghoon are holding hands on the lazy river sharing little cute kisses

kevin is splashing jacob to a point where the lifeguard on duty has to intervene

younghoon still sometimes dances around what he actually wants to say or do - and so you coax it out of him with the threat of complimenting him

which you learn is your greatest weapon, you call him pretty and it's practically game over

but seriously he just tucks you into his arms and mumbles something and you're like hmmm and he's like mumbling and you're like younghoon words or i will list the top five things i like about you and he's like

"oK i just wanted to ask if you wanted to stay over........."

you do :) and when you take the liberty of stealing a big flannel of his younghoon hides his face in his hands for like ten minutes straight

before autumn finally comes around for good - you and younghoon talk about how you both flunked physics

you explain that you just did not put the effort in at all and skipped more times than you could count, but younghoon just says he thinks he just messed up pretty bad on the final

"why did you do bad on the final?"

he looks away and you scoot closer, "younghoon?"

"well remember how we all took the final with our seats switched ..... the teacher put me next to you and it was distracting...."

"no way - are you saying im the reason you were in summer school?!?!"

you sit up and younghoon does too with a laugh

"maybe - but it was worth it. i got to spend a whole summer with you."

years down the line you still bring the story up as a fun meet-cute

everyone thinks younghoon is 100% joking, there's no way he failed a final because he was sitting next to his crush

but younghoon swears it's the reason why - he's sure if he could find his original test paper he could show everyone that where he was supposed to have written out the equation he just wrote your name down ten times

jacob accuses him one day for flunking it on purpose since he probably knew you were going to end up in summer school

you turn to your fiancee and ask him is that true, did he really fail it on purpose to spend more time with you?

younghoon's ears turn pink and the whole room erupts into laughter

"younghoon, why would you do that!"

you push him gently, your hand on his chest with the glittering band he gifted you

he shrugs back with a big smile

"i really really really liked you - and hey, it worked out didn't it?"

#listen to me. writing about him is like making me walk through fire i like him so much #younghoon au #younghoon scenarios #younghoon imagines #younghoon #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #tbz au #tbz #sfw #nostalgia au #kim younghoon #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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a-singleboat · 3 years

Text

His Shirt

Word Count: 1533

A/N: I literally have no excuse, but I’m back!

Request: Can I request something where the reader and Shayne have been seeing each other for a little while and she unknowingly wears one of his shirts to work and the whole day goes by like normal but towards the end of it, someone like Noah or something ends up questioning it like “how has no one noticed this, or mentioned it all freaking day?!” And Shayne gets shy about it but the reader just laughs it off and it’s all cute and fluffy af💕💕- Anon

Over quarantine, you’d seen very little of any of your friends and coworkers. Working from home was tough, especially since you and your partner had just made the decision to move in with each other a week before the entire country had been submerged into a lockdown that stretched over a few months. The days blended together and eventually dragged on, which made you excited to return to work if anything.

The morning of your official return, you woke up extremely early, not having been able to sleep the night before due to pure excitement. You wanted to get back to filming, to doing all the things you did before going into quarantine, you missed the hustle and bustle of set life.

You were dressed before Shayne was, throwing on a button up from your shared closet as well as a pair of dark-wash jeans that only felt a little tight at the waist. You weren’t concerned, seeing as you were never really on the skinny side of fitness, you figured it was just early morning bloating that would go away as the day went on.

“Are you driving or am I?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of the feet as you waited for Shayne to pull on a thin jacket. It wasn’t fully winter yet but it also wasn’t cold enough to constitute a full coat. You had a thinner track jacket on as well, the zipper zipped only part of the way up in your hurry.

Shayne paused by you to pull up the zipper the rest of the way before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Calm down,” he advised, pulling his mask on over the bottom half of his face. “We still have to grab breakfast before heading to the offices, Courtney asked if we could stop by that bagel place by us she likes.”

“Is it even open?” you asked, patting down your pockets to make sure you had everything. Once you were sure you had your phone, keys, and wallet, you then realized that you had completely forgotten your purse inside. You whirled around to head back inside when Shayne handed you the black bag, a knowing smirk on his face.

“They’re open for pickups only,” he told you, pulling your keys from your pocket, “and I’ll drive, I don’t feel like getting pulled over by the cops today.”

“I’m not that bad at driving,” you tried to defend yourself, hurrying after him as he walked off to the parking lot. “I just take the speed limit signs as suggestions but that doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.”

He didn’t respond, instead holding the passenger seat door open for you. His action was answer enough. You slid into the passenger seat and buckled in as he shut the door tight, running around to the other side and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“What are we going to tell them when you roll up driving my car, huh?” you questioned. “Our friends know we moved into the same apartment because it was cheaper as roommates, not because we started dating. If you roll up driving my car they’ll have questions.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tried to parlay your worries. “Besides, if you’re that concerned about it I can just say you had a headache or didn’t feel like driving after we got to the bagel shop. Not the end of the world.”

You sank back into your seat, coming to terms with the fact that Shayne was not going to let you drive. He pulled out of the parking lot as One Direction played softly in the background, the aux cord trailing from its socket to the connector on your phone as you dictated what you listened to on the way to the bagel shop.

Shayne got out of the car when you got there, heading in to pick up the order you had called ahead for on the way there. He was back before Temporary Fix ended, handing the bagels over to you as you switched over to Alec Benjamin for the rest of the ride in.

You ate your bagel on the way in, putting the vegetable spread evenly over the toasted bread and eating it as Water Fountain played. You held out a bit of your bagel, silently asking if Shayne wanted any. He took the bite, smiling when he realized you accidentally got cream cheese on his cheek. You reached out with a napkin and wiped it off before finishing the rest of your bagel.

You arrived at the offices shortly after, unplugging your phone from the aux and exiting the vehicle. Luckily, no one was outside to see the two of you enter the building. You would say you were walking a little too closely for it to be considered friendly, especially during a pandemic, but everyone knew that the two of you were close friends anyways. Walking close together wouldn’t give anything away.

“What do you have to film today?” you made small talk in the elevator, getting to your working mindset. You knew what you had to do, film a gaming video with Ian, Noah, and Courtney, as well as take a look and collaborate with the writers on a new skit idea for when production went back to being fully up and running. It would be a short day for you, which wasn’t ideal but at least you got some camera time.

Shayne looked up from his phone. “I’ve got the meeting with the crew and then some gaming videos, I think. We’re also planning for the Christmas video soon, so I’ll probably be with Wardrobe for most of the day.”

You hummed as the elevator doors opened, Shayne tucking his phone away and then sending you a wink. You felt your face burn hot as you scrunched up your nose. You reached up to fix your mask as you waited for the elevator to go up to the main office floor, heading straight for your desk where a pack of Lysol wipes and a temperature gun were waiting.

Proactive, you thought, using the wipes to clean off the surface of your desk before finally setting your things down. You took your jacket off, draping over the back of your chair before sitting. You had about thirty minutes before your call time so you checked your email and went over a few of the new safety regulations that were put in place for filming.

The most notable were the fifteen-minute COVID tests you would have to take before and after each section of filming, meaning you couldn’t enter or exit the filming area without a negative test. Honestly, that was a good thing if any. At least the company cared in that way.

Filming took up the rest of your day and when you finally finished with your writer’s meeting, it was six pm. Not as early as a day as you would have hoped but you’ve definitely stayed in the studio for longer so you weren’t going to complain.

You were sitting at your desk as you waited for Shayne to finish up his meeting, casually chatting with Noah to pass the time. You were sharing one of your quarantine stories when Shayne walked in, heading straight for your desk with his things already collected.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, adjusting her jacket. “Also, what do you want for dinner tonight because I was thinking we could have lasagna but if we want lasagna we have to stop by the market on the way.”

You laughed, pulling your jacket on. “I could go for lasagna.”

Noah looked between the two of you, slowly connecting the dots. He pointed at you, a grin on his face as realization crossed his features. “That’s Shayne’s shirt.”

You looked down, realizing that, yeah, you were wearing Shayne’s shirt. You looked over at Shayne who’s cheeks were as red as a tomato. He started stammering, offering reasons as to why you were wearing his shirt.

You just shrugged, quickly thinking for a way out. “The laundry must have gotten mixed up. Not the first time I’d accidentally worn his shirts.”

Noah gave you a look that read that he didn’t quite believe you. But he let it go, taking note of Shayne’s red cheeks and your flustered looks. He smirked, patting your shoulder as he got up.

“I’ll believe you for now,” he said, leaving the two of you to stew in your minor embarrassment.

“How long until everyone knows?” you asked Shayne who looked only mildly mortified that Noah was the first to find out. “We weren’t even keeping it a secret either… I’m proud of us anyhow.”

“I guess that means we don’t have to worry about who sees us now,” he said, looking on the bright side. “And yeah, keeping it a secret any longer would have been kinda dumb, wouldn’t it have been.”

You headed to the elevators, linking your arm through Shayne’s.

“Not excited for the fans to find out, though.”

Shayne looked at you and then looked back at the opening elevator doors. “We don’t have to tell them. It can be Smosh’s little secret.”

TAGLIST

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch @paige0103 @theofficialzivadavid

#shayne topp #shayne topp x reader #shayne #topp #reader #shayne topp imagine #shayne topp fluff #fluff #his shirt #Noah Grossman #Courtney Miller #ian hecox #one direction #alec benjamin #smosh #smosh games

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refriedweeb · 4 years

Text

PUT YOUR LIPS ON MY SKIN ( HAWKS + READER 18+)

A/N: heyyoo! refriedweeb here again with another request from @alexandria-selina and has elements of jealous hawks with his wings (from that tiktok head canon of them puffing out you know what I mean) and this post from @keiqos !

Prompt: “A jealous Hawks where his s/o gets hit on by another pro and she's blushing. She's just being shy but Hawks takes it as she likes it. Instead of getting into a fight with the pro, he shows his s/o why she shouldn't look at anyone else.”

Tags/Warnings: smut, overstimulation, jealousy, mirror fucking, spit, a lil bit of blood, rutting, feral, aftercare, kink, jealous, dirty talk.

Word count: 5,080

Keigo Takami hated hero events. He hated having to wear the Hawks persona day in and day out, especially when it came to being surrounded by his fellow pro heroes. Now, don’t get the guy wrong, he did enjoy what he did for a career despite any behaviors he had to unlearn from the hero commission themselves. He wanted to save people, he wanted to make the world a better and safer place. He just hated all the bullshit politics that came with it. They were heroes, hell. It wasn’t about making best friends and going to fancy events when there was always going to people out there that needed them while they clinked glasses of overpriced champagne.

Though, one thing Keigo didn’t think he minded that much was seeing you dolled up in a dress that led his mind to sinful, dark places. You and Keigo had only recently started dating, after months of him slowly starting to open up to you about the shit that he’d gone through, how he’d really felt about the commission once he’d gotten the sense that he could trust you. It’d been a struggle to call yourselves an item, but now that you could, Keigo felt what he could only assume was peace inside of a darkened and traumatized heart. There was also another emotion that was stirring in him that had nothing to do with peace, and all of those awful things that he wanted to do to your body. None that he would apologize for, of course.

It wasn’t his fault that the commission had decided to host a little event when he was in the peak of his rut season.

And oh, was Keigo in trouble. You’d recently started wearing a new perfume that had driven him up a wall the moment he’d caught the scent on you at the beginning of his mating season. It wasn’t sickly sweet, but sweet enough, and mixed perfectly with your natural pheromones to create a musk that drove his cock to twitch every time you shook some hair over your shoulder, stretched, fucking just breathed. He’d been unable to keep his hands off you for the majority of the weeks that had past, except as of late. You’d told him to keep his filthy paws to himself leading up to the event, not wanting to be bruised or love bit to all hell because Keigo couldn’t control himself. The way that he saw it, the dress you’d picked for the night was to torment him on purpose. Deep red velvet that matched his wings, settling over the curve of your hips, the flow of your waist.

You’d made him promise to be on his best behavior for the night, not wanting any trouble or any media to get wildly stories about what your relationship was really about. But damn, if the moment you were alone with him, he was going to tear that dress to shreds with what little talons he had in place of regular nails. You, on the other hand, your body had been spent. Keigo was insatiable on a good day, but ever since the rut season had started, it’d been exceptionally so. Not that you could complain, your body was sore in a much different, more appreciative way than you felt with sparring.

And yes, you had chosen the red velvet dress on purpose. It was your goal of the night to drive Keigo as out of his mind as possible. You couldn’t read him quite as well yet, your relationship still relatively new, and Keigo working through an entire lifetime of walls to protect his emotional security from the hero commission. His expression was a blank one, but when you locked eyes with him, Keigo gave you the smallest eyebrow raise as he looked you up and down. A silent stamp approval that had heat blossoming up your neck. He wanted to make that perfume you were wearing mixed with his own, he wanted to make sure that anyone who got a whiff of your scent knew who you belonged to. He wasn’t a fan of sharing by any means.

The night carried on, speeches given by the leaders of the commission (which you’d always found yourself by Keigo’s side much to his comfort), Endeavor’s speech, All Night’s retirement speech, and so on and so on. There’s been a light array of snacks while the pros mingled, finding yourself talking to Shinya Kamihara, otherwise known to the world as Edgeshot. It wasn’t very often you got to mingle with the top ten pros, your rank in the high teens, so you found yourself shy. Not quite sure how to handle yourself around such class, experiences, and amazing heroes. You were sure the blush on your cheeks, your neck, was visible from outer space. Shinya was a gentleman, he complimented you on your quirk, your work, and the little bit of history you’d talked to him about on why you had made your choice to become a hero. From your point of view, it was a harmless conversation that was borderline on friendly as you got to know the fellow hero, but from a certain outside perspective it was something a little more.

Keigo wasn’t paying attention to any of the conversation going on around him, his eyes were focused on you. The way you tipped your head back as you laughed, sending another ripple effect of your smell through the air. Was that bastard Edgeshot trying to move in on you? Did he really think he had a chance? He swallowed the jealousy in his throat, though his avian side had a mind of its own on this. His wings, proud and defensive, puffed out. This caused a stir of the other heroes around him, asking if there was something they missed that he’d alerted to. Keigo laughed, the same charismatic Hawks as always, saying they just needed a stretch. He crossed his arms, fidgeting with one of his cuff links. Keigo, jealous? Haha. HAHAHAHA...ha? His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched you pat Edgeshot on the shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek before the other hero moved away.

His instinct was to claim you right then and there. To rub his scent all over you and yours on his so that no one else would mistake you as open. But...that’d certainly cause a scene and that was something he promised he wouldn’t do that night. So, Keigo bit back on his instinct, unclenched his jaw, and behaved for the rest of the night. Anything that came after that was entirely out of his control. You’d floated around to him throughout the night, not doing much outside of brushing hands together, a chaste smile shared between you. This was your first real hero event ever since you broke into the teens of your career, and it was one you wanted to soak in. Keigo knew this, and didn’t want to spoil it for you despite his own feelings on the event.

Keigo’s mood, his want, took a turn for the worse when it came to someone actually flirting with you. You, not experienced enough with the personalities of some of these heroes to realize what was happening. It wasn’t Edgeshot this time, no. Now...it was Ryo Inui, better known as Hound Dog. And he was like Keigo in a way that he wanted to mark whatever it was that he wanted. Ryo put his hand on the small of your back, where Keigo’s hand was supposed to go. He laughed when you laughed, leaning in close to you as like there was some desperate secret he needed to share with your ears only. Ryo was flirting with his girlfriend and was being so bold about it. No, nope. That would not do for him. His wings fanned out again, this time catching the attention of several people around him, you and Ryo included. Your mouth dropped open in awe at the sight, though when you caught Keigo’s eyes to see his pupils narrowed into slits, something like a firework set off in your belly.

That fucking mutt dared to spoil that perfume that sent him into a frenzy with his dog-like scent? That wasn’t something that Keigo could stand for in the slightest. That scent was you. It was the scent he had been planning on burying his own in.

The two of you left the event shortly after.

On the ride back to Keigo’s place, the car was silent. Not a word was spoken between the two of you, though it was full of tension in a way where if you breathed, you felt that you could choke on it. He drove fast, shifting gear after gear with aggression that made you wish it was your neck he gripped so hard. As you sat in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together to feel some of that much desired tension between your legs. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keigo, and he hissed.

Still, the two of you didn’t exchange words until you were behind the privacy of his front door. And even then, you spoke first. “Everything okay, Keigo?”

His pupils were still zeroed in on you, as he stalked towards you, every bit the predator bird that he was. And fuck, if it didn’t make you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. You walked backwards, careful not to trip over the towering heels you were in. His body was hot, flush against yours though he refused to touch you. Keigo wanted to take his time with this, with devouring you. You’d rubbed it in his face how much the rest of the heroes wanted you, being the little flirt that you were. There was no need for him to rush into anything, the way Keigo saw it. “Oh, everything’s fine.” He commented, tone dark. “I could handle that nimrod Edgeshot eyeing you up like some desert, sure. I behaved,” Keigo tipped his head to the side as he shrugged. He’d managed to walk you back into the bedroom you’d been sharing recently.

“What are you talking about? Edgeshot was just being friendly!”

Keigo’s chuckle was cynical, but it turned the silk of your bundle into a pearl with how quickly it excited you. “He wanted to tear this dress of you just as much as I do.” How he was. “But then you had to go and be a little tease, didn’t you?” Keigo was watching you like a hawk would watch a mouse just before it clutched it in its’ talons. “Had to let Ryo rub himself on you like the mutt he is. In the middle of my rutting season.” Your back bumped up against the floor length mirror behind you as Keigo gripped your jaw, the sharp curve of what would have been talons biting into the skin there. “All I can smell on you is him.”

He clucked his tongue. Sharp, narrowed eyes lowered over your skin and back up. You were breathless and Keigo hadn’t even touched you yet. “That just won’t do, now will it, (Y/N)?”

“K-Keigo, I don’t know what you’re-”

A soft cry of pain rose from the back of your throat as his version of talons sank into your skin, enough to draw a little bit of blood. This was Keigo in his rutting form times a million, a possessive version of him you’d never seen before. Part of you was scared, but the larger part of you was excited. He wanted to claim you. He wanted to make you more than just his.

“I asked if that would do, (Y/N)?”

Unable to speak with how tightly Keigo gripped your jaw, you simply shook your head from side to side. No, it wouldn’t do. That crooked smirk brushed over Keigo’s lips, and you wanted to taste him so bad. Taste the anger on his tongue, feel the fury in the rows of his teeth. Keigo was pissed, more than anything, that someone had tried to erase his claim on you. So, the only way to make sure that never happened again was to mold the scent of you with his. “That’s a good little slut.” Keigo released his hand from your jaw, the faint tickle of blood that ran down your jaw sending a shiver down your spine.

Keigo turned surprisingly gentle as he turned you around, as he pressed your hands up against the curve of the mirror that you were facing. “I’m going to make you watch me claim you. Fuck you and fill you until there’s no fucking mistaking who you belong to.” His hands dug into the back of your skin, and you winced. “You keep these hands right here, and if you don’t, there’ll be problems. Do you understand, little bird?”

“Yes, Keigo.”

His devilishly wicked smile returned. And so did the greed in his hands. Keigo took his time groping you, the swell of your breasts full in his hands. The winding curves of your waist and hips. Down the silken road of the dress that he swore he’d destroy. He wasn’t soft, gentle. Keigo was at his brink already, but he wanted to take his time with torturing you for being such a teasing little whore. His hands gripped the sides of your thighs, plunged through the velvet fabric so that lines of red were exposed in the slits he left behind. A soft moan escaped you at the sensation of talons digging through your skin, and he watched your expression in the mirror’s reflection as he did it over your backside. “Do you like that, whore?” he whispered in your ear. “When I leave my mark on you? When all you can feel is me?”

“Yes, fuck,” you breathed in response. He buried his face in the juncture of your neck and collarbone, taking a deep breath in that still smelled like mutt, fueling his need to erase that smell completely. His kisses were wet, sloppy, tongue traced over the length of your collarbone, of your neck. A soft sigh escaped you, your grip on the perimeter of the mirror growing tighter as the need to touch Keigo grew. His teeth sank into the soft spot of your neck, your head falling back on his shoulder as he suckled the skin there, a patch of pink blossoming against the skin there that would eventually bruise. The assault against your neck and your shoulders didn’t stop there, either. He ran his nose along the length of your shoulders, leaving trails of wet, angry patches from where he’d bit and pulled at your skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of Keigo that was kidding when he said he was going to erase every trace of anyone on your body but him. His cock was hard, and it would have been so easy to just bury himself inside the soft warmth of your cunt, and god how he ached to.

But the best things came to those that waited.

While his tongue and mouth worked at your neck and shoulders, his fingers played with your breasts, groping and pulling at the skin there with reckless abandon. Fingers pinched at your nipples, sharpened nails ghosted across the tender flesh there. You shuddered, shifted where you stood as you ground against his hips, feeling the thick length of him there. Keigo had barely even touched you, but you could feel the pool of warmth between your thighs only growing wetter. “Keigo,” you mewled.

“Hmm?” his breath came hot against the ear he had been nibbling on, and your knees knocked together.

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

“Touch you where?” His tone sounded positively bored, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger that caused you to squeal.

“My pussy,” you caught sight of your own desperate expression in the mirror, all while Keigo looked like a predator playing with his food. And in that moment, you realized this was exactly what it was. Keigo was toying with you before he sent you to the next level of existence. Your legs quivered. “Play with me.”

“Have you been a good little bird?” He asked.

“Yes.”

His hum seemed to be a satisfied answer, because his hands left your breasts, finding a new home at the back of your dress. But rather than go for the zipper, Keigo simply tore the fabric. The sound of it ripping filled the room as it pooled down at your feet seconds later. Leaving you exposed save for the same colored red pair of panties you’d worn that night. The dress had left no room for a matching bra given the dip at your back it’d once had. But that was of no consequence to Keigo. Keigo let out a sharp breath through his teeth as he admired your body and all that came with it. His hands found the curve of your backside, kneading the flesh there with thought. You could feel the tent of him pressing in between your thighs, and you let him slip between your thighs, shifting your thighs back and forth to alleviate some of the tension in his cock for him.

On instinct, more due to the fact that the bird in him wanted to cover you in his scent and his cum, Keigo rolled his hips into you with a snap of a thrust. It pushed you forward, almost sending you colliding with the mirror. “Little bird, that wasn’t very nice of you.” He scolded, letting a finger draw under the band of your panty before lifting it up. A moment later it was slapping against your skin, and you hissed. “I’ll have to punish you. Such behavior tonight...” he drawled, quickly shedding his formal attire until he was dressed down to just his pants. Keigo pressed his chest against your back, rubbing himself against you. His free hand returned to one of your breasts, toying with the nipple there as he murmured in your ear, his voice husky.

Feral.

“So naughty tonight...” Keigo continued as his other hand slipped down the front of your body, underneath the dark red lace that had kept that pretty little cunt concealed from him. He found how wet you already were for him, slick glaze quick to coat his fingers as he ran them up and down between your legs. “Already so ready for me. You really are the little tease, aren’t you?” A moan escaped you as he teased the tip of his finger around the circle of your clit, but not quite touching it. “So filthy...” he went on, breath hot against where he’d drawn out hickies moments before.

You were so eager for him to be inside of you, already so wet for him, Keigo had the perfect punishment for you being so naughty. He brushed his thumb against your clit, and your grip on the mirror slid down as you fought not to grab onto him. He was tantalizingly slow as he circled around your clit, tapping against the swollen bud every so often but not often enough for what you needed in that moment. His chuckle was dry, the hand that had been playing with your breast sneaking up to your neck. Your thighs were slick with your need, your core on fire as he teased you closer and closer to your edge.

Keigo tipped your head back, opening your mouth as he leaned in. As he spat on the tongue you’d pushed out like the slut you were. Every possible hole he could find to fill you with, Keigo was going to. You weren’t going to be able to walk down the fucking street without a single person forgetting who you belonged to. “What do we say, little bird?”

“Thank you,” you rasped as he slid two fingers into you, feeling him stretch your walls as he slowly pumped them in and out of you. He was slow, methodical, holding your jaw in place so that he could look down at that awestruck expression on your face as he finger fucked you. Your belly was on fire, waves of fire rolling as your orgasm wound tighter and tighter around his fingers. Keigo could feel his own cock slick with his precum, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer himself.

“I don’t like it when other people look at you like you’re theirs for the taking,” Keigo muttered when he the tip of his nail along your clit. The featherlight sensation caused your knees to buckle, your hips to buck as you fell back into him. “You’re mine. And I’m going to fill you so fucking good that no one makes that mistake again.” He stretched your walls further with a third finger, and you writhed in your standing position as he continued to work those fingers in and out of you. The coil in your belly was wound tight enough where you thought

“Who do you belong to, little bird?” His fingers picked up pace, the sound of your silken glaze coating him filling the room while you fought to make your brain remember words. Your mouth hung open as he finger-fucked you, head bobbing against his shoulder as he looked down at you expectantly. “Tell your man who this pussy belongs to, and I’ll let you cum.” He could feel how close you were, the sound of your mewls turning to pants.

“You! It belongs to you!” you whimpered, grinding against his hand, your hips rolled forward to press his fingers deeper inside you. “Please, Keigo!”

This satisfied him enough, at least for now. His pace quickened still until your head was hung forward between your shoulders, moaning his name over and over as you watched him finger fuck you. Your orgasm was on the brink, the precipice of pleasure and all you needed was -

“Ah, fuck! Fuck, Ke-AH,” That needed push found you moments later and you were spilling around the spread of his fingers, your orgasm taking over you as your legs spasmed, knees buckling so that Keigo had to support you with a hand around your waist. Your grip on the outer of the mirror so ironclad you thought you’d break it. It rolled through you in waves, Keigo’s fingers sticky as he pulled them from you, suckling your sweetness of his fingers like it was candy. Shit.

“What a good little slut,” he whispered. The sound of his belt loosening, the pants falling, re-sparked that fire you’d just doused by orgasming. You could see his cock, curved and thick with a head already milking his cum. “Gonna fill you so good now, gonna fuck you full of my cum.” You watched, mouth dry as he milked himself with a fist. “Gonna watch me fuck you, baby bird.” You could feel the press of his head between your thighs, and you widened your stance to accommodate him.

Then, without warning, he thrust so hard into you, that you cried out in pain. His thrusts from the get go were borderline violent, painful as you fought against being thrown into the glass of the mirror. A hand fisted into your hair, pulling it sharply enough that you could feel the pain, but with enough leeway that you could still watch as he moved in and out of you, his cock already wet with what was left behind from your first orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the smell of sweet sex coming shortly after. You were unable to make any intelligible noises aside from mewls and gasps, while Keigo was behind you muttering to himself about how good your pussy felt, how it was made for his cock, how he was going to fill you up so fucking good.

The mountain climb to your orgasm started again, your cunt clenching around him as he thrust in and out of you with feverish need. His hips were sloppy, and you didn’t dare tear your eyes away from where he slipped in and out of you. “Such a sweet fucking cunt,” Hawks groaned, twisting your hair tighter in his fist. “My fucking pussy.” he hissed with a thrust that hit the highest point of your wall and caused you pain. Yet you didn’t dare stop. The look on Keigo’s face, the roll of his bottom lip between his teeth, let you know he was close to his high. The sight of him so focused on fucking you wound your belly tighter, and you missed the hand that slipped down to your clit once more. You cried out, the over-sensitized nub of your clit protesting as his thumb found it once more. The grip you had on the mirror shifted again, a move to get his hand away from where you were most sensitive.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” he growled, and your legs quivered. His eyes were still narrowed into near-invisible slits as you obeyed the order. You shook, spasmed, as he raced your orgasm to line up with his.

“Please, please, ah, hrnngh, Kei-” your hips found the rhythm to match his almost instantly, and tears sparked in your eyes as the bundle of nerves exploded inside of your body, every nerve ending inside you set on fire, exploding as your second orgasm found you just moments before Keigo found his own.

“Fuck, fuck yeah, gonna fill you so fuckin-Urngh,” Keigo groaned, fucking into you with one last violent thrust as he spilled himself in you, shooting ribbons of cum that went scorching through your core. There was a moment as the two of you stood there, Keigo still inside of you, breathing heavily. You on the other hand, were shaking all over, barely able to keep yourself on both legs.

Keigo’s callused finger pad was still resting over your clit, and even the smallest shift sent a wave of pleasured pain coursing through your entire body. You were overstimulated, likely to cum if he persisted again. “Kei...” you whispered. His head was resting over your collarbone, hung low. He reached out and slapped your hand away, pressed it back to the mirror. He wasn’t done with you.

“Told you, little bird. Gotta punish you.”

A whimper rolled through you, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” you let out a whine as he tapped his thumb against you again, slowly rolling a half-hard cock in and out of you as he started at your clit again. Massaging it slowly, cruelly. Your legs bowed out, slack as it was on Keigo alone to keep you supported with your weight against his chest. “Gotta make sure you know,” his hips snapped against yours again, and those tears that had been hidden in your eyes slipped loose. “That no one else is gonna fuck you this good. No one’s gonna make you feel this good.” he said, your body screaming at you for relief, for the prickling of nerves in your skin to cease. “You’re my good little slut.” You could feel whatever remnants of his cum shooting out into you once more, wetness cascading down your thighs.

The perfume you’d been wearing now, Keigo noted, was mixed so heavily with his own pheromones and sex, that there was no mistaking who fucked you at night. Who you were mated to. You were all Keigo’s, and that was what mattered to him. But he still had to finish punishing you for being a little tease, for allowing that musky scent to be tarnished by anyone other than him. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess, flushed against his body as your hips moved on their own accord in time with the fingers he was using between your sopping lips. Your cries were pained, unintelligible pleas to cum and be released. Yet, he took his time. Feeling that sweet cunt clamp down around his fingers once he pulled out of you. A moment’s reprieve before his fingers stretched you all over again. He wound you tighter, and tighter, sending that fire racing through your veins.

“I can’-” you cried out, a threatening wave of pleasure and pain coursing through you. “Please let me cum, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” tears were wet against your cheek as he played with you.

“You promise, little bird?”

“Yes! Yes I promise!” you begged.

After all that time of keeping your hands on the perimeter of the mirror, your third and final orgasm had them flying to Keigo’s hair for stable purchase as it overtook you. Your sobs filled the room as your rode out the final orgasm, your chest heaving in shuddering breaths as Keigo worked you through it, held onto your body tightly to keep you from collapsing. Your legs were soaked, your nether region slick from top to bottom. Keigo pulled his fingers from inside you, slick and thick coated with both of your bodily fluids. His eyes met yours through the mirror as those fingers dipped between your lips, pushing them onto the flat of your tongue as you lapped and sucked them clean. Only when he was satisfied you’d gotten every last drop of each other’s cum, did Keigo pull his fingers from your mouth.

“You did so good, little bird.” he cooed in your ear, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your ear as he placed gentle kisses to sweat-soaked hair. Brushed away the tears on your cheeks. “Such a good girl,” he said, a hand smoothing over the places he’d bitten and marked you. Lips gentle as he pressed chaste kisses to the place on his jaw where his talons pricked you. The feral need for Keigo to fuck you into oblivion was satiated for now, his touch now gentle as he caressed and soothed you, the aftershocks of an overstimulated orgasm lessening as time lapsed. He was pleased that your scent now, was so heavily mixed of him and that perfume. No one was going to act as Hound Dog had, especially now. His lips were soft against your temple, his thumbs tender against the curve of your shoulders. It was a scent he was immediately fond of, and a scent he’d do anything to protect, to maintain. Keigo hummed, folding you up into the safety of his arms, surrounded by nothing but contentedness.

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ovumgravidus · 2 years

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You should get a neighbor to drive you to the hospital. Y’all hit some traffic and your grunts and moans get a bit louder, though you assure them it’s nothing. Before long though, you’re crowning again. No stopping now, you’re almost to the hospital, better hold it if you don’t want to have your second baby in the car.

I can't afford an ambulance ride, there was a reason I was working so close to my due date, otherwise I would have considered calling one once I got off the bus. I look like shit, naked and with my hair half out of the ponytail I'd had it in earlier, to say nothing of the mess between my legs and the baby still connected to me via its umbilical cord. It's deeply uncomfortable as I cut and tie the cord off, cleaning her off a bit then wrapping her in the softest towel I can find before pulling on one of the few maternity dresses I own, as well as a fresh pair of underwear and a pad even if I pass on putting on a bra.

The Librarian nearly faints when I knock on her door looking like I do, harried and holding a squirming pink newborn in a faded towel, baby bag hanging off one shoulder. Before she can spiral too much into a panic I ask, almost beg for her to drive me to the hospital, and thankfully she readily says yes. I'm so sore that going down the stairs feels almost as bad as going up, but she guides me down as gently as she can, and by the time we get to her car I'm shaking like a nervous deer. I can't even bother to be embarrassed that she puts a towel down before I sit in the passengers seat, too sore to close my legs fully but eventually we're both situated in her car and getting on the way to the hospital.

"I thought I'd heard something from your apartment, but I thought it was Braxton hicks you were having, not the actual baby!"

"Believe me, I thought labor would take a lot longer than it actually did." To say nothing of how I was probably in labor most of the day and didn't fully realize it till my water broke.

"Did you intend to have a home birth, then?" She asks, trying not to show her stress in this strange situation. I'm going to have to apologize big time, later for all this.

"No, not at all, I wanted to be at the hospital, guess this little bugger couldn't wait, though."

Another cramp makes me whine, and her eyes widen even as she tries to focus on the road. I notice, belatedly, that there's a decent amount of traffic slowing down the highway ahead of us. We both groan as she checks her phone, informing me that it's going to be at least twenty minutes until we get to the ER.

"Have you got the placenta out already, then?"

"No, didn't seem to be in much rush, funnily enough."

"Okay, as long as you don't do that in my car..."

What cruel irony it is then that it's that moment I feel a shifting in my body, specifically, that very familiar feeling of something pressing down onto my bruised and battered cervix. I suck in a breath, legs widening unconsciously as my cervix gives away much easier than it had the first time, and I feel something moving down into my vaginal canal, though it seems bigger and harder than I'd expect the placenta to be.

I'm able to hide my pains for the next few minutes, biting the inside of my cheek as the mass moves down, pretending that the bumps of the road are aggravating my soreness instead of the true reason. The Librarian and I chat quietly, my baby asleep in my arms, she's probably used to the noises of transit after I spent my pregnancy working and riding the bus.

A whimper is what gives me away to the Librarian as a quiet moment between us is interrupted by my noise of pain. I curl forwards as the cramps wrack my body, and she almost frantically alternates between looking at the road and looking at me like I'm about to implode. Just behind my pussy lips I can feel something waiting, and I squeak as I feel a shifting again inside me, almost as if the mass is trying to get out.

"I have to, ngh, check again...." I grit out, holding my baby in one arm as dread fills my body, my free hand pulling up my dress and fingers reaching down into my vagina.

The Librarian gapes at me, shock clear on her features even more so than before. "Please, please don't push the damn placenta out onto my car floor."

My face goes white as my fingers meet the thing inside, a large spherical mass, covered in slimy wet hair. "..... Not the placenta. Another head."

I don't hear much of the next thing she says, my body returning in full force to bring this baby out of me. It only takes moments for my lips to begin to spread again, and my neighbor whisper shouts at me as I groan and spread my legs unwittingly.

"No, no no no, you are NOT having a baby in my car, we're getting to the hospital first! Can't you hold it in?!"

"Don't you think I tried that the first time? Fuck!"

The argument goes nowhere, of course, my neighbor too panicked by the whole situation and me doing my best to focus on doing this for the second time today. I breathe deeply, try not to push even as my body demands it, but by the time we're through the traffic, I can feel and see the baby's head pressing out from between my legs even under the maternity dress I'm wearing. I groan and sweat uncontrollably, trying so hard not to give birth in the poor Librarians car.

Fuck, I don't think I'm going to make it to the hospital this time either, I bemoan to myself. I can feel liquid seeping out of me and drenching the towel underneath my legs, at least the car won't be too messed up. Another strong contraction makes me gasp as the head pressed out even more. I'm fully crowning again, I can feel the surprise baby's head touching both of my thighs, but still it hasn't popped out of me yet.

Will we make it to the hospital before this one is born, at least?

#the commuter #car birth #wonder whatll happen here #will we make it to the hospital?#will the librarian get desperate and shove the head back in the commuter?#or against all efforts will the commuter give birth in their poor neighbors car?#tune in next time at whatever the fuck this is

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cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖ — summary: porco wasn't surprised when you called him at three in the morning because you were too drunk to drive back to your place. he would always be there when you needed, both as your best friend and the guy who was completely head over heels for you. and both of them were sure zeke jaeger was cheating on you.

✖ — pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖ — tags/warnings: so far it’s sfw but rating will change in future chapters, college au, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, unrequited love, cheating, toxic relationships, friends to lovers

chapter one: save your love

“Thanks for picking me up, Pock. You didn’t have to.”

“Tch. Of course I did,” Porco replied, putting his arm on the back of your seat on his car and reversing, getting out of the bar’s parking lot. You took your time observing him and noticed the bags under his eyes. You shouldn’t have been surprised. What were you expecting when you called him at 3 am asking him to pick you up from the bar because you were too drunk to drive home?

Porco rested his arm on the open window of his car, his other hand handling the wheel with ease. There were very few cars on the highway and the chilly air refreshed your body just right, making the ride home a lot more comfortable than you pictured. You closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of safeness you always felt whenever your best friend was around, plus the sweet dizziness on your head from the vodka and Porco’s cologne.

“What did the fucker do this time?”

It didn’t last long.

“He didn’t do a thing.”

Porco scoffed. “Yeah, right. Are you really going to pretend you didn’t end up in that bar because of what Zeke’s ‘friend’ just posted on her Instagram?”

“Porco, please.”

“What was the caption again? Oh, right. ‘Movie night’, devil face emoji, fire emoji,” he recalled with a snicker, his eyes fixated on the road. “She even tagged him on it, her legs resting on his lap and shit. Was it the same girl he took to the cat shelter for some ‘volunteer work’ last week or another?”

You didn’t answer. You knew Porco already knew who she was.

“She’s very pretty,” you mused. “It makes sense.”

“Please, have you looked at yourself?” Porco asked, taking a right turn.

Jokingly, you took the rearview mirror and angled it towards you. Your mascara was a little worn off and there were only traces of the red lipstick you had put on before heading to the bar. Your hair was messy as well and you look like you desperately needed a bottle of water.

“I look like shit,” you laughed, putting the mirror back to its original place.

“Shut the fuck up, you look good.”

“Pock, look at me. Whatever is going on here,” you said, gesturing at your face, “ain’t good. If you think so, your taste is really lacking.”

Porco chuckled, eliciting a soft smile from you.

“I like to think I have really good taste.”

“If we’re being serious, you have way too high standards,” you yawned, extending your arms and feeling some cracks on your back.

“How so?” he inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since I know you, which is what— a year?”

“And?”

“And I’m starting to think you’re afraid of commitment. Maybe you’re just afraid of a relationship,” you shrugged.

“Are you done, Freud?” he teased, sparing a quick glance at you before looking back at the road again.

“All I’m saying is you’ve had both beautiful girls and boys at your disposition and you have never even tried to date them. Well, no, my bad, you did take this one girl on a date. And what happened next?”

Porco chuckled. “Look, it’s not like that, we just didn’t click and—”

“You told her you were better off as friends and to this day I haven’t listened to a solid reason as to why you would drop such a pretty girl like her.”

“She just didn’t have what I was looking for,” he shrugged innocently.

“See what I mean? Unbelievable high standards. None of us is worthy of the mighty Porco Galliard, the lacrosse team captain who can fit seventeen marshmallows inside his mouth.”

Both of you broke in laughter, not caring about waking up someone from the houses alongside the road. You looked around and immediately recognized the neighbourhood, your laugh ceasing immediately. You patted Porco’s arm, trying to get his attention.

“Can you turn left at the next intersection?”

“We need to keep straight to get to your place.”

“I want to go to Zeke’s for a minute.”

Porco’s face twisted into a scowl. “Why would you want to go to him right now?”

“I— he told me he was watching movies by himself. I just want to check on him, we don’t even have to step off the car.”

“Hey,” he said sternly, catching your attention. “Don’t do this. You saw her Instagram post, you know what happened between those two. Are you really going to believe him after you just saw fucking evidence?”

“I know him,” you insisted. “He wouldn’t just flat out lie to me, not like that.”

“And the photo from tonight? How do you explain that?”

You took a deep breath, a sharp pain in your head making you close your eyes tightly.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Please, just— drive past his house. If his lights are out, then he must be sleeping after watching those movies by himself, just like he told me so.”

Porco scoffed.

“Porco, please,” you pleaded, squeezing his arm as you got closer and closer to the intersection. “Please.”

Rolling his eyes, Porco turned left as you asked him to and started driving to Zeke’s house, following your instructions. He didn’t try to come up with conversation again, instead, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he pulled up crossing the street, a couple of houses away from your target.

Your heart immediately relaxed when you looked at Zeke’s window: the lights were off. You let out a long, tired sigh, letting your forehead rest on the glove compartment of Porco’s car.

“I don’t understand you,” Porco sneered, resting his chin on his hand, his elbow pressed on the open window of his car. “Him having the lights off means nothing, he could—”

Porco turned to you as you sat back up, your eyes meeting his. He bit his tongue, silently cursing and looked at his wheel, setting both his hands on it.

“He could what?” you insisted.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, passing a hand through his hair. “His lights are off. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you whispered, sitting back against his passenger seat and getting comfortable.

Right when Porco was reaching for his keys, a noise in the quiet neighbourhood startled you. Both of you raised their heads as a black car passed alongside them and parked in front of Zeke’s house. A tall, blonde girl exited the same house, accompanied by none other than your boyfriend. You recognized her as Yelena, who had begun appearing more and more frequently in his pictures at the same time he started posting less and less about you.

Zeke walked her to the car and you watched in horror as she pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips before getting in the car. He closed the door after her and patted the roof of the car twice before sending her off. Porco gripped the wheel tightly as Zeke stretched his arms and walked back home, dragging his feet without a care in the world.

Sighing, Porco turned to you, who were already dialling Zeke’s number.

“No, c’mon,” he said, trying to take your phone away but you swatted his hand away, putting a finger on top of your lips, asking for silence.

“Hey baby,” you greeted in your fake, cheery voice. Porco couldn’t believe after spending two years with you, Zeke couldn’t realize that when your voice got too high-pitched, it meant you were faking every word. “Yeah, I know it’s late. Sorry. Sorry. Yes, I just— I know. I know it’s too late to call.”

Porco could feel his blood boiling at every apology that came out of your mouth even after witnessing Yelena leaving his house not even five minutes ago.

“I just wanted to ask how you were doing? Were the movies fun?” you made a pause, your smile tight on your face. “Ah, I see. Wasn’t it boring to watch all by yourself?” you pressed and not even you could maintain your smile after hearing his response. “Mhm, I do know you prefer to watch movies alone. Anyway, it is quite late. Talk to you later, I love—”

You looked at the screen on your phone and noticed the call had already ended.

“Well, there’s that,” you mused to yourself before putting your phone back on your jeans.

Silently, Porco started his car again, driving away from the suburbs and heading to your place as he had intended in the first place. The comforting silence was now poisonous, his eyes flicking from the road every minute to check on you, who was looking outside the window with your eyes lost. your mind probably too full of thoughts that he couldn’t begin to understand.

It didn’t mean he didn’t want to, though.

He kept driving in silence until he reached your apartment, parking in his usual spot. He left the engine running, even if you knew he always waited until you entered the building to drive away. He unlocked the doors and let out a long sigh.

“Drink some water before getting to bed,” Porco reminded you, both his hands on the wheel.

You didn’t move a muscle, eyes lost on his glove compartment, the events of the night running around your head. Yelena’s Instagram photo. Zeke’s text telling you he was alone. Him kissing her goodnight at 2 am.

“Hey,” he called, startling you. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth but then closed it, not knowing where to start. You pursed your lips and tugged at your fingers in discomfort.

“Talk to me,” Porco insisted.

“Can you stay tonight?” you asked in a small voice. “Annie is out and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

Before you could finish your sentence, Porco was already killing the engine.

It was a silent walk to your apartment. You checked yourself in the elevator's mirror, realizing how awful you truly looked. Your eyeliner was smudged along with your mascara and the bags under your eyes were more noticeable than ever. As you inspected your face, Porco grabbed your cheek between his thumb and index, playfully pulling it from side to side until you were laughing, asking him to stop.

When you entered your apartment, you immediately walked to the bathroom, in deep necessity of a shower. Porco knew your apartment like the back of his hand, so after a quick detour to the kitchen, he made his way to your bedroom. He saw your laptop on your bed, messy sheets and clothes on the floor, probably how you had left it after seeing Yelena’s post on Instagram and decided to go to your favourite bar and forget about it for a while.

Porco took off his shoes and started picking up your clothes and put them on your spare chair, your laptop now on your desk. While he made your bed, he listened to you using your hairdryer in the bathroom and figured you would be out soon. He took out his phone from his pocket and looked at this schedule. It was already four in the morning and he had classes at nine. It was okay, he told himself. He had a hoodie in his car he could change into the next morning, and no one would say anything about him arriving in sweatpants. Well, no one that cared enough about their reputation to try and make fun of one of the golden boys of the university, at least.

You stepped off your bathroom already wearing your pyjamas, a tank top and small cotton shorts. Being friends with Porco for so long, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas but it was truly the first time he saw you so small while wearing them. Maybe it was because of everything that happened that night, your tired eyes or the way you were standing, but Porco had to fight off the urge to put his arms around your body and protect you. From what? He wasn’t quite sure.

He handed you a bottle of water he had grabbed from the kitchen and you drank it all in one try.

“The only true secret to avoid being hungover tomorrow,” he reminded you.

“I know,” you smiled, leaving the empty bottle on your desk. “C’mon, let's get to bed.”

Porco had slept with you before, sure. You had travelled to the beach together with some friends and your sleeping bags were always put next to each other, which only prompted you to talk all night, telling each other embarrassing stories from your younger years. You had also fallen asleep in Porco’s dorm before, after a party that left you too tired to go back to your place. He would always let you crash on his bed and you slept soundly, knowing you were safe if he was around.

Zeke had never liked that. But Porco couldn’t care less.

He got into bed first, scooting to the wall and making space for you. You laid next to Porco, facing him and sighed happily when your head finally hit your pillow

“Thanks for making the bed, Pock,” you smiled.

“Why are you still with him?”

You averted his gaze, your smile dropping in an instant. “I love him,” you muttered.

“Do you? Do you really love someone who is lying to you like this?” he insisted. You felt a knot forming on your throat. “You understand he was fucking Yelena, right?”

You nodded softly, hugging the pillow under your head.

“Then why waste your time with an asshole like him? What are you waiting for, what do you want him to do so you finally leave him? What’s your tipping point, huh?”

Porco’s voice was gentle yet firm as he tried to get to you. He watched you as you laid still, not willing to answer any of his questions. He wondered if maybe you didn’t want to know the answer either.

“You’re smart. You’re— fuck, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Why are you letting him treat you like garbage? Why are you allowing him to hurt you like this?”

Once again, he was met with silence.

“You’re are fun, beautiful and yet you’re drunk at 4 am on a fucking Wednesday because your boyfriend is cheating on you and not only that— he’s fucking her and letting everyone know. Why are you doing this to yourself?” he inquired, his voice getting a little desperate. “You should be with someone who treats you right, who— fuck, someone who knows how much you’re worth. Someone who would never hurt you like this.”

You couldn’t suppress a cold laugh.

“Yeah, like who?” you scoffed, nuzzling your face on your pillow.

“Like me.”

You snapped your head to Porco, eyes open wide and lips parted, trying to form words.

“W-what?”

You looked at Porco, his eyes looking intensely at you. He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, almost to himself, shifting on the bed and propping up on his elbow, his body still facing yours. “I said what I said. I… I love you. Have loved you for quite some time now,” he admitted. You watched heat rising to his cheeks, tinting them deep red.

“I— I love you too,” you said softly. “You know that. I always tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life and that I—”

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I don’t love you as a friend,” Porco muttered, rolling his eyes.

You stayed in silence, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your eyes scanned the bed sheets between both your bodies. Even if Porco was being crystal clear with his words regarding his feelings towards you, somehow it didn’t make sense in your head.

“Why?” you whispered.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why do you… well—”

“Why do I love you?” Porco asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched you nod softly. “Well, ‘cause it’s you. Ever since we met, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, your weird sense of humour and your irrational fear of panda bears,” he said, making both of you laugh, helping in releasing the tension both of you were carrying since his confession. “C’mon, you honestly thought I was so full of myself I didn’t think anyone was worthy of dating me? Fuck, I—,” he let out an honest chuckle, passing a hand through his hair. “I was just in love with you. And trust me, it’s not fun going out on a date with someone when all you can think is ‘Oh, she’d love this place’ or ‘I would be having much more fun if she was here instead’.”

“You really did that?” you asked in a small voice.

Porco smirked, cocking his head towards you. You knew his confession was playing a big part but you couldn’t stop noticing how handsome he truly was. Sure, you had always known he was good-looking, you knew this when you teased him for not going out with other people, but you never realized how truly beautiful he was.

Looking at him lying on your bed, the moonlight coming from your open window and hitting his face, it was as if you were looking at him for the first time, noticing the smallest details you had been ignoring for so long. Like how his eyes weren’t hazel but golden and that he had a few freckles on his cheekbones, decorating his slightly tanned skin. His lips also looked soft, even for someone who had woken up in the middle of the night to pick up their drunk friend. The white t-shirt he was wearing exposed his toned arms, making you feel the need to bury your face on his chest so he could put them around you.

You hadn’t realized you were moving forward until you felt Porco’s hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting closer. You should have known you wouldn’t have been able to notice his freckles from afar. Porco’s eyes went from your lips back to your eyes and you sensed how bad he was rethinking his choices as he gently pushed you back on the bed.

“Listen, I—” he started, his blush only getting more noticeable, now making the tip of his nose turn red as well. “I’m not going to be your rebound, neither someone who you fuck out of spite or to get back at your boyfriend. Fuck, I don’t even know why I told you this,” he sighed, putting down his propped arm and laying his cheek on the pillow next to you. “Just… do better. For yourself. You deserve much more than that monkey man who hasn’t realized he’s a four dating a ten.”

You giggled at his remark and he smirked, proud of himself. Porco and you looked at each other’s eyes, a soft smile lingering on your lips. Tentatively, you reached for his hair, his golden locks feeling soft under your touch. Porco stayed still as you played with his hair, even closing his eyes as you did so.

After a few moments, your hand travelled to his cheek, making him open his eyes again. Your thumb gently stroked his skin, soft and tender under your touch. Porco’s eyes were fixed on your face as you caressed him silently. Your other fingers started running over his skin with a feather-like touch, entrapped in the sweet moment between the two of you.

Porco turned his head just enough for his mouth to meet your palm. He pressed a kiss on it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your heart skipping a beat and a smile creeping on your face.

“Can I hug you?” you asked in a whisper.

Porco nodded, opening his arms for you. You scooted closer to him, sliding your right arm around his waist, bending your other arm and flushing your head against his chest. Your legs tangled together, not taking too long before finding a comfortable position.

Once you were settled, Porco’s left arm draped around your body, pulling you closer to him gently. He pushed his right arm under your pillow, loving how easy it felt to be like this with you. It was as if you were always meant to sleep like this, with your face against his chest and your hand on his back. He looked down at you and pushed some of your hair away from your face

“Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, taking a deep breath and sighing contently against his chest. Porco’s cologne filled your senses and you couldn’t help but smile at the homely feeling.

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Goodnight,” he whispered, closing his eyes. You imitated him and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

...

When Porco opened his eyes the next morning, he felt as if only a couple of seconds had passed since he had closed his eyes. He sighed. Well, it wasn’t the first time that he had sleeping problems but a part of him innocently hoped it would change after he got to sleep by your side. He looked at your sleeping face. It was way too innocent from him to think just because he got to rest by your side he would have had a good sleep.

He looked down at your sleeping face and couldn’t help but smile a little. He recalled the moment you leaned into him, searching for a kiss before he had to push you away. Porco exhaled, his eyes travelling to your lips. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to kiss the girl of his dreams— hell, he had dreamt about that for almost a year now.

But not like that. Never like that.

Porco took his phone on your bedside table and checked the time. Seven in the morning. He yawned, burying his face in the pillow. He hated his inability to go back to sleep after he had already woken up. His first class was in three hours and while you didn’t have any classes in the morning, he knew you would probably wake up regretting having drunk so much the night before.

Carefully, he pulled away from you and headed to the kitchen. You had mentioned Annie was going to be out and he figured either she hadn’t come home yet or she was asleep as well. Just in case, he tried to be extra silent while preparing coffee. He thanked Annie was the closest thing to a coffee connoisseur he knew, because he couldn’t help but let out a happy hum when the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

As he watched the coffee drip on your mug, he leaned on the counter, his mind going back to the night he’d spent on your bed. How your fingers traced his hair, how your hand felt against his cheek and the way you looked at him when he kissed your palm. Even if he had stopped you from kissing him, somehow the tender moment you shared had felt even more intimate. Like it was always supposed to be like that: just you and him.

It wasn’t until several minutes later that Porco realized he had been smiling the whole time. He had told you he loved you. You hadn’t pushed him away after knowing how he really felt about you— not only that, you had shown him tenderness by cuddling with him the whole night. Even if Porco was aware things were far more complicated than that moment, he also knew it was a step in the right direction. He could almost see you sitting on the counter in front of him, morning light hitting your face and your legs swinging while you looked at him with a soft smile.

A shuffling noise made Porco snap out of his daydreaming. He peeked from the kitchen door, thinking Annie was back home but instead he found you stepping out of the room, wearing shorts and a big hoodie while you checked your phone.

“Thought you didn’t have class until later today,” Porco said, walking into the living room and startling you.

“Hey Pock— and no, I— Zeke called. He said he wants to talk, that he needs me, so I… I called an Uber, I’m going to his place now.”

“Are you serious right now?”

You looked into his eyes and immediately back to the floor, his glare too full of the truth for you to endure.

“The Uber is waiting,” you said in a small voice. “Thanks for… driving me home and staying. I have to go.”

In silence, Porco watched you walk past him to your apartment door and carefully close it behind you. A part of him wanted to think it was nothing but a joke from your part, that you would open the door any second now.

The song of the coffee machine turning off let him know he should have known better than to hope.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #porco angst #porco fluff #porco galliard angst #porco galliard fluff #aot porco #snk porco #porco #porco galliard x you #porco x you

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feliix · 3 years

Text

Perfect Score ↠ Han Jisung

↠ Jisung x Reader (feat. Felix)

↠ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fake Dating!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 14.9k

↠ Summary: As you return home to work at your local coffee shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of love, but it’s Jisung’s mission to make you change your mind in just two weeks time.

↠ Warnings: idiots 2 lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, fingering, soft sex, language, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships

“That's disgusting.”

You grimace in the most subtle way as you watch the man across the shop press a gentle kiss on the cheek of the woman next to him. For some reason your shop is packed with couples this evening. Not that you’ve been counting, but they’re probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this just this shift alone.

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t too far from the truth. Every time you’ve been burned by someone in the past has only made your hope about love deteriorate. Relationships suck. Already been there, done that, and you don’t plan on doing it again.

You’ve always stuck by the same theory; relationships either lead to heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage may still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jisung laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he rounds the corner. He’s just in time to catch your snide remark, surely it won’t be the last one you’ll make tonight though. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy to say the least. The sun has already set, and it’s the afternoon rush when everyone comes in for their second daily dose of caffeine. And it’s definitely necessary – especially on a day as hot and exhausting as this one. It’s the third day that its been over 100º in a row and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Jisung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath. In your mind it absolutely isnt. Its a mystery why all these people need to publicly display their affection in a coffee shop anyway...

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss has always been kind of an asshole, just leaving 2 kids in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. There's always been an aching suspicion that he just goes to the bar across the street, since his car is still parked behind the shop but he’s always nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than him looming over your shoulder and criticizing your technique the whole shift.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Jisung shakes his head.

In stark contrast to yourself, Han Jisung is quite the hopeless romantic. So much so that he tends to search for love in all the wrong places. Maybe a better way to describe it is that Jisung has a series of flings. He’s not shy to test the waters of any girl he comes across – and there are many, many waters that he’s tested. Lucky you gets to hear all about each one, being his friend and all.

But to your good friend’s demise, his ‘relationships’ never end up working out for very long. Theres always some kind of fatal flaw that’s a means to an end. Whether it was Jisung’s fault or the girls, it’s always confused you why he could never hold onto something longer than a couple months. Jisung is a great guy, it didn’t make sense.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left. The night has been dragging on since you stepped foot in the door and heard the little jingle as it opened. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d only made it through half your shift thus far.

“Just under an hour. Want to start the closing checklist so we can get outta here?” Jisung offers, reaching for the rag and sanitation bucket at the end of the counter.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave no later than at 8 o’clock on the dot.

Luckily, closing tonight goes as smoothly as it possibly can. You and Jisung are ready to get out of there at 8 on the dot, thanks to your determination to mop like a mad woman and stock the front as fast as humanly possible.

The air outside feels crisper than usual. Maybe its because you’ve been locked up in a small room that smells like coffee beans for 10 hours, but you’ll never get enough of the night air.

“So what are we doing tonight?”Jisung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was planning on going home and getting some rest…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. Jisung always goes out after your weekend shifts and never lets up on convincing you to tag along. So you can’t look at him, his eyes are much too convincing make contact with, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Gah you’re so boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot to ruffle the hair on top of your head, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, smoothing down your hair as a pout forms on your lips. The suggestive smirk settling across Jisung’s face is telling; he knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to turn him down or fish for another excuse. So you tilt your head, subtly rolling your eyes as you wait for him to explain what his big plans for tonight are.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

Accepting defeat, you shoot him a thumbs up before turning to get into your car. Asking any more questions would take away any time you had to wash up – and smelling like coffee beans any longer is going to drive you up a wall since it hasn't already.

It doesn’t take much time for you to rush home and get ready, and before you know it Jisung is there to pick you up. Only a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course and right on time in Jisung terms.

The car ride to your destination feels like a blur with how exhausted you are. So when you end up at your favorite boba spot, you immediately perk up. Those tapioca pearls always manage to give you a second wind.

But when Jisung decides to take a seat at one of the round tables just outside the shop instead of getting back in the car you know somethings up. You were expecting to hop back in the passenger seat of his car, maybe listen to some music for a while and drive around to kill time.

Initially he doesn’t say much. His legs just bounce hyperactively while he fidgits with the straw of his drink. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up; his eyes staring down at the cup in front of him instead of sipping from it, lip caught between his teeth.

The energy is off. Not only did you expect to hang out and do something adventurous like Jisung normally would, but now you’re watching his cheeks grow red while avoiding conversation.

Awkward silence becoming too much to bear, you take matters into your own hands. “So how are things going with that girl?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “she didn’t really work out.”

Unsurprised by his response, you just nod along. Its always to expect since he’s the pickiest person you’ve ever met. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh, and then the one before that didn’t like cheesecake. There always seems to be a laundry list of deal-breakers tied along to each one of Jisung’s relationships, and that is something you’ll always expect.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, and you’ve never understood the point of to putting all your effort into something like that. There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyebrows furrowing in response, hands gripping his thighs in anticipation

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are kind of just a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway, Y/N?”

Now thats a response that you are not prepared for. The question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Jisung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and just answer his question, as uncomfortable as it is.

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your cup once again.

“Not every guy is a dead-beat.”

His words carry a harsh bite to them, almost as if he finds you’ve said offensive. It burns his ego a bit, assuming that you’re grouping him in with all the guys you’ve been with in the past. Which is strange, Jisung should know that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You aren’t able to talk to guys, or most people for that matter, in the same way that you talk to Jisung. He’s the one you rant about all the assholes to. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence his expression changes, Jisung’s eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you haven’t seen very often, and you can’t say that you’ll ever get used to it.

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Jisung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words fall from his tongue, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle slips past his lips. Instinctively your stomach tightens, the air around you now feeling a bit heaver each second time ticks on. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do? I think it could be fun.”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “if it works then I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Jisung. And Jisung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your boba from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“Wait, you're like dating dating the Han Jisung?” Felix’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on his face as you spill about your night with Jisung.

Felix is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Jisung of course. Not that he shares the hatred himself, he’s just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know just how you felt. He’s only heard about it every day for the past several summers.

Felix is your best friend, other than Jisung of course. He’s also the only person in this world that you could bear to work with on a Saturday morning.

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the containers on the counter. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday morning, only a handful of customers have come in so far and it's already 11 am.

That’s the thing about working at a coffee shop – and it sucks when it's busy, and it sucks even more when it's slow. At least it isn't a terrible job, you at least have Jisung and Felix to keep you company and that's always worthwhile.

“And for the record,” you turn to look at Felix, a grin still evident on his face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind about the love stuff.”

“You know how Jisung is,” his eyebrow lifts, “so you never know. Maybe something could happen.”

If anyone was surprised that you were dating someone, fake relationship or not, it would be Felix. On top of that, you’re dating Han Jisung. As in, the same Jisung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled too much like peaches’ and it was ‘too good to be true.’ And now that you’re the one stuck with him for the next 14 days, it is only a matter of time until he finds the deal-breaking trait that turns him away from you.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. If I know Jisung, he’ll be over it before the 2 weeks even ends.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of his voice is raised teasingly. You can tell he doesn’t believe this will be just a ‘two-week thing’ by the funny little look on his face. You hate that look, and you hate how Felix always seems to be right.

Subsequently Felix sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You’ve grown up with Jisung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Felix, on the other hand, has a different point of view.

He’s not in it like you are, so gets to see the way Jisung looks at you; the way he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth with a sparkle in his eye. He notices that Jisung longs to make you laugh. And he watches the toothy grin each that grows on your face each time a chuckle breaks through your lips. Felix notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is he to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in his mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the clean marble countertop beside you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Jisung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this.

The lack of customers and silence that's fallen among the shop is just making it easier for your mind to wander off. It was beginning to make you sick how much you were thinking about Jisung and nothing has even happened yet. It's not like you have any reason to be nervous, but keeping all these thoughts trapped in your thick skull is starting to give you a headache

“He’s picking me up after work.” You blurt it out without thinking much about it. No one is here, you might as well lay it all out there for Felix to know since there's nothing better to do.

“He’s picking you up? Like you’re going on a date?”

“Shut upppp,” your eyes roll at his teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy the thought of this ‘date’ is making him, and you for that matter. It’s just Jisung. And you are just hanging out like you do every other night. There's nothing different about tonight and you’ll be able to prove that to yourself and Felix by the next time you see him.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Felix. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Jisung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Jisung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8 pm. What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Jisung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Jisung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Jisung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a coherent sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his smile to light up the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the espresso stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth nervously.

Tonight he’s dressed a lot nicer than usual comfy attire; a nice shirt with a pair of dark jeans that hug his slim figure. His hair is a lot lighter too – a vast change from the midnight black strands that normally frame his face. He’s really going all out for this thing – and right now all that you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front.

When you look to your right, Felix is just as stunned as you are. Frozen in his spot as his jaw practically sweeps the floor, he looks at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised as a smug expression crosses his face. For a second you contemplate asking him if he’s all set to finish the closing checklist on his own, but before you’re able to speak up he’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, Jisung hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“So do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips, followed by a slight pull on your heart strings. Knowing he took the time to think about bringing you something else to wear so you didn’t have to sit in your coffee scented clothes all night made you feel warm in the strangest way. He’s thoughtful, and it's weirding you out – but in a good way.

“So, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

A vague yet interesting, and very on-brand response from Jisung. He’s always been a fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination drags on forever. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between your agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time. All you know is that you’ve been driving along the backroads of your area for at least 15 minutes, and there is nothing around you to indicate that your destination is near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing a very good job at their primary function. It's pretty hard to see what’s around you, no matter how hard you squint and press your forehead to the window to get a better look.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Jisung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jisung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Jisung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Jisung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Jisung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Jisung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

But it’s just Jisung. Jisung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Jisung and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Jisung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Jisung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Jisung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the coffee shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Felix teases, letting his chin fall into his palm as he leans on the counter before him, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Jisung chuckles at his nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told Felix all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Jisung felt like the odd man out when you’re all together.

“It was good.”

Jisung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to his imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell – or to not kiss and tell. Keeping his private life all to himself is something he takes pride in, things are just better that way.

“Just good?” Felix challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. His eyes narrow as he waits for his response. You haven’t told him anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end, which left Felix dying to know what actually happened on your ‘date that wasn't a real date.’

Jisung glances back at him, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans. It would be kind of nice to have someone else to confide in. Especially since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this may be the one secret that you don’t know of.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Felix. Not that Jisung would ever want to pry, there's just no indication of how you feel about last night, or about him. Before Jisung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Felix’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – he knows something.

“You like her don’t you,” he muses, rubbing his hands together smooths as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now – and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but it's clear as day to Felix – and that is more than enough to make Jisung worry.

“I don’t,” Jisung denies the other boy’s claim, his willpower too strong to give in.

“Oh yeah? So why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

The words catch Jisung off guard; his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny the claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Felix is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Jisung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you. None of the girls he’s ever met could ever match up to all that you are. In his mind, you held the perfect score, and no one else had ever come close.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know.”

There's no way he’s that obvious... Did his feelings show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Jisung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Felix will follow up with a ‘just kidding’ or change the subject. Only the silence that falls on the room is enough of a response for Jisung to get the clue.

“Just please don’t tell her,” he avoids eye contact with the other boy, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered tile. “I just wanted to see if I could change her mind – about the love stuff, you know?”

The second you find out about Jisung’s feelings all bets would be off. There’s no way you’d let your little arrangement continue, not if either of you could end up hurt. And he knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, it was a deal between two friends. The second feelings get involved, everything gets all mushy and confusing, and Jisung can’t lose you.

Felix bears his weight on the counter behind him, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “Believe me, I want her to be done with that ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” he sighs, looking around momentarily before he clears his throat. “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Jisung’s heart skips a beat once the words leave Felix’s mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers his thoughts. His stomach begins to twist as he considers it, almost confused about what Felix means, but not willing to accept it. You only agreed to fake-date him, you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Felix watching him as his lips roll between his teeth, deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in Jisungs head like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, all for the right reasons of course. So that you don’t have to be so miserable about it anymore.

But behind those selfless reasons are several smaller, selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too. It’d be crazy to ignore the feeling he has deep in his chest, and maybe it's a sign not to.

“Like you think…” Jisung gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Felix gives is ominous, but the raise of his eyebrows and toothy grin forming on his face needs no words to tell.

If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Jisung.

That night Jisung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you could remember it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Jisung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped a cup of iced coffee on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave it there without cleaning anything up or letting you know. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and there were coffee stains stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Jisung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Jisung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got.

It’s been 12 days since you became Jisung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night when two frappuccinos splattered all over the shop floor, whipped cream and all. Spending time with Jisung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Jisung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Jisung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Jisung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Jisung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Jisung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N,” Felix says waving a hand in your face.

You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Jisung?”

“What?” you immediately straighten your posture and brush yourself off before responding, “N-no…I’m just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from his lips, not sparing you any time to save yourself as he turns away, beginning to wipe off the tables in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Felix out of the loop during this whole “fake-boyfriend Jisung” thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Felix the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. And what if all these things that you’re feeling is just a part of the honeymoon-phase. If that even existed anyway… But if all these feelings for Jisung are due to him trying to woo you and change your mind, everything will just fade away as things return back to normal. And then you’ll be left loving him in silence while you watch him blow through relationships like a leaf blows through the wind.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Felix for him to know. Every time Jisung picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide he’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Felix’s eyes. He knows you too well to look over things like this, he just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Felix has decided to take matters into his own hands, asking you about it himself.

“Felix,” you start, waiting for his attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit. Quickly he does, a questioning but knowing look evident on his face as the stool squeaks under him. “You know how this thing between Jisung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

He nods in response, his hand quickly falling into his palm as he listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

His question is more for clarification, he wants to hear you say it yourself. Felix knows that you’re gonna tell him that you’ve already caught feelings. He sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at him. You can feel the grin on his face. You know he's smirking at you right now, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you over the ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face him.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Felix hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on his face can't grow any larger, but it does. He jumps up from his chair in victory, doing a funny dance with his arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Felix smiles, his happy dance subsiding as he positions himself back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.” Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring sounding off on each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the boy sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Felix is your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Jisung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be. Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face and falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles.

A sympathetic sigh leaves Felix’s lips as he tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face him – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank god it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Jisung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something.

It’s not until Felix is rising from his seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Jisung...” he starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Felix is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. He can’t speak for you; but he’s scared that saying nothing could just make this whole situation worse.

His mouth gapes as he searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing while he hums to himself.

The umbrella hanging from Jisung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Felix as he jumps at the sudden sound. But before he is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Jisung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Jisung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Felix. He’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an coffee shop.

After Jisung left, Felix came back and let you know; he almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let him in. He told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Jisung, it hurts enough just thinking about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Jisung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Jisung for god’s sake. He’s your personal diary, he’s the one who knows all the shit that nobody else does. And he’s the only one that listens to all the dumb shit you have to say that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Jisung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Jisung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Jisung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Jisung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Jisung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Felix standing there with an umbrella in his hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

Suddenly, he pushes past you and invites himself into to your living room. Plopping down on your couch, Felix makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to him, plopping down on the next cushion over.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as he hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Jisung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves his lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was he giving it to you, why is he here, and why did he have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” He says sternly, his eyes locked on you as he waits for you to look back at him. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Jisung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Jisung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his mouth gently, a sigh following it before he reaches for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Felix you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to Jisung. You most definitely want to – and if you could, you would. But you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” he sighs, this time more forceful, like he’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.” Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” he mumbles, his eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped. Eyes wide with confusion, you’re begging him to go on, but if he does then Jisung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. It's not up to Felix to tell you what he knows this time.

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” he stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Felix is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Jisung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces.

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Jisung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Jisung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind.

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Jisung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times.

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand.

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Jisung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way.

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story.

Jisung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Jisung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never prys.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him.

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen.

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely.

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate.

“Jisung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say.

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape.

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Jisung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop.

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price.

“Y/N I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Jisung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Jisung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration.

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Jisung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Jisung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten.

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, Jisung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh.

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts.

In a leisurely motion, Jisung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Jisung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his.

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Jisung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body. Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Jisung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him.

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologise,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen eachother naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Jisung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.”

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?”

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Jisung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Jisung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Lucily, Jisung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down.

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Jisung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more.

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks.

In one swift motion, Jisung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction.

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else.

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Jisung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Jisung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it.

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips.

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched.

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Jisung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out.

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Jisung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Jisung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Jisung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge.

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Jisung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full.

You’ve always felt close to Jisung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Jisung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry, I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still holding confidence; his tone never falters.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Jisung.”

Being in love is a dumb concept. All guys suck, relationships are stupid and love is a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Jisung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right infront of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

↠ A/N this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous BTS fic Crush Culture.

#stray kids smut #han jisung smut #kdiner #kwritersworldnet #stayracha #kafenetwork #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #han jisung #jisung x reader #jisung smut #jisung fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #han jisung x reader #skz jisung fanfic #jisung fanfic

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lmaoplsdontlookatme · 3 years

Text

im so obsessed w dads friend bo this got out of hand and is way too long lmao 🥴 thank u @slasherrabbitmadness for letting me dabble w dilf bo 😭🖤🙏🏻

🚫 minors 🚫 sfw

It was the first time you’d visited the shitty little bar in the town where your dad lived, some back end swamp that gave you chills and you were both wondered and disgusted how people could live with so much heat and humidity. You’d been home on summer break from college, staying with your father rather than your mother and while you loved him more than anything, the mosquitoes and constant sweat on your brow was beginning to make you regret your stay.

That was until you found yourself at the only bar in your father’s town, dark and dusty and full of mean looking strangers and you’re sure you’re in a movie. The bartender does’t check your ID when you order yourself a vodka cranberry, but he tilts his head and stares at you long and hard enough that you blush. You’re tucked into the corner of the bar, silently watching its inhabitants while you drank iced vodka over iced vodka - your phone had no service here.

You’re three drinks deep when you buy a pack of cigarettes from the bartender and when you fish your wallet out to pay the rest of your tab to leave, there’s a smooth voice at your side and you give the speaker weary eyes - until you see him, that is. Taller than you, and clearly muscular under his clothes. He’s got a thick neck and a strong jaw and a dirty baseball cap over dark curls - his fingers are dark and covered in what you assume to be old, built up engine grease. A mechanic. He’s got a brow raised at you and you blink up dumbly at him, face heating.

“What?”

The older man’s lips curl into a grin that’s all teeth and your heart skips a beat as he dips down ever so slightly, just right into your personal space.

“Real loud in here, huh? Sorry, was askin if you’d mind if I bum one - left my wallet back in the truck.” He motions over his shoulder and you see his truck outside before giving a nod, offering the tall stranger the pack of cigarettes. His toothy grin shrinks into a side smile and you feel your knees go weak - his deft fingers quickly pack the cartridge before opening the plastic and tossing the garbage onto the bar. He takes a cigarette from your pack and lights it with a match from his pocket before offering it to you - you take it with a slow blink and watch as he lights his own before sliding you back the pack.

“Bo Sinclair. Mechanic for a couple towns over - I own a specialty shop so i’m here pretty often.” He’s got a thick southern drawl that makes your stomach clench and you have to tell yourself to breathe - why the fuck were you going nuts over some backwoods hillbilly? You blamed the vodka, though you knew that it wasn’t the case. Instead, you squeeze your legs together to quench the throb of your clit while you smoke. You offer your name quietly and he repeats it with a satisfied hum before motioning the bartender over. “Double whatever she was havin, and give me a couple of whiskeys too.” The bartender is friendlier with him - /BO/ - than he was with you and your drinks are served promptly and when you take the shot glass and the cool vodka cranberry, you glance up at Bo with drawn brows. “Owner and I know each other. My brother does some work for him now and then.” He finishes his sentence with a wink before tapping his shot glass against yours, urging you in.

It’s a few hours later when you’re thoroughly buzzed and gone through over a pack of cigarettes and your eyes are red and puffy from the weed offered to you and Bo just outside the bar that you find yourself giggling along side of the main road in town, fingers laced loosely with Bo’s as he lets out soft chuckles behind you, eyes dark as he takes in your form. You had every intention of leading Bo back to anywhere you could and fucking the brains out of him, but hesitated when you thought of your father’s small home.

“Hey. Wait. This is, uh. Weird.” Your voice is breathy and you have to stop to laugh, but then you steady yourself as Bo comes close to you, dropping his forehead down against yours and pushing you gently into the shadows of the buildings along the street. You swallow and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and he’s there, hand instantly wrapped around you and lifting you and you’re being pressed against some sort of brick wall with Bo’s hands at your ass. He kisses you harshly and you moan against him, all teeth and tongue while your fingers wrap into the dark curls of his hair and Bo grinds up against you, already hard behind his pants. “Can’t, uh. Go back to mine. My house. It ain’t mine. My uh, my dad is there.” You’re breathy against him as he sucks harsh bruises into your neck and collar while you pant and whine against him. He bites down and you let out a cry, Bo’s hand shooting up to cover your mouth. He sucks in a harsh bruise that you’d have no possibility of hiding and you wonder for a moment if he was a high schooler in a man’s body because who else would leave this many hickies?

He lets you down after a long while and pulls you from the wall and Bo ducks for a moment and you only have a second to catch your breath before he’s lifting you and you’re slung over his shoulder, hands at his ass with your ass at the side of his face. He presses a harsh, bruising nip against your thigh that you’re sure would bruised and you’re being carried away through the dark streets. There’s a noise and Bo grunts and you’re being gently slung into the passenger seat of his truck, old leather still hot from the day earlier.

Bo slides into the seat next to you and while he’s sitting, you can see how hard and thick he is behind his jeans. He shifts his truck into gear and you jump and bounce and you’re on your belly against the bar seat of the truck, face against the rough fabric of Bo’s pants while you whine and groan around him, soaking the front of his pants as much as you could. He’s got a hand in your hair and he occasionally lifts it to shift gears - the ride is smooth and you can feel his eyes on the back of your head and you pant against his fabric hidden cock. You weren’t sure where you were going and the thought crosses your mind that you were totally about to be brutally murdered somewhere and when Bo’s hand tightens in your hair, you groan around him as your clit throbs between your legs and then you don’t care where you’re going, as long as Bo fucks you.

The drive feels like forever but it couldn’t be more than 15 minutes and suddenly the truck stops and Bo pulls you up for a harsh kiss before shoving you back to your side of the truck - you’re out of the door and Bo is at your side in seconds, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you up into his house. It’s big, two story, and there are multiple vehicles outside which leads you to believe that there are others than Bo staying at the house. You wonder briefly if he’s married with children and a sinful shiver runs down your spine. There’s no lock on the door and you follow Bo in quietly. The house is dark and you trip over the edge of a carpet, but Bo is there and he leads you upstairs with his fingers tight around your wrist.

As soon as his bedroom door is closed behind you, Bo’s attitude changes. He’s slower, calmer, a cheshire grin across his face. You’re panting, clit throbbing between your legs, limbs trembling as you sink to the floor and drop to your knees, staring up at Bo. “Wanna suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is low and Bo’s grin only widens at your words - he’s quick with his jeans, popping the button and flicking down his fly to shimmy them down his legs. He’s thick behind his underwear and you watch him rub over himself with dark eyes staring down at you, panting against the warm bedroom air. You reach up and tug Bo’s underwear down his thighs, letting out a slutty little moan as his cock comes free - he’s thick, thicker than anything you’ve had before, and he’s got enough length that you have to use two hands to jerk him off. Bo hisses above you as you press sloppy wet kisses along his shaft, lubing him up while you tug and massage at his balls with one hand, the other balled into a fist at your lap.

He doesn’t give you long to get used to him, not before he’s got his hands at the sides of your head with his own slammed back behind him into the door, hips tilted forward as he fucks your throat. You’re doing what you can to take it, both hands at his thighs while you choke and gag around him, drool and spit and pre puddling under the two of you. He’s fucking loud above you, airy chuckles and panting your name and you’re so surprised that he’s so expressive and it only turns you on, humming around Bo as he assaults your throat. That makes him stutter and you can see his thighs clench around you and his fingers tighten painfully in your hair as he chokes. He stays like this for only a few seconds before yanking your head back with a growl. You pop off of him as you choke, coughing painfully and spitting against his carpet. You’re given only a moment before Bo’s hands are under your arms and he’s lifting you like you’re a fucking child - you’re tossed back onto his bed and he lifts his hand to circle his finger, indicating for you to flip. You comply immediately, hands under you to open your own pants and you’re shimmying out of them when Bo is there behind you, face pressed into the ass of your underwear as he licks and nips at you from beneath the fabric. You whine and push back against him, using the leverage to get your knees under you and you find yourself face down in a stranger’s pillows that smelled like way too much Old Spice and there was so much warmth between your legs that you thought you might drown and die.

Bo’s fingers are there along with his tongue and he works your wet cunt open from behind, humming against you as you moan and writhe and pant into his bed, a hand behind you in his hair while the other grips the blankets desperately for something, anything. The thick fingers inside of you speed up and you press back against him and he sucks and licks at your clit and you cum harder than you remember ever having in your life, knees shaking as Bo fucks you through it, lapping your orgasm soaking around his fingers. He doesn’t break, only shifts his hand so he can slip a third finger inside of you and you stretch around him, delirious with sex as you push back against him with your sluttiest of moans. You can hear him behind you, panting and letting out small whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god damn’ and then suddenly it’s not enough as you clench and whine hard at Bo, shaming your hips and ass, inviting, begging him to fuck you.

He pulls back and is gone for a moment and you try to catch your breath, repositioning yourself on your knees with your ass up and hips spread, how you to like to be fucked deep and harsh. You hear plastic and he’s putting on a condom thankfully, though with this much heat in your belly it was hard to care if he had one or not.

“Look at you, just beggin for it. Fancy little city slut desperate to get fucked in my bed.” Bo’s tone is harsh and you moan loud at his words, his accent thicker in his lust and when he grabs your hips and pulls you back, you let out a small yelp in surprise. You’re expecting Bo to plunge into you, to be taken brutal and harsh but the head of his cock is at your cunt and you hold your breath as he slowly, slowly sinks in. He’s fucking thick and you gasp at the burn and stretch, eyes wide against the bed. He feels like he could split you in two on his cock alone and you press back into him suddenly, fulling seating yourself against his hips with his thick length buried deep in your pussy, deep enough to feel his throbbing head against your cervix. You moan, low and long around Bo and he picks up his pace then, drawing back with his cock nearly spilling out of you and then he’s back with a sharp snap of his hips - you cry out at the second assault in your belly and then he sets his rhythm, rolling his hips to snap harshly into you and pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust.

You don’t know how long you’re bent over and fucked like this, Bo groaning and brutal behind you, hips already marked with countless bruises in the shape of his fingers and you’re so sweaty, a pool under you where Bo fucks into you and you leak around him. You’re sobbing into his sheets, bouncing your hips back to meet him with each thrust and Bo gets louder as he spanks you harshly - on his fourth slap, he grabs your cheeks in a hard knead before picking up his pace, bucking into you and chasing his own pleasure, using your cunt like a fleshlight as he chases his own pleasure with your body. Onetwothree pumps and he pulls out of you with a slick sound and your knees collapse under you, a cry passed your lips from the sudden loss of contact and then Bo’s fingers are under your shoulder and you’re being flipped. You obediently sit up on your elbows and open your mouth with your tongue out, eyes locked on Bo’s and he yanks off the condom just in time to finish against your face - thick, warm ropes of cum that splash into your mouth, over your lips, across your neck and into your hair. You moan and lick him cum from your lips, hiding the wince at his bitter taste.

Bo falls asleep quickly afterwards, snoring and with an arm slung over your back. You lie awake and watch him in awe - he’s the first older man you’d ever slept with, and he fucked you better than boys your age did. You sigh and crawl out from under him, pulling your pants back up. The walk back to town and to your own car is long, a good hour, and you’re so sore when you get back to the bar that you slump against your car for a moment before settling in. You flip down your mirror and take a look at yourself and blush at the dark teeth marks and bruises littering high on your neck and down your collar. There’s no chance you’d be able to cover them and you sigh to your fate of having to explain to your father why you have hickies in your 20s.

The next morning you’re sore in places you didn’t know you could be sore - you rubbed your clit in the shower and came to the thought of an old hillbilly who probably wasn’t even that cute, you were only wearing beer goggles. Your dad doesn’t say anything about the bruises on your neck, but you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eyes. You’re red in embarrassment throughout the morning and when your dad suggests you get out of town rather than staying cooped up in the house, you gladly take his keys and drive the two of you to town, old truck chugging along. Your father didn’t like your car, said it was too small and hard for him to get in and out of, so you learned stick so you could drive him comfortably in his own truck.

The two of you eat at a diner that serves you greasy biscuits and gravy but their coffee is halfway decent so you sit with your father and enjoy a companionable silence. It’s broken by a loud, familiar voice and you furrow your brow as it comes closer and then he’s speaking your father’s name and his voice lights up as he stands.

“Well, Bo god damned Sinclair! I thought that was you, what other bastard is crazy enough to go muckin about dressed like that?” Your father’s voice is all smiles and he pulls Bo into a hug - he was dressed in all black as it he were coming from a funeral. “Hey, sorry, ain’t meanin to be rude. This here’s my daughter, come home from college for the summer.” You close your eyes and sigh through your nose because you’re surely in some kind of shitty romcom. Bo looks down at you and blinks, eyes widening only momentarily before his lips curl into the same cheshire grin he had when you fucked him. “Well how about that.” Bo reaches down and you shake his hand, his fingers squeezing yours tightly, and you see his eyes raking over your body, over his bruises and teeth marks left on your neck and collar and shoulders.

Your dad invites Bo to sit and he does so, eyes locked on yours with this big shit eating grin. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you come back, Bo’s made himself comfortable at your table with his own cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. You wipe the sweat from your hands on your pants and return to the table and the mess you’d gotten yourself into.

#WHew #this is so long im so sorry #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #afab reader #dads friend bo

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