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marlahey · 2 years

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under the same roof part five: just couldn’t wait

a harry styles rpf part five of six ratings/warnings: teeth rotting fluff, a collection of small firsts, some of my personal favourite scenes notes: hello again! we’re combatting extreme stress and anxiety with productivity! I’ve applied for a new job to deal with hating my current one, made so much progress on skyward sword, and gotten over strep and the flu since you last saw me. it’s a lot, but so am I, lol.

• sunday, january 13th, 2019. 10:05 am •

“Nice place,” Harry calls to you from the kitchen. You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you.

Your place is essentially a two hundred square foot studio with a loveseat, wall desk, kitchenette, and a bare, open archway that leads to a room scarcely large enough to fit your queen bed. You have no full bath, no real living room, and no hallway; the flat kind of just starts right when you walk in. “Thanks,” you deadpan, hoisting your suitcase onto your bed before doubling back to the kitchen. “It’s just a shame all my plants are dead now.” You hear the sound of the fridge door shutting as you walk up to Harry. He’d insisted on bringing up a few containers of food and helping you with your bags, but it had sounded like an excuse to you. You’re certain you’ve never had someone so tall in your apartment before. Perhaps it’s just that your ceilings are lower than his, but Harry seems to dwarf every mundane marker of your life–– your shoes, your books, envelopes from the bank. It’s almost as though your life hadn’t been fundamentally altered in the past week, that your clutter and half-empty dish soap and creaky floorboards had just been waiting for you to return from an errand. But instead, your poor plants and the fine layer of dust –– and Harry, still standing there like he belongs –– are just a reminder that you can never just go back to whatever you had before. The corner of his mouth quirks up against his dimple as you reach for the strap of your duffle bag around his shoulder. He nods to the massive canvas above your bookcase. “I like that painting.” “India did it.” He crosses his arms, leaning back against your kitchen sink to take in the ornate petals, twisting branches, and shapeless streams of color. “She’s talented.” You join him, leaning on the countertop and stroking his arm. “Thanks for helping me carry everything, and for the leftovers. You really didn’t have to do all that.” “I know. Wanted to… Are you excited for Brighton?” “So excited,” you affirm. Harry tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You straighten his glasses for him. “What about you? Are you excited to get Sylvia again?” “Definitely.” “And you have her for two weeks now? Or… ” “Nah. I offered, but I think Annie wants to save her weeks up for later like a bloody punch card. Think I’m probably gonna have to take her for quite a while when they go on their honeymoon eventually.” “I see,” you chuckle. “When do you need to head out?” Harry glances at the time on his phone before stuffing it back into his pocket and pulling you into his chest. “Little over an hour,” he murmurs. You smile against each other’s mouths in a drowsy kiss. Harry’s arms snake around your waist; you stand between his knees and stay like that for a minute, kissing in your kitchen with a ray of sunlight warming the backs of your legs. You take a step backward after a beat, and tug Harry along by his arm. He almost trips over your tiny dining table. He bends down to kiss you again, but you push him onto the loveseat. (If you thought his size made him seem out of place before, he’s making your furniture look like it belongs in a dollhouse now.) Harry just smiles up at you as though he’s happy to be led anywhere. “I just…” you begin, uncertain. “I want to feel something that isn’t… ” You shrug a little helplessly, waving a hand at the walls of your home. “I want to feel good here, again.” Harry doesn’t say anything, but then he nods. He reaches forward, hooking his fingertips around the back of your knee to pull you onto the couch with him. It feels less like a fall and more like being drawn in by a magnet. “I think,” Harry breathes against your neck, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss into the divot just below your ear, “I can help with that.” • tuesday, january 15th, 2019, 11:48pm • The wind bites at your face as you careen down the sidewalk without shutting the door of the cab behind you. A wild laugh rips through your chest. The pavement is harsh beneath your bare feet but you stretch your arms out like an airplane with a shoe in each hand because you’re safe and nothing hurts and if you have any responsibilities right now, you can’t recall a single one of them. India is calling your name, telling you to slow down through laughter. Your smile only grows.

“You’ve passed it, babe!” she yells. “It’s this one!” You whirl around; India is down the block, frantically pointing to a colorful triple-decker tucked into the line of identical houses like two mirrors facing one another. You scrunch your nose, trying to remember the photographs from the Airbnb website. Was it that one? “You sure?” you yell back to her. India nods, exaggerated, before doubling over with laughter. “Positive.” You stumble up the steps of the front porch together, losing it over absolutely nothing. She fumbles the keys. “Hurry, India.” You hop from foot to foot to stay warm, clad in nothing but an enormous sherpa jacket and the shortest dress you own to shield you from the cold. “Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” The front door swings open and the two of you both try to shove past each other around peals of laughter, taking the stairs by two in a scramble to reach the bathroom first. You know that you should try to be quieter for the neighbours, but the chances of that are fading by the minute. You’re the first to reach the toilet, but you’re pretty sure India had let you win. She bangs on the door the entire time you’re in there regardless. “I’m gonna piss myself!” she threatens from the hall. No part of you wants to see if she’s bluffing, so you quickly finish washing your hands before unlocking the door. Your best friend would have plowed right through you to the toilet, had you not zipped past her first, snatching your purse from the hallway floor on your way to the bedroom. The muted floral duvet bears a slight resemblance to the one from the Bates Motel but since it doesn’t seem to have any suspicious stains, you pounce onto the mattress and fish your cell phone out of your bag. You’ll get the spins sooner rather than later if you don’t sit upright, so you crawl up the bed until you’re propped up against the headboard, scrolling through your contact list until you find the one you’d been searching for. Your ears are icy from the chilled night air as you press your cell phone against your cheek, smiling a bit wickedly as it rings. You nestle into the soft lining of your jacket and it occurs to you too late that you have no idea what time it is “Hi.” Somehow Harry is laughing already as he answers.

“Hi… it’s me.” You hiccup. “I know, love.” “What’s so funny?” you demand. He’s still laughing.“You.” “You’re only saying that because I’m drunk.” “Absolutely why I said that.” You smile, then collapse on the pillows, leaning a cold cheek against your hand. “I jus’ wanted to hear your voice.” His laughter catches like it got stuck in his chest. You hear his breath through the phone in the long pause before he speaks.“You’re sweet. How’s Brighton?” “Good… Kinda cold.” “S’ what you get for going on holiday to the beach in January.” You roll to the side and hug an arm around your waist. “Shhh… ” “What did you get up to today then?” “We went to the pier, and the Lanes. Hit the shops. I bought a dress and some earrings, and… yeah. We had dinner at the Salt Room.” “Oh yeah? What’d you have?” “Surf and turf.” “Sounds good.” “Mhm. Now we just got back from the Bar Broadway after some celebrating.” You hiccup. “Have you ever been there?” You’ll never tire of hearing Harry laugh “I have actually… How much did you celebrate?”

“Like, several rounds.” You ignore any lingering embarrassment over your slurred words in favour of letting yourself indulge in the slow, rounded melody of Harry’s voice. “Excellent… I’m really glad to hear you’ve been able to enjoy yourself.” “Thank you.” “You deserve it.” “Yeah,” you agree, sighing against the pillow and smiling to nobody. “How was your day?” “Very good. Sylvia and I FaceTimed with my mum for a while after dinner. We made mini pizzas from scratch—it was a fuckin’ mess. Then watched Shawn the Sheep. I sang a little to put her to bed… Now you’ve caught me going over a few exhibition proposals for the gallery, I’m afraid.” “Sorry, I’m probably distracting you.” Harry pauses. “S’not any different than usual.” “Is that a bad thing?” “Definitely not.” You allow for too much time to pass, listening to each other breathe through the phone. He speaks up again when you don’t. “Still there?” “I miss you,” you hum, almost inaudibly. Even though you’re several negronis in and haven’t seen him in a few days, you still can’t tell if the admission was warranted. “Miss you too.” His voice is soft. You haven’t been indoors long enough to justify feeling this warm all over. “Where are you right now?” “In the living room. On the couch.” “With a cuppa?” Harry snorts. “Obviously.” “What are you wearing?” You almost cut him off, surprising yourself. Just when you’re convinced that you’d taken it too far, Harry chuckles on the other end of the line. “I’m, um… I’ve got a tee shirt on, joggers,” he replies slowly. You’ve barely pictured it before he adds a hint more seriously, “black briefs.” Your lips part incrementally around an exhale. Another pause washes over the conversation like a tide. He speaks up again, though his voice has dropped a decibel. “What are you wearing?” His tone sobers you a little as you glance down to your bare legs. “A lot less than you.” Harry’s clipped sigh is audible through the phone. You wonder if his eyes are closed as well, and if he’s getting carried away thinking about you the same way you are about him. “Friday night was nice,” you comment. “It was… Thinking about it right now, actually.” “So am I,” you admit. “When can I see you again?” “When I get back.” “When’s that?” His voice is taut, as though he’s overcompensating his frustration with an effort to sound polite. “This Saturday, so…” You count on your fingers. “Four days from now.” Harry offers you a dry, poignant laugh. “S’ ages.” “I know. I’m not feeling very patient… ” You bite your lip, leaning on the intoxicated side of your brain for courage. “I might have to take care of myself later.” You had slept with him once—did you have the license to say something like that? Would you have to text him tomorrow morning to apologize for your loose lips? “Was half considering taking care of myself right now, actually.” Your mouth goes dry. He begins again, slowly. “How would you feel about that?” You swallow roughly, struggling to process this information. Harry wants to touch himself while he talks to you. You can practically see him alone on the couch in his living room, laptop tossed to the side, one hand slipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants moving slowly, the other holding his phone to his ear, cheeks rosy and eyes hooded behind his glasses. Are you about to have phone sex? Is that what’s happening right now? “Love?” You’ve short circuited too long. “I’m—yes. I’d feel good,” you blurt, scared that you’d lost the moment in your flounder for the right response. “I’d feel good if you… took, um–” “Care of myself?” he finishes for you, like he’s trying not to laugh. You nod, mildly humiliated, before you remember he can’t see you. “Yes.” “Okay then.” You shiver as his breathing changes in the stretch of silence, almost imperceptibly. “Is it nice?” you ask. Harry hums in confirmation. “You should keep talking.” “I wish I could… ” you trail off. “Tell me.” “I wish—” “Who are you talking to?” Your head whips around with the sound of India’s voice. She’s crouching in the doorway, rifling through her suitcase with a bag of toiletries and some pajamas in hand. Instead of responding, you simply prop yourself up on the bed and try not to look too much like you’ve been caught red-handed. A beat passes. You really should have answered her—gin tends to make you wear your heart on your sleeve. Her eyebrows slowly raise. “Who you talking to?” India repeats, in an utterly different lilt.

You hiccup. “Nobody.” Your best friend hurtles into motion, bounding across the room. You squeal and leap from the bed. India probably knows that wrestling your phone from your hand while you’ve both had a lot to drink is a bad idea, so she settles for grabbing the first pillow within reach and slinging it at your head. You duck—but only just—then hear your name, tinny and faint through your phone, and remember that Harry is still on the line. “Hi,” you gasp into your cell. “Sorry.” He sounds far too amused. “Should I call back?” “No no, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I should probably be getting to bed anyway… ” you reply, dodging another blow from the pillow. “But um—” You wave frantically at India for a moment of respite. “Can I call you tomorrow?” “No problem,” he laughs. “Looking forward to it.” “Me too. Night Harry,” you say around a giggle. India is still making eyes at you. “Goodnight love.” • saturday, january 26, 2019. 7:00 pm • “Just a sec!” you call, springing up from your vanity to answer the knock at your door. After adjusting the hem of your sweater, you glance at the small face of the slim, golden watch hung around your wrist. He’s right on the hour. With a hand on the doorknob, you rub your lips together to even out their shiny coat of red one last time and twist a stray piece of hair back into your updo before pulling the door open, and when you do, the world seems to stop for a beat.

Your eyes travel from Harry’s polished black boots to his pressed trousers, up the length of his dark overcoat that hangs open, and get stuck on the way that the buttons of his white dress shirt catch the light. You skim over the small bunch of snapdragons he’s clutching before finally meeting his gaze, but when he looks down at you with the beginning of a smile, your Hello gets caught on your tongue. You told yourself you weren’t going to choke, but for a minute you stand there in your doorway in silence, both politely trying to conceal that you’re beaming at each other. “Hi,” he says finally, taking you in as if for the very first time. “Hi.” “These are for you.” Harry holds out the pale blush flowers wrapped in brown paper. You brace the weight of the door with one hand to take them. “Oh thank you! That’s so thoughtful.” He begins to lean in for your cheek so you lay your hand on his shoulder just as it occurs to you to invite him inside. “Come on—” An orange blur streaks past your feet; Harry’s eyes go wide as he pulls back, attempting to block the doorway, but Chowder has already seen the gap of freedom between his legs. “Chowder!” You press the flowers back into Harry’s arms, squeezing past him before sprinting down the hall to wrangle your cat. “Sorry.” You return a little breathlessly. “He does this all the time.” Inside, Harry closes the door behind you and Chowder leaps from your arms back to the floor, scampering to your bedroom. “The flowers are lovely. I’m, um… I’m about ready to go—give me a minute to find a vase.” Do you even own a vase? “Sure,” he chuckles. “No rush.” You ransack your kitchen for anything that might do the trick and find a pitcher covered in flamingos wearing sunglasses; it’s only ever been used for blended margaritas but it’s all you have. So you unabashedly fill it with water, unwrap the flowers, and angle the makeshift centerpiece nicely on your tiny dining table. “I love them,” you affirm, smiling at him over your shoulder. Harry waits for you by the front door with his hands in his pockets, only softly chuckling at the spectacle. Your cheeks warm. “Okay, let me just… ” you trail off, zipping back to your bedroom to pin your second earring in. “You look beautiful,” he says, for once, not smiling. Your lips purse to the side to conceal your delight. “Thank you… You look fantastic, Harry.” He’s already pulling you in for a side hug and the peck that he missed greeting you with earlier. He’s shaved, and his skin feels smooth against yours. You place your hand gingerly on his jaw as he seals the kiss to your cheek. “Thanks,” he whispers by your ear, a little playfully, before kissing you again in the same spot. “Ready to go?” He raises his eyebrows at you, stepping away to place a hand on the doorknob. “Where’s the cat?” You huff a laugh. “We should be fine. He only makes a break for it if someone knocks first.” Harry holds the door for you as you wrap a scarf around your neck. “After you.” The usual mundanity of your walk to the tube station has vanished with Harry at your side. Your breath puffs out into the cold when you breathe, the wind nips at your cheeks, and you both have to hike your shoulders up a little to stay warm. The two of you share a small laugh upon stealing a glance over at each other tucked into your scarves. It’s refreshing to spend time with him somewhere besides the lift or his apartment—Harry had become so anchored to those places in your memory. Some part of you expected him to look different, somehow, but perhaps it’s you that’s different now. You’re finally free to admire him openly the way you want to, and you could certainly get used to that feeling. Harry had chosen the restaurant and you’d heard of it, but never been yourself. In fact, you’d only been to the Little Venice neighborhood by Regents Canal once or twice in all the years you’ve lived here. India had informed you that the restaurant was built into a charming, narrow ferryboat, and during dinner, it actually floats along through the Maida Hill tunnel, past Regents Park to Primrose Hill and Camden before returning to the starting point in the Paddington Arm of the canal. As you approach, you find yourself taking a small breath in upon seeing it for yourself—the vessel is painted a glossy, electric blue with orange and cream old-fashioned serif writing on the side: ABOARD THE PRINCE REGENT.Circular brass boat windows dot the exterior. On the starboard side facing the street, the slatted light of a cinema sign hoists the words, CANAL ST. LONDON SHELL CO into the air… It’s straight out of a Wes Anderson film, you swear. Harry smiles down at you over his shoulder; you quickly close your gaping mouth. “Does this work for you?” “I’m going to eat so much that I sink the boat and everyone with it.” “S’a good way to go… Here, watch your step.” Harry takes your hand as you hop from the concrete onto the Prince Regent, helping to steady you on the moving floor below. “Hello! Welcome aboard,” the hostess greets. “Hi.” Harry nods, glancing at you. “We have a reservation for two under Styles.” Your heart skips a beat at those words, and you have to look away as to suppress your smile. The hostess runs a fingertip down her clipboard before crossing out one of the names on the list. “For our eight o’clock dinner cruise” “That’s the one.” “Right this way.” You’re lead to a small, wooden table for two tucked into a corner of the dining room by the window, passing a comprehensive wine bar on your way. From the upper deck, you can see straight down to the Paddington Basin. The open deck on the bow of the ship is decorated with charming string lights and a long boxwood garland. You’ll have to go check it out at some point tonight, but frost gathers visibly around the edges of the windows of the Prince Regent and it makes you thankful to be indoors for now. There’s still ten minutes to spare before the cruise is meant to start, but it appears that you and Harry were some of the last passengers to arrive. He helps you shrug out of your jacket from behind as the warmth of the cabin seeps into your cheeks. A moment passes as the two of you settle into your seats, exchanging a somewhat ladened look. There is a cautious lift to the corner of his mouth. “Well,” Harry begins, once both of you have been still for a minute. “This is… new.” “It’s nice. I don’t know that I’d say that it’s new though.” “How’d you mean?” “I think… ” You play with a corner of your napkin. “I guess, to me, this doesn’t really feel that much like a first date.” There’s a faint crease between Harry’s brows when you look up at him. “It feels like we’ve done this before.”

“Ah,” he nods. “We’ve shared a few meals, I s’pose that’s fair… ” Harry pauses to push his glasses up his nose, frowning at the tablecloth. “Would you have wanted to do this differently?” “No, no,” you start to reach across the table for his hand but think better of it. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The light of the candle flickers between you, illuminating Harry’s face in gold as you pass under the Maida Hill tunnel and the room grows dim. You float through Lisson grove during appetizers, and he points out the London Zoo across from Primrose Hill. You’re lingering over the last of your gnocchi when the conversation drifts naturally back to Sylvia. “It’s really nice,” you say, “that you’re so close.” Harry’s eyes go thoughtful. “Did I ever tell you I had a stepdad?”

The past tense doesn’t escape your notice, so you just shake your head. “Robin. Great man. He passed away last year.” “Oh, I’m sorry Harry.” He shrugs, smiling with that sort of polite acceptance. Harry looks older, somehow, for just a second in the dim candlelight. Worldweary. “Thank you. I mean, his health hadn’t been great for a while so it was almost better than something unexpected, but with Sylvia gettin’ older and remembering things more I wish they’d have gotten to know each other better. Like my youthful blunder could’ve worked out a bit better.” “What do you mean?” “Oh, you know...” He sips his wine. “We had her so young, so you’d think there’d be more of a window for her and Robin to connect and love each other. I’d been looking forward to it, those memories.”

You’d never thought of parenthood like that before and your heart is both warmed and a little broken. Harry asks about your grandparents and suddenly you’re lost in a conversation about your hometown, high school, and family. With Harry’s rapid fire of questions, you can’t even remember the last time you talked so much about yourself. It makes you wonder if he’d been holding back before. Harry’s eyes flash to your mouth every now and then, lingering there longer and longer every time you speak. He’s now wearing a delicate smirk, and you suspect he’s beginning to notice the effects of the wine as well. Feeling bold, you cross your legs so that the top of your foot grazes the inside of Harry’s calf beneath the table, and keep it there. He licks his lips once, his gaze darting to the window as the smile on his face spreads slowly. Too soon, the Prince Regent is turning around at Camden Market and doubling back to Little Venice where you’d started. After deciding to skip dessert together, Harry glances over your shoulder and asks if you’d like to take your glasses of wine out to the small deck at the front of the boat; you nod quickly, sliding into your coat.

“How’re you feeling about the trial and everything?” You stay tucked in his arms and say nothing until Harry finally meets your eyes. “That’s not for a long, long time. The man is in custody—that’s all that matters… The custodial sentence for stalking is over a year. I have a lot of evidence in my favor. And after the court date, I’ll never have to see his face again.” You believe your words, but you can tell Harry is more skeptical; you give him a smile that you hope is convincing, and eventually he sighs, scrunching his nose. A laugh bubbles up from your stomach. “What’s that face for?” Harry shrugs. “Just wish you didn’t have to go through all that.” “I feel that way too sometimes, but the prospect of holding him accountable… the thought that I could help protect the women after me who he would have done this to is too important. You know? And besides, if things hadn’t happened exactly the way they did, maybe we wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t that be kind of a shame?” “I s’pose.” You stare intently at one of the buttons on his jacket until you’re ready to speak. “I’m having a really nice time, Harry.” “So am I.” As you rest your head on his chest, Harry lifts his hand to stroke over the hair at the nape of your neck. You laugh once. “Is this how you imagined our first date would go? When you wanted to ask me out on the lift, back when you didn’t know my name?” Harry snorts. “Definitely not.” The boat rocks below you and Harry’s hold on you tightens for an instant. “Well, I don’t know, Harry. I guess I had thought about you, too, y’know before everything that happened with the police, and staying at yours… ” “Thought about me how?” “You know what I mean.” “Please say it.” You sigh a little. You’d said those words when the tables had been turned on this exact conversation. “I, um… I guess my impression of you from just seeing each other in the lift everyday… You seemed like a very kind and respectful person and you—y’know… You’re obviously very handsome. I mean, that part didn’t take me long to notice.” He just smiles. ** On the walk to the tube station, Harry looks over at you and offers his elbow, keeping his hands in his pockets. You hook your hand around the bend of his arm, but after a minute, slide it down into his overcoat. Harry is smiling as you try to maneuver around each other, figuring out the best way for your fingers to fit together. You stay beside one another like that, holding hands in his pocket the entire tube ride back to North Clapham, and even in the quiet walk back to your building. He doesn’t break the clasp of your fingers until you’re stood beside each other in the lift alone as Harry reaches to press the eighth-floor button. You frown at him. “What are you doing?” He mirrors your perplexed frown. “Walking you home, of course.” You burst out in a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh my god. No you are not.” But after a moment’s hesitation, you bite your lip, then walk over to determinedly push the sixth-floor button on the keypad. “Why don’t you, um… why don’t you walk me to yours instead?” Harry’s eyes go a little wide, before a grin creeps slowly across his face like he’s trying to ease you into it. “Alright then.” Your lips are parted suddenly. Harry’s eyes are asking if he can kiss you so you close yours, and feel his mouth landing warm on yours moments later. It’s nice; the two of you are really beginning to learn how the other likes to be kissed, and every time you do this, you notice it’s gotten better and better. Without too much discussion you fall into bed, an unhurried undressing into a spare t-shirt and boxer shorts. The lack of expectation makes your chest warm. It’s quiet between you for a minute but eventually the rounded tortoiseshell frames in Harry’s hand catching your eye. You take them from his limp hold, and try them on. “Wow. You are blind.” “Don’t make fun.” Harry lifts his head to look at you and snorts. “You look ridiculous.” There’s a book on his nightstand so you pick it up and inspect the cover. Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. You notice that a lot of the pages are dog-eared, but the words on the one that you randomly flip to are completely out of focus. “Love this book…” Harry comments, then reaches up to take it from you, sifting through a few pages. “Have you read it before?” You shake your head so he goes on. “You should borrow it. Last time I picked it up I was actually thinking you’d really like it.” “Really? What makes you say that?” “Well you’ve always got a different book on the lift. And s’ just really meditative and vivid and interesting, like, easy to get hooked on. Plus Tokyo in the sixties is kinda neat to read about… ” He’s engrossed in a chapter, so he doesn’t notice that you’re a little taken back by the idea of Harry thinking about you while you’re not around, noticing things that remind him of you, and remembering things that he thinks you would like. He chuckles and plucks his glasses off your face before putting them on himself. “Can I read you this one bit?” You nod quickly. Harry clears his throat. “I really like you, Midori. A lot.” “How much is a lot?” “Like a spring bear,” I said. “A spring bear?” Midori looked up again. “What’s that all about? A spring bear.” “You’re walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring, and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, ‘Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?’ So you and the bear cub spend the whole day in each other’s arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh?” “Yeah. Really nice.” “That’s how much I like you.” There’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there when he had started reading. You want to make a joke and ask Harry if he likes you like a spring bear but the words are trapped on your tongue and you think better of it. He turns his head to meet your gaze and hands the book back to you. “Take it.” “Thank you… I’ll have to tell you what I think when I finish it.” Harry’s eyes light up and he’s taking his glasses off again to lean in, pressing the words, “please do,” against your lips. • saturday, february 9th, 2019, 2:22 pm • “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Sylvia and Harry… Happy birthday to you!” The flash of a camera illuminates Sylvia’s face as her cheeks puff out in front of her block candle, shaped like the number three, until the flame goes out in a whoosh. You cheer along with the parents and children alike, huddled in Annie and AJ’s dining room. Harry is sat at the end of the table in a cone hat with his daughter in his lap, holding her sides as she leans over to blow on the lingering trail of smoke. He pulls her into his chest before peppering kisses all over her forehead and cheek as she squirms from his hold. Annie tries to snap a few more photos as AJ hurries to collect the cake, knife, and server, disappearing into the kitchen before returning a minute later wielding several plates with a slice on each. Someone turns the stereo on again once the cake and ice cream is passed out. There’s only three other little ones here besides Sylvia and one of them is Poppy, the daughter of the woman named Bridget who lives on the first floor and watches over Sylvia while Harry is at work. The other two are children of family friends. Someone is bouncing an infant on their hip. There’s blue frosting and sprinkles all over Sylvia’s face and arms up to her elbows. One of the children starts to cry. The whole scene is another interesting little peek into parenthood for you. Harry catches your eyes from across the room with a smile, and a vaguely resigned eye roll which you return with a wink. You hadn’t seen much of him this afternoon; he’d been too busy entertaining the guests and the children, tidying up the mess of leftover wrapping paper, orchestrating pin the tail on the donkey, and recovering from when Sylvia whacked him in the groin with the piñata stick by accident. All of the moms—and admittedly one of the dads—are practically salivating over him and you’ve have to stifle your laughter all afternoon because of it. AJ appears at your side with a light hand on your shoulder as you’re watching Harry pass Sylvia off to Annie before slipping off to the kitchen. “Would you like a piece?” “Sure,” you chuckle, taking the plate from her before raking your fork through the frosting. You’d gotten a corner slice with most of Big Bird’s stocky orange leg. “It’s very festive.” “Isn’t it?” AJ takes a bite from her own plate, covering her mouth before speaking again. “Shawn the Sheep seems to be her latest obsession, but it’s outlasted rocketships and firetrucks so I guess we’ll see… ” she trails off before elbowing your side gently. “A few of the adults are sticking around after bedtime for some drinks and I’m sure Harry would love if you joined. I’ve just made a fresh batch of sangria.” “Ooh… I’d love to.” “Perfect.” The two of you eat beside each other awhile, watching the party from the corner of the room. You lick the sugar off your lips, hesitating for a moment before venturing onto a topic you’ve been meaning to bring up. “I’ll admit, I was a little anxious for Harry to tell you and Annie that he and I have been, um… sort of seeing each other, I guess.” AJ gives you an inquisitive look over your slices of cake, so you go on with a shrug. “I mean, I was kind of a captive in his apartment for a week in crisis and now we’re like… dating. It’s a little odd.” AJ begins to laugh, so hard that she has to squeeze her eyes shut and bring a hand to her chest, and you can’t help but crack a smile yourself. “I’m serious!” you defend. “Oh,” she sighs, eventually. “We’ve known about you long before any of that happened.” Your head jerks back a little in disbelief. “What?” AJ nods slowly, the incredulous look on her face probably rivaling yours. “He texted us on New Year’s Eve to tell us he’d kissed you in the lift.” Your eyes widen as she speaks around another bite. “You think Annie and I haven’t been hearing about the gorgeous young woman who rides the lift with him since last year?” “You’re kidding me!” It comes out as a harsh whisper. “I’m not.” She shakes her head. “He told us when you sewed the loose eye back on her toy. For a while he couldn’t figure you out. It was sweet. I reckon Annie picked up on the fact that Harry fancied you before he even did.” “Oh my god,” you breathe. At that moment, Harry reappears from the kitchen, glancing over at you. You’re shaking your head at him but he’s simply smiling in oblivion. His lips move silently around the word “alright?” You give him a thumbs up before slipping into laughter again with AJ, and Harry’s expression morphs into one of suspicion. He sidesteps to Annie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Sylvia swats her father away as he pinches her cheek, doting her with his eyes. “And just so you know… ” AJ turns to you with a fading smile, gesturing between Sylvia and you, “there are exactly two people in the world I have ever seen him look at like that.” • friday, may 17th, 2019. 4:31pm • You roll your shoulders back and let your hair loose from the tight knot atop your head as you emerge from the lecture hall—you’ve just written your first midterm of the season. It’s arguably your most rigorous course at the moment, so you’re glad to have it out of the way. Your hand flits to your eyes to block the light of day as you fish your phone from your bag to text India that you finished early, but a frown settles on your brow. You have three missed calls from Harry. “Hi, love.” He picks up on the first ring; you pinch your phone between your shoulder and cheek as you dig around for your Oyster card. “Hey, is everything okay?” “Yeah, s’alright.” Harry’s words are rushed, overlapping each other even more than usual. “I was actually wondering if you could—wait! Your exam. How’d it go?” You melt into a small smile. “I feel good about it. I revised more than I needed to, honestly.” “Can’t say I’m surprised. We’ll have to celebrate later.” Your eyes flash to the ground in your walk to Euston station as your cheeks warm just a hint. “I hope so.” “I was actually wondering if I could ask a favor of you.” “Yeah, what do you need?” “I’m in a bit of a pinch at the gallery and I need to stay later than I expected to wrap some things up here and um… I won’t be home for at least another hour, so I can’t pick up Sylvia from Bridget’s on time—and Bridget, like, cannot stay past five today because her son’s in a school performance. Annie and AJ also can’t get out of work—I tried them already. So, do you think… I mean, Sylvia knows you and she just needs someone to entertain her for a little while ‘til I’m off. Shouldn’t be long.” “Oh.” Your heart jumps a little. “Are… are you—do you mind?” “No of course not! Does, um… Does Bridget know I exist?” Harry laughs once. “I’ve mentioned somethin’ like you, yeah. I’ll ring her now and let her know you’re coming instead.” “Okay, sure. Do I have to pay her? Or… ” “No, no, you don’t have to worry about that. We do a monthly invoice. Just bring Sylvia upstairs and give her, like, four Maltesers—tell her Daddy’s gonna be home soon. I’ll speak with her on the phone if she likes.” You nod. “Okay, I can do that.” “You mean it? You don’t mind?” “Of course I don’t mind.” Harry makes some sort of strangled noise of rejoice and relief all at once; you chuckle on your end of the phone. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver… I owe you one. ” “You know, I’m gonna hold you to that… ” You hope the suggestive lilt of your voice conveys how exactly you’d like Harry to repay you. Harry’s voice is lower and a little husky when he speaks again, after a pause. “I’m at work, love.” “I’ll see you tonight,” you bid through a laugh. “See you.” On the tube, your knee bounces all the way to the Clapham North stop; the prospect of watching over Sylvia exhilarates you unexpectedly. In your head, you go over how you’ll greet her. You fondly call her smile to memory and imagine her shuffling up to you for a shy hug. Spending alone time with Harry’s daughter was never a fantasy you’d spent much time dwelling on, but now that the opportunity lays before you, you’re overcome with an anxious hope that it goes well. You hurry to catch the walk lights on every street corner, trotting through traffic and pedestrians before making a beeline through the lobby doors over to the lift. Your phone buzzes from inside of your jacket. Harry Styles. 4:59 PM. Bridget’s flat is 1D, just knock lightly in case anyone’s still napping. Thanks again. x You. 4:59 PM. Will do. Bridget’s flat is easy enough to find on the first floor, and you can tell from where you stand in the hallway that there’s certainly no napping going on inside. The sound of children’s laughter seeps through the door and your first knock goes unanswered for a minute. You try again and hear footsteps. “Hello!” You’re greeted by a tall woman with long red hair and freckles as she reaches out for a handshake. You introduce yourself but she seems to already know who you are. “I’m Bridget. Lovely to meet you… Harry’s mentioned he was seeing someone, but it’s nice to finally see you in person!” “I’ve heard wonderful things about you, too.” A smile spreads naturally on your face as she shakes your hand with vigor. “Come in, please! I’m just on my way out, actually, I’ve got to run to make my son’s play. I would stay longer but he’s the lead so I can’t miss the opening number.” “Of course, that’s very exciting.” Children’s laughter and the patter of tiny footsteps echo throughout the flat as you step into the entryway. “The children are around here somewhere. I’m not sure if Harry’s told you but I have a daughter about Sylvia’s age and I watch them while he and my husband are at work.” “That works out nicely.” “It does, doesn’t it?” Bridget grins at you, shrugging into her trench coat. “Poppy! Sylvia! Come and get your things, darlings, we haven’t got all day.” “Daddy!” You recognize Sylvia’s voice as two little girls come speeding around the corner. She skids to a stop at the sight of you; her face falls and you try not to take it personally. You recognize Poppy from Sylvia’s birthday party, and she seems unphased by the presence of a stranger in her doorway. She is a tiny thing with platinum blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. It doesn’t occur to you that you’ve never seen Sylvia in a dress until you’re looking at another toddler stood beside her in a green checkered one. Harry’s child, on the other hand, looks a little less put together; dirt is smudged by her hairline and across one of her rosy round cheeks, and the knees of her tights are charcoal black. Bridget helps Poppy into a Nordic sweater before turning to face Sylvia. “Sylvia, darling,” she starts gently. “Do you remember how I told you that Daddy’s friend was going to pick you up, but that he was going to meet you at home later?” Sylvia’s curls bounce as she nods. Her big, hazel brown eyes flash you up and down, a bit removed. “Hi, Sylvia.” You wave your fingers at her, and notice the dimples sink into her cheeks the way Harry’s do when he’s fighting laughter. She smiles, twisting her big toe into the ground. It’s small, but it’s a victory. “Her wellies and knapsack are there.” Bridget nods to a familiar backpack with the initials, S.S. on the straps, along with a pair of green frog rain boots by the door, covered in mud. You crouch down to collect them and feel the tiniest ounce of pressure on your shoulder. In surprise, you turn your head to find that Sylvia has walked over and is holding onto you for balance with a foot nonchalantly in the air. You’re quick to tuck her feet into the frog boots before helping her into the world’s smallest puffer jacket, then hesitate; you frown, gingerly taking Sylvia’s hands in yours and flipping them over. Even when spread flat, her fingertips don’t quite reach to the edges of your palm. Her teeny fingernails have black beneath them, and her warm, golden skin is covered in a sheen of dust. “Sorry about that.” You glance over to the sound of Bridget’s voice as you rise to a stand. “We made a trip to the zoo today. Sylvia tends to get a little adventurous.” “I see,” you chuckle. “Well, I’m afraid we must be off, now.” Bridget is brushing past you to the door with Poppy on her hip. You move out of her way and grab Sylvia’s backpack off the floor before heading down the hall with everyone. Poppy makes faces at Sylvia and the pair laugh in secret as you all wait for the lift. “I hope your son does well tonight.” “Thank you! I’m sure he’ll be fine… he’s a ham, a bit like this one.” Bridget nods down to Sylvia with warmth in her smile as you all pile on after the ding. The lift stops at the ground floor and you say your goodbyes as Poppy and Bridget step out into the lobby. It’s suddenly very quiet between you and Sylvia as the doors slide shut. You press the sixth-floor button, then jump a little when you feel a tiny hand wrap around your index finger, glancing to the reflection of the lift doors to find that Sylvia is clinging on to you mid-yawn, completely unaffected. Warmth floods your chest as you smile tightly and try to remain collected. Sylvia holds your hand all the way to the door of Harry’s flat. The two of you still haven’t exchanged a word besides hi. Harry had never asked you to return his spare key after your week together, and you’ve sort of made it a habit of keeping it on your person. It’s difficult wiggling it into the deadbolt and twisting the doorknob with one hand but you desperately don’t want to let go of Sylvia. Inside, she kicks off her boots and blinks up at you. You swallow, dropping your school bag on the chest table, then quickly jog over to the nursery to hang up Sylvia’s backpack, gasping as you pivot to head back to the entryway—she had followed right behind you and you almost trip over her outside of her room. You laugh with a hand to your chest before kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Sylvia, do you want something to eat?” She smiles at her feet, crossing her arms and twisting her body before nodding her head. You rise and walk a little slower to the kitchen with Sylvia at your heels. The Maltesers are kept on the top shelf of the goodies cabinet; you nab the box and pour four into your hand as instructed. She’s recently graduated from using a high chair, so you hand her the treat in a small, plastic dinosaur-shaped bowl, thinking she’d lead you to the dining table. Instead, she pops the first malt ball into her mouth right away, seemingly content with sitting on the kitchen floor. You join her and don’t question it. Sylvia scoots backward on the tiles to the cabinet opposite you with her legs crisscrossed. You mirror her position, leaning back against the fridge. She stares at you in fascination, crunching softly. Her mouth moves like his. The apples of her cheeks push up against her eyes in the corners like his. Her chin and cheeks carry her expressions like his do. It’s an eerie sort of déjà vu, sitting across from her, eating a meal in the kitchen without a table. You feel like you know her a little better simply because you’ve grown familiar with many of her father’s expressive tells, which she shares. You hoist yourself up to your feet and fill a sippy cup with water, placing it lightly on the floor next to her. She sets aside the empty dinosaur bowl and drinks from the bottle with both hands. When that’s gone too, she belches softly and wipes her mouth with her sleeve. The two of you sit in silence… This isn’t exactly going as well as you’d anticipated. “Do you want to speak to Daddy? On the phone?” you offer. “He’s coming home soon, I promise.” She looks to be contemplating this for a moment, but eventually shakes her head. “Okay… ” you begin cautiously, eyeing the streak of dried mud on her forehead. “Would you like to take a bath?” Sylvia’s eyes twinkle as a grin spreads across her face. She nods, and relief washes over you. You cannot help but mirror her smile as you lead her to the bathroom, perching on the rim of the tub and rolling up your sleeves to run the faucet. All of Sylvia’s toys have returned to their rightful place in the shower, and you take a moment while the water is rising to shoot a quick text to Harry. You. 5:21 PM. Got her. She’s filthy so I’m running a bath. Harry Styles. 5:22 PM. Christ, of course she is… Thanks. Harry Styles. 5:25 PM. Can’t wait to “owe” you later. x The message sends a chill down your spine. It’s suspiciously quiet behind you, and you turn around to find Sylvia with her arms raised straight above her head, watching you with a confused frown. “Right, of course.” You turn to face her, shaking your head at yourself as you help her out of her shirt. After you triple check to make sure the temperature is just right, Sylvia hops in with a splash when she’s ready and flashes you a characteristically mischievous smile. She immediately goes for the water wheel and starts talking to herself, lining the ducks on the rim of the tub in groups. From what you gather, the ducks all take turns riding in the plastic boat over to the water wheel to play. Each duck family has two moms and one dad. For a minute you lean your cheek in your hand with an elbow resting over the edge of the tub as you let her play, but after a while, when you notice that the dirt on her forehead hasn’t budged, you fix your posture and gently pull her toward you. “Come here, sweetheart, let’s get you clean.” You use a big, plastic cup to pour water over her as you sponge at the mud on her face. One by one, you scrub her tiny fingernails with soap until they’re spotless, which takes longer than you would have imagined. Sylvia tilts her head back and squeezes her eyes shut tightly as you to soak her dark curls, then pump some baby shampoo into your hand. It’s maternal and intimate and strangely healing to take care of a child like this. How many years has it been since you babysat for that couple down the block from where you grew up? You can’t remember. But this… tenderly smoothing your hands over this little girl’s hair—being actually, personally invested in making sure she’s clean and safe and happy—feels eons away from getting paid to read a few bedtime stories to kids whose names have slipped your memory by now. There’s a lot you would do for Harry, but there’s a lot you would do for his daughter, too. Your hands freeze in place on top of her head as the sound of your name in Sylvia’s mouth stuns you. Up until this point, you frankly weren’t sure if she could say it. You look down at her; her eyes are curious and gazing up at you. “How come you and Daddy spend so much time together?” The air leaves your lungs. After a brief pause, you will your fingertips to keep moving in circles on her head. “Your Daddy and I… are friends,” you begin steadily. “Kind of like Bert and Ernie.” “Oh you’re in love?” she asks. Again, remarkably blunt and unaffected. “No, no, no, honey. Um… ” Perhaps Bert and Ernie weren’t the best anecdote to explain a platonic relationship to a toddler with gay parents. You fill the cup again and pour water over her hair while untangling her curls with your fingers. She leans back into your hand. “Daddy and I care about each other… and spending time together makes us both very happy.” It’s quiet for a long, long while as you listen to the small waves slosh against the walls of the tub. You haven’t settled on what you’d said to her. There’s something more. And even though she’s three, and she isn’t going to remember, you will remember, and you know suddenly that you have to get the words out. “And I want you to know, Sylvia, that you’re also special and important to me. I care about you very, very much.” She says nothing more on the subject and neither do you. “The water’s getting a bit chilly. How about we hop out and play some music in the kitchen while we wait for Daddy? Would you like that?” “Okay.” Sylvia all but leaps over your shoulder out of the tub, bringing a tidal wave of water with her. You’re half afraid she’ll slip but she lands on the bathmat with agility and waits for you by the towels. You sit on the toilet to help dry her off before blanketing her in the soft yellow terry cloth of her bathrobe. “Quack, quack.” You wink at her, adjusting the big orange bill above her head and earning a giggle that doubles her over. Just as you’re about to stand, Sylvia leans toward you with her arms outstretched. You’re confused for a moment and briefly think she might want you to lift her, but instead, she hooks her arms around your neck for a hug. “Oh, thank you,” you say around a laugh, rubbing her back over the soft towel. Her hair is still wet and presses a damp spot into the shoulder of your shirt. She drops her arms and quickly turns away from you to the door, turning the handle on her tiptoes and slipping into the hallway on her own. You hear her scream, “Daddy!” followed by the sound of quick, tiny footsteps. You frown, checking to confirm that you had no new messages on your phone before stepping out into the hall. Sure enough, Harry is there in the kitchen with Sylvia scooped up in his arms, wearing a plaid red and white suit, and soft white dress shirt. Produce, a packet of rice, and a slow cooker are laid out on the counter, but the stereo isn’t turned on. “Hi.” You smile at him but it comes out like a question. “Hi.” His voice is quiet and something is off about the way he’s looking at you, yielding and wistful and unbelievably fond. You can feel the confusion painted on your face. “I didn’t hear you come in.” “Haven’t been here long.” Harry shifts Sylvia to his other hip, smiling at you softly. “Didn’t wanna interrupt bath time.” “Ah. How was work?” You lean against a wall in the hallway. “It was good, yeah,” he says. His eyes take you in, almost timidly from behind his glasses, and his voice maintains a strange air of sentimentality… Whatever it was, you could ask him about it some other time. “Well I should get going.” You rub your eyes in a half stretch. “I’m exhausted after today.” Harry’s shoulders visibly drop. “I can’t interest you in dinner?” “I’m alright, thanks,” you smile, heading for the entryway to sling your school bag around your shoulder. “I need to clean out the fridge and go to bed on the early side tonight.” “Alright. Thank you again for today… I still get to owe you later, yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow; you laugh once. “Always,” you call over your shoulder with your hand on the doorknob. “Say bye bye, Sylvia!” His voice immediately switches to the high tone he uses only with her. “Bye bye!” Sylvia waves at you. “Bye!” you respond, ecstatic that this is the first time she hasn’t been too shy to actually say something when Harry had asked her to. In the lift, the doors don’t even get the chance to ding on the eighth floor before your phone vibrates with an incoming text from Harry. Harry Styles. 6:11 PM. So which one of us is Bert? • saturday, july 21, 2019, 12:51 pm • When you return from your three week homecoming in New York, Harry’s waiting for you in Gatwick’s arrivals hall. It takes concentrated effort not to run sailing into his arms like some fictional nearly lost lover. You settle for a kiss that leaves you a little dizzy and a breathless, “I told you you didn’t have to come get me!” He just shrugs, taking your suitcase handle before you can object and wrapping his arm around your waist. “Wanted to. Just couldn’t wait.” I love you. You’ve been thinking it for weeks now. But every time it nearly comes out of your mouth, you find yourself reeling it back. Is it too much? Is it too soon? Harry steers you towards the National Rail trains headed back to London. There’s something so relieving about just tapping your contactless card to pass through the gate. As much as you missed your family and friends stateside, London is home now too, more than you ever realised before. The platform announces a mere three minute wait. You couldn’t have timed it better. “I know it’s probably dumb to say after sitting on a plane for five hours, but my legs are killing me.” Harry laughs lightly as you haul yourselves onto the train. “M just glad I’ve never had to queue up in that international border control. I can’t believe it took you almost two hours.” “Yeah yeah, rub it in British boy.” He just snorts and turns to kiss the side of your head, like a sympathy. Clapham Junction is the second stop on this route, but it’s a full thirty minutes away. The train is packed to the brim so you can only lean wearily into Harry as you stand there and sway, trying not to fall over all the luggage. You grab an Uber from the Junction. It’s just short enough of a trip that you can’t doze off, and you’re barely inside before Harry’s pressing you up against the closed door of your flat. Your backpack slides off your shoulder and hits the floor with a thump. “Don’t--” you start shakily, and Harry lifts his lips from the curve of your shoulder. “Don’t let me sleep too much, okay? Otherwise the jetlag’s gonna mess me up for a week.” He laughs a little like he’s trying not to. “Oh trust me love,” he says, sliding down your body to kneel between your legs. His warm hands anchor your hips; a delicious shiver zips up your spine. “I don’t plan on it.” ** Okay so seven thirty in the morning isn’t exactly a lie in, as Harry calls it, but it’s better than wasting the day away. You pry yourself from his grip and tiptoe out to your forgotten suitcase and bag. The floor creaks as Harry comes out looking for you soon after. “You’re unpackin’ now?” “If I don’t do it now, this suitcase is gonna sit here for two weeks.” You’re half-expecting that he’ll try to pull you back to bed, but Harry just folds himself down onto the floor, hooking his chin over your shoulder. His fingers slide greedily beneath your too-big t-shirt, chasing the warmth of your skin. “What’s a...Reese’s?” Harry squints in the low light and you laugh, plucking the candy from his hand. “Like a chocolate peanut butter thing. I promised AJ I’d bring her some back.” From under your raincoat you unearth a small stack of books, their golden spines shimmering a little, and a familiar, grinning red face. “Wait.” Harry slides around you, reaching into your suitcase to pull out Elmo. He looks so much smaller in Harry’s grip, comically soft against the square edges of the signet ring against his belly. “Isn’t this–” “Elmo!” You grin to match your childhood companion. “My mom made me go through a bunch of boxes of stuff while I was home and I thought Sylvia might enjoy–oh, wait!” Harry’s jaw has gone a little slack. He doesn’t move as you jump to your feet and dig into the pocket of your coat, pulling out a napkin with a triumphant flourish. “What’s this?” Harry asks as you hand it to him. “I was on the plane and thinking about what AJ said at Sylvia’s birthday about her different interests, you know how kids are, getting obsessed with different things for months at a time? I figured if she likes Sesame Street she might like a bunch of the things I used to watch.” “Arthur, the Magic School Bus, Clifford the Big Red Dog, the Bearenstein Bears, Bear in the Big Blue House.” Harry’s lips twitch around a smile like he doesn’t want to offend you. “Sounds like we should take her to the zoo, love.” “Oh my god, Zoboomafoo!” “Gesundheit.” “No, Harry–” You struggle around a laugh– “I mean yes, let’s please take her to the zoo. But Zoboomafoo was this show my siblings and I were totally obsessed with. These two brothers are wildlife experts and friends with this lemur from Madagascar and–” “I love you.” Your nostalgia stops abruptly. Harry looks a little silly with Elmo in one hand and a napkin full of scribbles in the other, but he’s staring up at you with a kind of amazement that leaves you feeling oddly bare and vulnerable. “What?” It comes out like a whisper. Harry blinks owlishly, as though he’s taken aback by his own admission. He drops what he’s holding and pulls you back down to the floor. It feels like you float there. Harry’s eyes are dark and serious when he brushes the hair falling out of your lopsided ponytail away from your face. He says it again. “I love you.” You have no idea what your face is doing because alarm creeps into his expression. “You don’t have to say any–” “I love you too.” You can hardly get the words out before you're practically pushing Harry over in your haste to get your lips on his. “God, I love you too.” He smiles widely against your mouth. “Glad we agree.” You don’t finish unpacking. You don’t go back to sleep, either.

#harry styles rpf #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #mine: fic #utsr redux #thank you guys so much for your renewed and continued support it means so much

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christ0pher-evans · 3 years

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Healed Heart

Final Part of the Shattered Heart Mini-Series

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+ Minor Smut / Angst / Cheating / Arguing / Mentions of Divorce / Swearing Word Count: 2.9k A/N: So here is the final part of my mini-series. I honestly cannot thank you so much for the support on this, it means a lot to me and I love you guys for it!!! Please let me know what you think. I hope you’re happy with the ending because it took me a really long time to decide how I could finish off this story with justice. Thank you again, truly😘 Please reblog and like🖤

Part One: Shattered Heart Part Two: Troubled Heart Part Three: Bewildered Heart

♡

Three tortuous days had passed since you had last seen or spoke to Chris, three days since you kicked him out your home. You’d had nightmares about being in a loveless and hateful marriage, steamy dreams about your recent rendezvous and nights where you just felt so alone that you had cried yourself to sleep. It was safe to say that the past three days had been exhausting.

Although fucking Chris in the kitchen during a harrowing argument probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done, it led to some realisations about how you wanted to proceed with your marriage. You definitely didn’t regret anything you said, or did with Chris that day and that was what you found important amongst the disaster. Not regretting your decisions meant that you knew you wanted to move forward in your marriage, and not look backwards; something you would consider a big first step in repairing your marriage. You knew you couldn’t forget what happened and would have to address it before moving forward but you knew you had the desire to push through the hard times.

You’d called Chris that morning and told him that you wanted him to come home, not that he could or should but that you wanted him at home with you. Emotionally, it felt like the right decision, because at the end of the day he was your husband and you missed him. Practically, it is his home as well and it was the only place you could both be to sort out your marriage with privacy. You didn’t want to be surrounded by the media or by prying eyes. Hell, you didn’t even want the opinion of family or friends, this was between you and Chris only.

As you tidied up the house a bit and thought about the moment Chris would walk through the door, it was clear to you that no matter how angry or hurt you were, Chris was your endgame. You had played all the variables over and over in your head loads of times, societal rights and wrongs about cheating when you realised, fuck society. You would never leave your husband over this, and that was okay. This was your story and who cared what anyone else thought, because you didn’t want to give up. You owe it to yourself, to your marriage, to try and fix everything before throwing it away.

For the first few days, Chris slept in the spare room and you danced around each other, trying to find your new normal whilst you navigated the mess that was your marriage.

Once the first week passed, Chris continued to sleep in the spare room and you finally plucked up the courage to address the problem that had been plaguing your marriage for weeks, months if you consider back to when the problem initially started.

The day you decided to bring it up, you had finished work early and Chris was already at home when you arrived back around 3pm.

Walking through the house, you finally found Chris in the home office.

“I thought you were filming today?” Chris looked up at the sound of your voice.

“Oh hi sweetheart. I didn’t hear you come in? Um, yeah I was but, uh.. she turned up to re-film some scenes so I came home.”

You winced at the thought of her and Chris together but was quickly calmed by the effort Chris had made to avoid her.

Clearing your throat, you found the courage to reply.

“Oh, er, did you not have to keep filming?” Leaning against the door frame, you settled in for a longer conversation.

“It wasn’t anything that I can’t just do another day when she isn’t there. I’ve got some scripts to read over anyway so it’s fine.”

You sighed. This seemed like an appropriate time to bring up the unspoken topic so you could start moving forward but your anxiety felt crippling in that very moment, you didn’t know if you could face it.

“Sweetheart..” Chris whispered, “Y/N, sit down, please..”

You moved to sit down on the small sofa by the window, tucking your feet up and under yourself. Chris moved to join you, sitting fairly close but not touching you as you hadn’t crossed that boundary since he came home.

“Look baby, I’ve been home a week now and we’ve just walked around this house like we are two strangers. I need you to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking because you’re the one that told me you wanted me to come home?”

You looked up from your lap and straight into Chris’s eyes, “You do feel like a stranger to me.”

You heard his voice hitch in his throat, clearly caught off guard by your blunt answer.

“I’m still me, sweetheart. I’m the same person you met seven years ago and I’m the same person you married four years ago. Please don’t think I’ve changed.”

A lone tear falls straight from your eye, as you whimper, “I miss him.”

It takes Chris no longer than a second to pull you into his lap, all boundaries obliterated, as he hugs you like his life depends on it. As you cry all you can hear is Chris repeatedly whispering, ‘I’m here. I’m still me. I love you.’

You shudder at the softened and sweet contact, something you hadn’t felt for weeks but you embraced it, leaning further into Chris’s chest for comfort.

Once you had basked in the feeling for a bit longer, shutting the world and your problems out, you knew you had to move away. It would have been unfair to give Chris mixed signals as your marriage was still clearly on the rocks.

Sitting back up on the sofa, you composed yourself.

“I know you are still you Chris, but you’ve changed to me now. This you..”, you sigh before continuing, “..you’re tainted and untrustworthy, you’re the man that cheated on me, you’re not my husband. I need to get to know you again, and I need to learn to love our marriage again, and learn to trust you again. It’s going to take time.”

“B-but you want to try?”

“Of course I want to try. Endgame right? That hasn’t changed for me but other things have to change, we cannot continue like this otherwise if something else were to happen, I don’t think we would survive it.”

“I am infinitely yours sweetheart. Forever.” You watch Chris smile sweetly.

Feeling slightly more confident and feeling like Chris has really been listening to you, you knew it was time to talk about her.

“Okay, well whilst we are here, I think we should talk about her. It’s the biggest hurdle for me, and I can’t move past it. I just can’t deal with you seeing her right now, not whilst I’m learning to trust you again. I’ll never trust her so I need to 100% be able to trust you again.”

Grabbing hold of your hand, Chris nods in understanding.

“That is completely fine sweetheart. For now, how about I just work my schedule around when she isn’t there and wait until you are comfortable before I finish filming my scenes with her? I don’t care if it postpones the film, or they replace me, you are more important to me than any film and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you!”

You nod feebly, shocked and relieved with the instant commitment Chris was happy to make to save your marriage and earn your trust back.

An awkward silence falls over the room at the monumental conversation you just had. Needing a moment to yourself, you decide to make a quick exit.

‘Um, I think I’ll go and grab a shower before dinner.” Quickly leaving, you rush to your ensuite.

The shower provided a solace to digest what just happened, a few tears falling as you feel overwhelmed. But you left the bathroom with a renewed sense of hope.

It was another week of tough conversations and private marriage counselling before you felt you had reached another milestone in fixing your marriage.

You were in the ensuite of your bedroom when Chris came in to say goodnight. He was merely wearing a pair of pyjamas bottoms that amusingly you were wearing the matching top of.

He chuckled as he leant against the wall, “I was looking for that top.”

You giggled lightly and blushed, using all your self control to not drool over seeing Chris topless. Unfortunately, you had never been good at hiding any of your emotions from Chris and you saw him smirk slightly at your flustered state.

“Okay, well, I just came to say goodnight, so uh- night I guess..”

You mumbled a goodnight back as Chris turned to walk out the room. A rush of affection from the interaction washed over you causing you to shout back towards Chris to catch his attention.

“Um, stay..”

You saw the startled look on his face as the words left your lips.

“Stay with me tonight..”, you repeated as if you were confirming your own words.

“Yeah, course I’ll stay, if that’s what you want?”, he shuffled back towards you.

“It is what I want.”

You smiled at him sweetly before you brushed past him and moved towards the bed, leaving him a bit stunned in the bathroom.

Weeks passed with no problems. You and Chris had gone back to sleeping in the same bed and you often woke up snuggled together. At first, you’d wake and quickly move away from him however, slowly, you became comfortable with it and you were finally starting to feel at peace in his arms.

You had woken up early this specific Monday morning as it was Chris’s first day back filming with her. You felt sick to the stomach at the thought of him seeing her again and had slept terribly. You knew this day would come and thought you would be, at least slightly prepared, but as the day dawned, you were scared. Nerves caged around your heart as your mind could only replay the moment Chris told you that he had kissed another woman.

Chris had to go back to work, you understood that. He had already put it off for a while and sacrificed enough of his job to try and reconcile your marriage. You almost felt obliged to let him go back to work, who were you to hold your husband back from his job?

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly nursing a very strong coffee when Chris came down, ready for his day. You glanced up at him briefly, barely acknowledging his words to you.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay? You’re up really early?”

Glancing at the clock reading 7:30am, you shrugged and mumbled, “Woke up at 5:30am.”

You stared in the abyss, thoughts whirring through your mind. Thinking about being frightened to death about the thought that your marriage wasn’t even halfway back to where it should be. Knowing that Chris would see her today, spend all his time with her whilst you were waiting back at home for him. It felt like some sick and twisted de ja vu.

It had been almost two months since you’d last been with Chris in any form of intimacy, almost four months since you were truly a happily married couple and now he was going to see her again, were you really debating that history would repeat itself?

“Baby, will you talk to me? I can see something is on your mind”, Chris gently rests his hand over yours, bringing you out your nightmarish daydream.

Looking up at Chris, taking in all his handsome features, you thought, how could anyone ever resist him. The thought panicked you even more.

Learning from previous mistakes, you knew it was best to communicate to him how you were feeling.

“I’m scared you’re going to see her again today and history could just repeat itself. Nothing is fixed yet Chris, and it feels like we are already going backwards.”

Just when you thought that being honest and communicating with Chris was the best option, it backfired in your face. Chris scoffed, a look of disgust on his face.

“Huh, you’re not kidding?” Watching him run his hand through his hair, he turns away and slams his coffee mug down on the side. You jump at the aggressive action.

“You really think I’d do that again? You really think that little of me? Have you not seen all the work I’ve put into this fucking marriage the past couple of months?”, he shrugs and turns back to you, “What else do you want from me Y/N?”

You wince at his spiteful words.

“I know you’ve put a lot into this marriage Chris, so have I! We’ve been doing really well, but can you really blame me for having doubts on your first day back with her? I thought you’d understand!”

“No, I don’t blame you, but I thought you’d trust me more that this by now.”

You chew on your lip nervously as you both stare at one another, terrified of the silence.

“I’ve got to go to work Y/N, see you later.” You hear Chris huff before he walks straight out the house, leaving you sitting dumbfounded and anxious at your kitchen table.

Trying to do any work from home was useless as you just felt panicked and couldn’t stop thinking about how Chris’s day was going. You hadn’t heard from him since this morning at it was now 6pm.

After developing a painful stress headache, you decide to lay down in bed. Believing you can block the world out and briefly pretend that nothing is wrong in your marriage, you shut your eyes momentarily.

FLASHBACK.

Waking up so softly, you barely blink your eyes open as you feel tender kisses dancing their way up your back, following the line of your spine. You flutter your eyes open carefully, aware of the vibrant sunlight gracing your face as you try to focus your eyes, gradually making out the floor length curtains gently blowing through the breeze from your open balcony doors. You can hear the soft crashes of the waves and can see the soft, baby blue sky from your place on the bed as you stretch out all your limbs from an energetic night. You let yourself surrender to the feeling of Chris’s lips grazing against your bare body.

As he gradually makes his way up to your neck and cheek, you hum in utter happiness and contentment as he places one final kiss on your cheek as he leans over your body. You can feel every line and shape of his naked form as it presses up against you. You think about how you’ve never felt so happy and loved in this moment, knowing that this is exactly how you’ll get to feel for the rest of your life.

“Good morning Mrs. Evans”, Chris roughly whispers, his voice hoarse from minimal sleep. He nibbles on your ear teasingly before grinding his core over your ass. You whimper at the feeling his movements evoke from you.

“Mhm, I like how that sounds”, you mumble before smiling happily. The use of that name giving you butterflies. The one that now belongs to you, the name that now proves you belong to each other forever.

END OF FLASHBACK.

You wake with a start as you hear the front door slam slightly. You sit up too quickly, as you feel light-headed and your vision blurs slightly. You breath deeply, gaining your bearings before looking at the bedside clock. 7:30pm; you had slept right through dinner.

Not that it mattered because you would have been eating alone anyway, you thought.

Your body adjusts to being awake, your stomach fluttering slightly at the memories and feelings that the dream provoked. Momentarily caught in a fever dream.

Back in reality, you brain registers that there was a slam at the door. Quickly, you get up and rush downstairs to see what is happening.

As you halt at the bottom of the stairs and look out into the open plan room, you see Chris standing by the breakfast bar. The very same breakfast bar that holds so many recent heartbreaking conversations. But this time, it doesn’t bring you sadness.

There Chris stands, holding takeout food in one hand and in the other, your favourite donuts. Behind him, on the wall, hangs the framed photo from your wedding day. Your matching smiles beaming on both your faces, almost as if they are lighting up the room.

You look back at him, standing here in your house. Bringing home dinner to you. Coming home to you.

Your breath catches in your throat, “It’s you Chris, it’s always going to be you.”

You watch him place down the food on the side, before he begins striding towards you. Stuck in your spot, you can’t do anything but smile at your husband as he reaches you.

“Forever yours”, you whisper before Chris’s lips crash onto yours for the first time in months. Your lips work together as your hands grip as his waist and his grasp your neck and face so you can’t move away. So you can only feel Chris, so you can truly remember the raw intimacy and passion between you.

As your lips melt together, it feels as monumental as the moment he kissed you as you became his wife. It feels as if your story is beginning again; with a fresh start and a new-found hope for your marriage.

♡

Forever Tags: @itsscottiesstark @patzammit @partypoison00 @cynic-spirit @n3ssm0nique @sohoseb @madbaddic7ed @moonlacebeam @ilovetheeagles @beautifulrose0809 @lovelyladymayyy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mysticapples17 @whxre4cevans @firoozehmoon @spookyparadisesheep @mytbel0st @thatonelatina @snowy992 [Please drop me a message if you’d like to become part of the taglist for this series or any of my work]

#shattered heart mini series #healed heart #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #chris evans mini series #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #rpf

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

A Little Braver - Chapter 14

It’s Monday and it’s new chapter time.

First of all... the gif above is one of the most hilarious scenes in Top Gun, so when i started writing this chapter I knew I had to re-enact it. The manoeuvre is called buzz the tower.

This chapter is a moment of respite from what’s going to happen next. it’s a bit angsty at the beginning, but then it gets lighter.

CW: hurt/comfort, PTSD, panic attacks, and also a bit NSFW,

Enjoy

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She was in a room, of that she was sure. The heat was becoming unbearable by the second and the smoke enveloped her in a tight grip. Her eyes burned and she felt lost. Everywhere she looked there was smoke. Slowly she walked to a door and once she opened she saw fire. She walked in. She had to find him. She moved a step and her skin felt on fire. She walked and walked.

“Help,” she heard a male voice. She moved towards it. But when she found the person she noticed it was too late. She could still recognise his features: Sam. He was dead and she was too late. She started running as the tongues of fire chased her and the sense of being lost got worse. She ran and collided with something metallic. It was a plane. Its wings were broken, the canopy smashed. She noticed a figure in it. She walked to the aircraft and her heart stopped when she noticed the silver hair: Row— an explosion filled her ears.

Aelin woke with a scream, she threw the duvet aside and launched herself off the bed, crashing on the floor and then ran for the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach in the toilet. Over and over again. Tears pricked her eyes and she noticed her hands shake visibly. Exhausted, Aelin plopped on the floor and let the tears fall. It was just a bad dream. Just a bad dream. But she could still smell Sam’s charred skin and the odour of kerosene. Her sobs intensified and when she started hyperventilating she realised a panic attack was building up.

“Rowan…” she called but remembered too late that he had gone out with Aedion. She tried to bring her breathing under control but failed and the sense of terror grew stronger. Slowly, trembling she dragged herself back to the bedroom and once she reached the nightstand, with trembling hands, grabbed her phone and called Rowan.

His answer was immediate “hey you, miss me already?”

Aelin could not reply straight away, she tried to calm her breathing “I…” she started sobbing again “I am scared.” Was all she managed before her sobs took over completely.

“Aelin, where are you?” Rowan’s voice was panicked “Are you at home?”

He and Aedion had driven her home before going for their night out.

“Yes…” he voice barely audible.

“I am on my way.” And he closed the conversation.

Aelin dropped the phone and collapsed exhausted on the floor.

Rowan had cut his night short and drove back home like a madman. He should have never left her alone. He knew she was suffering from nightmare and panic attacks. But the idea of going out with Aedion had been very tempting. They had a great night and they had a fascinating chat that helped him a lot. His heart raced and growled at every single set of traffic lights. He had to be back home quickly. Aedion had mentioned to keep an eye on Aelin for PTSD. He hadn’t told the man that Aelin was already showing two symptoms. The nightmares and the fact that at night she struggled to sleep. He was getting really worried and his finger tapped nervously on the steering wheel.

He finally made it home and ran in the house, sprinted to the bedroom and found Aelin on the floor. Her mobile had slipped from her hands. He hoisted her in his arms and took her to the bed noticing her clammy skin. Gently he deposited her on the bed and went to the bathroom to grab a cloth. With it he brushed her face and cleaned it. She had been sick. He stood again and went to grab a fresh pair of pyjama and changed her making sure not to cause any more injury to her arm. Gently he tucked her under the blanket. She was sleeping and he did not want to wake her. He kissed her head and then he went to get himself ready for bed. Once he joined her under the blankets he pulled her to his chest and enveloped her body with his. His strong arms looped around her frame and his leg draped over hers in a protective embrace.

It was early morning when he woke, kissed Aelin’s head and brushed her blonde hair away from her face. She had managed to sleep throughout the night and he relaxed. She must have been exhausted after whatever happened. He imagined she had another nightmare and a panic attack. She was his brave and fierce Fireheart and it destroyed him to see her like that.

Rowan felt her move and slowly shift to awareness, her body turned and blue, beautiful eyes met his.

“Morning.” He smiled at her and kissed her briefly.

“You are here.” Her hand brushed his face.

“Of course I am here.”

“You…” but she stopped and shook her head “it’s nothing.” And she turned.

“What is it, Aelin?”

“Nothing.” She repeated and curled in a foetal position turning her back to him “you will leave me eventually. Everyone does.” He heard her cry.

He rolled her over and made sure she faced him “I am not going anywhere.”

“You will leave me, just like Sam did…” she whispered against his chest “and I will be alone again.”

His heart ached painfully. He wanted to make her a promise that he would always come back but his job was just as dangerous as hers and he could not utter that promise and lie to her.

“Do you want me to give up my job?”

She looked up at him “no.” she kissed him “no, I could never ask you that. No matter how much it scares me.” She leaned a bit more into him “Just come back to me.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

They remained in bed holding each other for a while. Aelin had told him about her nightmare and telling him felt good.

Rowan looked at his phone and groaned “damn I need to go to work.”

Her face turned sad and he kissed her pout away, then he had an idea “Come with me.”

“Uh?”

“You are still a consultant. I know that Lorcan has continued our project with Aedion. But you can come and see for yourself what we have done.” Then he gave her a big smile “you can see me fly as well. The guys and I will be probably running some drills as well as we have a performance review coming.”

The smile that she gave him almost made his heart melt. With renewed energy she jumped off the bed, ran to his side and began pulling him out of bed “come on, shower and we are going.”

“Fine, fine,” he complained and dragged himself out of bed, then he grabbed her and carried her to the bathroom sack of potato style. Aelin trashed in his arms, he pinched her buttocks in reply and she squealed. He deposited her in the bathroom and once free he started to undress and Aelin stared at him while leaning against the sink with a wanton smile on her face.

She peeled off her clothes and walked to him. Her hands brushed his chest, following the lines of his tattoo and then her tongue traced the same path. He folded his arms around her and pushed her in the shower and opened the jets. Another step and she was pinned to the wall. Aelin looked up at him “I do love a good wall in the morning.”

In a second his mouth was on hers, a hard demanding kiss. Her mouth opened to him and his tongue brushed against hers “well, let’s try and not disappoint you.” He pulled her legs around him and with one thrust he was in her.

The shower took longer than expected but it had put Aelin in a better mood and that’s all he cared about. He was getting ready in his uniform and smiled when Aelin hugged him from behind “What?” He asked softly while tying his tie.

“Thank you for being at my side last night.”

Rowan stiffened “I should have been with you all night, but I didn’t.”

Aelin placed a kiss on his back “but you came back straight away and it helped. In your arms I slept peacefully. You made me feel safe.”

“Well,” he turned and faced her “I need to make sure we do that every night.”

Aelin nodded and went to her side of the closet to grab her clothes “did you have a nice time with Aedion?”

“I did. And he helped. He went through this a few times and well, it felt good to talk with someone who could fully understand.” Then he stopped and looked at her “I don’t mean that you can’t. You have been supportive and amazing.”

Aelin stepped up to him “I know, but Aedion has been in the military. I haven’t. He can help you talk about things I might not understand. That’s why I asked him to take you out.”

“Thank you.” He said leaning over for a kiss “Are you ready?”

Aelin twirled in front of him, she just had jeans and a hoodie and he still thought she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen “I am, captain. All ready to see my top gun in action.”

My. Rowan felt a tug of deep joy at hearing her using that possessive for him. Since she forced the topic after the opera he realised that he had been fooling himself when he tried to convince himself he had no deep feelings for her. He wanted her. To be with her. To commit to her. And he was going to show her just how much.

He took her hand and together they walked out of the house.

They arrived at the base not long after “do you have your badge?” He told her as they reached the first check point.

Aelin fished it out of her bag and showed it to him.

“Captain,” the man in the booth said acknowledging Rowan “captain.” He added towards Aelin.

They drove through the second check point without being stopped and then Rowan parked in the staff car park. Aelin put her lanyard with her badge around her neck and followed Rowan inside, taking his hand.

They walked into his office and Aelin took in the room. She had been inside the first time she had visited him but not bothered to notice anything around. The place looked immaculate and super organised. A big filing cabinet at his back and a bookshelf full with books. Aelin went to have a look and discovered they were all books about flying. Then at the top of the shelf she noticed metal planes all lined up.

“This one,” he said, pointing to a plane with propellers “it’s called a spitfire. It’s quite an epic one.”

“Did you fly it?”

Rowan laughed “No, it’s an old plane. I wasn’t even born when it was used but it’s just gorgeous.”

“It looks cool,” said Aelin looking at the other models.

“These are some of the other planes I have flown.” He pointed to the remainder ones.

“And this?” She took in her hand the model of an aircraft carrier.

“That is the first aircraft carrier I have served on. I met some great people there.” And lost a lot as well, but he did not say that out loud. “It was my first mission and like a proper newbie I was all excited and eager to prove myself.”

Aelin smiled and then her eyes noticed a picture on the wall behind his desk “is that you?”

Rowan nodded and walked closer to her “the day I graduated from the academy. I was nineteen.”

She took his hand feeling the anguish in his voice “you look quite dashing.”

“I felt smug as fuck and invincible. I had finished the academy at the top. I came out number one.”

“Such a nerd.” She gave him a smile.

He turned her and grabbed her shoulders “don’t tell me that you were not a competitive brat at the academy.”

“I was the only woman at the time. I had to fight twice as much. I showed them all and I finished at the top as well and I made captain well before some of the morons who thought that they were better than me because they allegedly, had the correct reproductive apparatus.”

Rowan snorted and Aelin glared at him “don’t tell me you are one of those because I am going to dump your arse so hard you have no idea.”

He kissed her “No. I have been fighting with Lorcan for a while to get women to serve in the airforce if they want to. The navy has them, the army does as well. We are the only corp that doesn’t and I have been losing this battle for a while. Lorcan is one of those and since he doesn’t believe in the fact that women should be allowed in the airforce he never brings the fight to the higher levels.”

She kissed him and she felt like her heart could explode with love for him.

“He really is an arsehole.”

“I am not his biggest fan either recently.”

“Can’t you take the fight higher up? Go over his head?”

Rowan sighed “we are run by a bunch of old fashioned mummies who are even more retrograde than Lorcan.”

Aelin was about to reply when someone knocked at the door. At Rowan’s invitation she saw the man called Gavriel enter the room “We are all ready to go. We got clearance from the tower and the guys are getting changed now.” Then he noticed Aelin and gave her a big smile “hello, captain.”

“Hello, Commander,” she greeted him remembering his rank. She had liked the man from the start.

Rowan kissed her “I’ll be back in ten minutes. I need to get changed. I’ll come and get you.”

Aelin nodded and he left with Gavriel.

“So, you finally decided to do the right thing,” said the other man to Rowan.

“Uh?”

“Stop grieving and being scared and finally try to be happy.”

Rowan gave him a tight smile “she is worth it.”

Aelin waited in his office and when she got bored she grabbed one of his books about flight and started reading. She had been doing some research on her own to understand his job a bit more. She grabbed one that seemed to start from the basics and began reading how a plane did manage to stay in the air. She was so engrossed in the book that she missed him coming back. When she lifted her eyes she saw him standing in front of her in his flight suit. Gods, he was… she had so many naughty thoughts crossing her mind.

“What are you reading?” He asked her, noticing the book abandoned on the desk.

“Oh…” she cleared her voice “just discovering how a plane can stay up.”

Rowan laughed “four forces: thrust, lift, drag and push or gravity” he told her with a smug smile and then he offered her his hand “come on.”

She followed him and they walked to the hangar and every so often she checked him out. In the jump suit he was even hotter than usual.

They entered the hangar and Aelin noticed a lot of people swarming around the five jets “the engineers are getting the planes ready,” he explained her as they got closer to his.

They stopped and Rowan got to open the canopy and finished to dress by adding what he had told her was a G suit used to help with the pressure with manoeuvres where they had to pull a lots of Gs. She stared at him doing all the checks to his suit and then gave a man at her side the thumb up.

“This is Greg,” said Rowan nodding at the man at their side “he is my engineer. Once we are ready to go he will take you to the observation tower.”

Aelin smiled. She was really going to see him fly.

“Give me a have fun kiss,” he said leaning into her.

Aelin brushed his hair and kissed him deeply, then she broke the kiss and her forehead was against his “Be safe.”

He kissed her nose “I love you,” he said very softly.

He left her and climbed into his jet. She studied him finishing to don his helmet, do some checks and then he waved at her. He gave Greg a thumbs up and Aelin saw some other people take the jet away. No taxi, she corrected herself using the right term.

“Miss, you can come with me. They are taxing out and it’s going to get loud in here.”

Aelin nodded and followed the man, casting a glance ever so often to where Rowan had disappeared.

They climbed up the tower and Aelin gasped at the view. She could see the jets lined up on the runaway.

“They are waiting for final clearance from the tower. They will go that way for a bit, but eventually will come back here.” He passed her a pair of binoculars “these are handy.”

Aelin thanked him.

“Don’t leave until someone comes back to collect you. Probably captain Whitethorn will come himself. You are safe up here.” He explained her and Aelin nodded.

The man disappeared and she leaned against the wall. She stared at the jets and then realised she had no idea how to tell them apart.

One at a time all the jets took off, they disappeared at the horizon and eventually came back a flew by the tower. One of them rolled its wings up and down and she had a feeling that was Rowan.

She giggled and grabbed the binoculars.

A moment later she felt a presence at her side. Lorcan had joined her with a thermos of coffee in his hands “Enjoying the view?” He asked in a bored tone.“The fun should start soon. Whitethorn is probably explaining the parameters of the exercise and creating the two teams, that’s why they are still in formation. As soon as the game starts you will see them veer up and break into two groups.”

“How can you tell them apart?”

“Habit.”

Aelin rolled her eyes.

“Whitethorn is that one,” he pointed at the jet at the head of the formation.

“That’s it.” Said Lorcan and Aelin saw the team break apart like he had told her.

Lorcan brought out a radio and he changed to a channel that allowed him to listen to radio chatter of his pilots.

“Do you do this often? Coming up here and watch them, I mean.”

“Every time they are out. I am not as much as a monster as the captain depicts me.” He sighed and looked at his pilots “I care about them. They are my team.” then he chuckled and pointed at the jets in the air “Fenrys is already trying to get a lock on Whitethorn. Can you see how he is flying?”

Aelin followed the scene with interest and the radio went silent as the man probably concentrated on their job.

“Moonbeam is sneaky but there is a reason why Whitethorn is the best.”

“I got your arse, Iceman.” She heard Fenrys over the radio. Then something amazing happened. She saw the jet in front of the young lieutenant pull up in a vertical and breaking and letting the other jet pass him the he pulled down and Rowan ended up behind him and over the radio she heard a noise.

“Another time, wolf.” She heard Rowan laugh and the sound warmed her heart “you can sit this one out, pup.”

“That was awesome.” Said Aelin in awe.

“Whitethorn is not an easy one to get. I think in many years of drills only Gavriel managed the feat a few times. And we all believe it was because well, he was not himself.”

Aelin had an inkling she knew when that was.

“I think he needs this today. Losing that student has sent him back to a dark place.”

“How so?” Asked Aelin curious.

“Not my story to tell.”

They went back watching the exercise “that is a high G barrel roll, isn’t it?” She remembered it from thew video.

“Well done, captain.”

“Rowan has told me about some manoeuvres.”

“You see why he did that?” Lorcan pointed at the jets.

Aelin nodded, “the plane behind him is too close for comfort so that is an option to shake him off.”

Lorcan nodded “That is Gavriel. He probably painted him once already and had Rowan’s tail and a firing solution as well so Rowan pulled that manoeuvre to get rid of him and succeeded.”

“That’s Connall being his wingman. And Vaughan is with Gavriel.”

Then she gasped. Rowan had just flew in between Vaughan and Gavriel in a vertical line then she saw him bank and get back in formation.

“That’s Connall gone as well. It’s just Whitethorn against Vaughan and Gavriel.”

Gavriel was fast and sneaky. Even someone like her could see that.

Rowan was on his own but Lorcan did not seem worried. His planes flew mere metres from a second one, their bellies almost touching. He rolled away and then pulled into a dive chasing the plane that was trying to escape. He stood at the other person’s tail playing chase until she heard over the radio curses coming from Vaughan and she knew the man was out as well.

“Now things get interesting.” Commented Lorcan who seemed cheerier all of a sudden.

“Rowan told me you are against the idea of having females in the airforce.”

His face turned hard again “I was just starting to like you, captain.”

“What is your problem with our gender?”

“You cannot do that.” He pointed at the fight scene in front of them.

“That is exactly what I heard all throughout the academy. I was the only woman at the time. I was told I did not have what it took. That as a woman my body could not sustain the heavy training regime, that I had no chance of becoming just as good a firefighter as a man. They thought that me being born with a vagina prevented me from being a firefighter.” She explained, not removing her gaze from the two remaining planes “I proved them all wrong, sir. I finished the academy at the top of my class. I set the record in one of the exercises and no one has broken it just yet. I made captain before many of those pricks and I am still to this day the only woman who did so.”

“This is a dangerous job.”

Aelin scoffed and showed him her bandaged arm “I almost died after running into a building on fire. And I do that on a daily basis. Don’t talk to me about a dangerous job.”

Lorcan breathed out “you made your point.”

“Elide has her own ideas as well on the matter. She might be tiny but she is one scary woman.”

His face all of a sudden lost its hard edges. Oh look, the man had feelings.

“She is quite an amazing woman.” He confessed.

“You’d better remember that.”

“She told me about… her past.”

Aelin knew. Elide had told them.

“It doesn’t bother me. I mean, it bothers me what the fucker did to her but not that she… has no experience.”

“Good, because Elide is very nervous about all that stuff.”

“When she is ready.”

Aelin nodded and went back to the fight. It looked like Rowan was trying to get on Gavriel’s tail. The older man pulled into a vertical but Rowan never left him. Aelin stared at the climb and wondered how many Gs they were pulling. The jet flew with the canopies facing each others. Aelin then noticed Rowan’s plane break formation. Pull, again the strange breaking manoeuvre and make a precise loop that landed right on Gavriel’s tail.

A moment later she heard the long beeping sound and soon after a barrage of curses from Gavriel.

“That was damn sneaky.”

Aelin laughed and waved at him, not sure he could see her “That was awesome.”

“Oh, they are not done yet. Rowan’s drills are quite intense. We are in for much more fun. Now they all want revenge.” Added Lorcan leaning again against the wall and taking a sip of coffee from his thermos.

“He really is good.”

Lorcan nodded “he was the best since flight school. And his cool temper helps him to be great in a situation of great stress. That’s why we have been fighting recently. He has been rash and impulsive. That is not him.”

Aelin did not make any comments on that.

“Rowan and I have known each other for a very long time, since we were both still in Doranelle.” He told her “he is very respectful of rank and etiquette but with me and in private he had always spoken his mind and a few times he had pegged me down a few notches. We both have clashing tempers and it tends to end badly at times.” He sighed “I had no intention of suspending him but I had to. And I have a feeling he looked for a fight on purpose to get suspended. To be with you.”

Aelin gasped. She was not expecting such revelation. She had assumed Lorcan had followed the rules.

“I hope you realise he put his career in jeopardy for you. A captain pulling a stunt like that and breaking aerospace lockdown was bad. And leaving his post at the airbase in Doranelle was just as bad.”

“I am grateful that he did, though. I might be selfish but he helped me greatly and he is still doing it.”

“Don’t fuck up his life, captain. One woman did it already and I think it’s enough.”

Lorcan’s words toward Lyria sounded quite harsh.

The exercise eventually came to an end but Lorcan stood there with her.

She heard Rowan ordering the team to go back to base.

“Tower, this is Iceman, requesting permission for a flyby.”

“Request denied, Iceman.”

“Get your arse back to base, Whitethorn,” shouted Lorcan over the comms.

Aelin stared at Rowan’s jet, the only one still in the air and looked at the very strange trajectory.

Then it was a matter of a second and a deafening noise startled her and a second later she heard a curse. Lorcan had spilled his hot coffee on his uniform and was now threatening the worst punishments for Rowan. She wanted to laugh but she restrained herself.

“Let’s go back down, captain. Your boyfriend is in for a treat.”

They got back inside and by the time they were back in the hangar the five jets were parked as well and Rowan was complimenting his team for a nice training session.

“Whitethorn.” Shouted Lorcan marching up to him “The tower clearly denied you the flyby. What is your problem?”

His green eyes landed on her and she saw a flash of amusement in them.

“I should ask you the same thing, sir. Your uniform needs a change.” With his head he pointed at the stained clothing.

“Your arse in my office. Now.”

Rowan stood to attention and followed Lorcan. He looked at Aelin and winked at her.

“Did you enjoy that, captain?” It was Gavriel’s voice at her side.

“Immensely. It was super fun to watch.” She sighed “I know that when you guys do it for real is not fun, but this drill was awesome.”

She turned to where Rowan and Lorcan had disappeared and got worried “Will he be okay?”

It was Connall who answered “they will yell at each other for a while. Lorcan will call the captain reckless. Explain to him what regulations say with regard to the dear practice of buzzing the tower.”

“What’s buzzing the tower?” She interrupted not recognising the expression.

“The manoeuvre the captain did. It’s a very low pass made to startle or frighten someone. The noise of the jets, as you have experienced is quite high. The captain knew the commodore was with you and very likely had coffee.”

“It was a stupid thing to do.” Added Gavriel not happy “he knows that manoeuvre is dangerous.”

“Let the man have some fun. With all the shit that is going on he has been in a foul mood.”

Gavriel growled at Fenrys “first of all, our job is not to have fun. If that’s what you want, well I have got news for you, boyo. You are in the wrong job.” Gavriel moved closer to the young lieutenant “the captain has lost a student. Have some fucking respect for someone who is grieving.”

Gavriel shouted some orders to the ground crew and moved away “it was a pleasure to see you again, captain.”

She waved back at the man. She liked him. The three young men followed as well.

Not knowing what to do she found her way back to his office, thinking it to be the best and safest option. He came back to her half an hour later and he did not seem too mad.

“Are you two still alive?” She asked him as he walked into the office and lay down on the sofa.“Yeah, he is still alive. I told him to fuck off only once.”

She stood from his chair and walked to him “buzzing the tower was not a great idea.”

He looked at her with curiosity.

She tilted her head “they guys explained the manoeuvre to me.

He stood, closed the distance and his arms went around her waist “I was saying hi to you…” he kissed her “and when I saw Lorcan I knew he’d have coffee with him. He always does.” He kissed her again “and can I add how much of a turn on is when you use technical terms?”

“You are evil.” She poked him in the chest.

“No news there,” another kiss “did you enjoy the show?”

“It was awesome. So, so awesome. And you are quite incredible, captain. And I also recognised one of the manoeuvres from the book you were reading on the beach.” She told him all excited.

“Which one?”

They were so close their bodies were now touching “the high G barrel roll when Gavriel painted you.”

His jump suit was unzipped down till his navel and her hands landed on the t-shirt he wore underneath and he had the suit sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was stunning.

“So… so turned on just now…”

She pressed against him, his hands found their way in her hair and pulled her close for a hot kiss.

“I have so many naughty thoughts as well…”

“And I feel like breaking another rule…” he whispered in her ear and Aelin felt heat pool at her core.

He went to the door and locked it and when he turned he saw that Aelin had removed her hoodie and t-shirt and was sitting on his desk with just trousers and a bra.

Rowan closed the distance in a second, and his mouth claimed hers with an intensity that took Aelin off guard. She had quickly learned that sex with him was never boring and that the man had the power to reduce her to an exhausted mess. Not that she complained…

“I love naughty Rowan,” she teased with a finger on her lips. He moved between her legs, pulling her closer and took the finger in his mouth sucking it and licking it suggestively.

Aelin removed her bra and heard his gasp, then she proceeded to free him from the jump suit and leave him in his black briefs and his grey TAF t-shirt. She looked down and discovered him hard for her. He grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it off.

“Are we doing something about those trousers, captain?”

Aelin smiled and slowly and with provocation unbuttoned her jeans and started lowering the zip. In a swift motion he pulled them down and away, taking her underwear with them, leaving Aelin stark naked “in a rush, captain?”

He bit her earlobe “the door might be locked, but people might still come and look for me.”

“Well, we better be quiet and pretend there is no one in the office.” And she kissed him eliciting a moan from him “I said quiet, captain.”

Aelin jumped off the table and a moment later was on her knees in front of him. Her hands grabbed his butt and then pulled down his briefs “lean against the table, sir.” He did so and a moment later her mouth was on him and he had to restrain himself to stifle the loud moan that threatened to escape from him. She looked up at him in his green eyes and with her tongue licked the tip.

“Fuck,” swore Rowan never breaking eye contact with her. She looked at him and could see lust in his eyes. Her tongue licked the length of him and then she took him in her mouth fully and Rowan let out another curse “If you…” his hands tightened on the desk when she added a hand “continue like this I might not— ” and his protest was cut off when she gently added teeth as well. She still looked at him in challenge and then sucked hard and that was Rowan’s undoing. He pulled her up and deposited her on the desk on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“You wicked, wicked woman…” he told her silencing her protests with a sizzling kiss while a finger slipped into her and Aelin’s back arched at the feeling he coaxed from her. With her legs, she pushed him closer and felt his hardness nudging at her entrance and pulled a bit more as if to tell him what she wanted. He kissed her and his finger hooked inside her teasing that sensitive spot inside her.

“Whitethorn,”she ordered him.

“Such a demanding woman,” and with those words he pushed into her and Aelin had to cover her mouth with her hands to stop the indecent moan that was about to escape from her.

It hadn’t take them long to reach their peaks and now Rowan was leaning on top of an equally spent Aelin. It had been short and intense.

He kissed the space between breasts “I didn’t even have time to greet your friends here,” he added posing gentle kisses on each breasts.

She pulled him in for a kiss “it’s okay… this woman here feels very pleased and satisfied.”

He smiled at her “we better get dressed again. Just in case.” Very quickly they got their clothes back on then Aelin walked to him “I blame the jump suit.”

He raised an eyebrow “not the amazing content inside?”

She kissed him “the jump suit makes the content tastier.”

“Come on,” he took her hand, unlocked the door and walked out of the office “I promised to show you what we did.”

Aelin squeezed his hand and followed him. He took her around the airbase and they covered all the places that she had mentioned needed changes. The works on hangar bay 2 were almost over and the place was still empty but in far batter shape that last time she had seen it. Aelin walked closer to the walls and touched them “fire retardant paint?”

Rowan nodded “Aedion suggested it. The whole of hangar 2 is painted in it. And once the works here are all done, we will do the same in the main hangar.” She walked around impressed that they had taken on board every single suggestion she had made “I am impressed, captain. The place looks amazing.”

“Given the budget we got, Lorcan had ordered to do the same in the main hangar.”

“So, the man can do his job. Good to know.”

Rowan took her around the rest of the base and Aelin approved of what she had seen.

“What time is your doctor appointment?” Asked Rowan as they got back to his office.

“I will need to go soon.”

“Will you text me?” He asked her brushing a wild lock of hair from her face.

“I will let you know.”

She had a meeting with a doctor about her return to work. She knew it was only for desk duty but the idea of going back at the station was quite exciting.

Rowan pulled her into an embrace “go get them.” In response she kissed him.

“Don’t kill Lorcan, captain.”

He gave her a huge grin and she left.

-------

the gif above gives you an idea of one of the trick our bird boy pulled.

TAGS:

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@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

@tillyrubes10

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #fanfic #my writing

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taeyohonic · 3 years

Text

stolen dances | chap. 8

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2200

links: prev. | next [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.

“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.

“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.

“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.

“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.

it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.

“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”

the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.

“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.

“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.

after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.

“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.

“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.

after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.

“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.

“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.

“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.

with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.

“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.

“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.

two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.

his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.

“_____”

no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.

“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.

a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.

“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.

“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.

two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.

you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.

“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.

“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.

“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.

“i know”

another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.

“have you eaten?”

“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.

“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.

“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.

“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.

“for five months”, he specifies.

“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.

“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”

yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.

“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.

“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.

but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.

“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.

“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.

“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.

“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”

jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.

“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.

“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.

“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.

just… great.

“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?

“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.

“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.

“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.

“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.

“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.

“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.

“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.

your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.

“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…

“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.

“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.

“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”

“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”

he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.

“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”

you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.

“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.

“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”

he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.

“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”

you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”

your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.

“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.

“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.

jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.

“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.

you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.

“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”

“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.

“i still like you way too much for my own good.”

he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.

you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.

bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.

before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.

subject: duchess potatoes are back.

_____

happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!

i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.

i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…

all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad @kimluvwoo @jinsearthh

#btswriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #idol!jungkook #ceo!jungkook #bts x reader #bts angst #bts scenarios

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Click (Part II: Shino)

Synopsis: You invited everyone out to dinner. You also audibly clicked. People had opinions about this.

Word Count: 1,300

Warnings: Mild Bullying, Fem!Reader

Part I: Shikamaru, Part II: Shino, Part III: Neji, Part IV: Rock Lee , Part V: Naruto, Part VI: Kiba, FINALE, The Message in Click

Notes: There is a part I with Shikamaru. While this can be a stand-alone oneshot, it would make more sense to read the part I first.

You clicked. Hardly audibly, but just loud enough for Shino’s bugs to hear. When you clicked to yourself, Shino felt a confused shuffle inside of his body of beetles clicking back. Though, it wasn’t as if you heard their response. Shino didn’t think you noticed him in general so it surprised him to hear from his insect friends that you were on your way over to speak to him.

Shino decided to take a break from his training. Sitting on a fallen log, he reached for his water bottle just as you appeared out from the woods. You ran over to him, waving from across the training ground.

“Long day, huh?” Shino gave an unenthused grunt as a response. You stood in front of his seated figure, joyfully rocking on your heels. You let out a click and the beetles scurried restlessly across Shino’s face.

“Is there something you needed?” The question came out with Shino’s usual bluntness. He tapped his foot, fully expecting a disgusted remark about his kikaichū. Instead you giggled. Shino frowned, a more confused look creeping across his features. He wasn’t used to making people laugh.

“Well, I know it’s short notice, but I’m inviting everyone out for dinner tonight. My treat!” You chirped. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

Shino pursed his at the offer, not completely sure about how he felt about you. The bugs in his chest swarmed. A fluttering came from around his heart. You rocked patiently in front of him, fingers fiddling with your qipao.

“And want me there?” Shino asked, sceptical that someone remembered to invite him out.

“Yeah, of course!” You beamed with another laugh. “You’re always the life of the party, Shino!” Your voice ran straight through him.

“I… am...” The sentence was as much of a statement as it was a question.

“Why, of course you are!” Shino thought he might faint. He saw your lips moving but the sound of shuffling beetles drowned your voice. A blush peaked out from underneath his circular glasses. Another horde of bugs scurried across his features. The whole colony had been whipped into a tizzy. “I’ll see you there are around seven?”

Shino felt himself nod and you clicked. Too lost in his own thoughts, Shino didn’t notice you leave. He also didn’t catch where he was supposed to meet you.

***

Shino had a theory. Shino had a theory that whenever Kiba got lonely, he and Akamaru would purposely sniff him out just to bother him. Perhaps being a nuisance wasn’t the intent, but it was certainly what ended up happening. Today proved to be no different. As soon as Shino reentered the main section of the village, his teammate bounded towards him, hound in tow.

“Shino, my man, we’ve been searching for you everywhere!” Shino rolled his eyes behind his dark spectacles and proceeded to walk away. Kiba quickly ran after him, tugging on Shino’s sleeve. “Really? C’mon, dude!” Shino grumbled, continuing his stroll without paying mind to his boisterous companion. Kiba pouted, but ran along. “Let’s get Hinata!” Kiba offered, trotting alongside the bug-handler. “We’re already going her direction and she loves walks like this.”

“Since when are we going on a walk?”

Kiba ran off before Shino could finish his sentence. He let out a sigh but trudged along anyway. He assured himself that Hinata's estate was close. Kiba darted around with Akamaru in the near distance. Shino shoved his hands in his pockets. His head retreated into his collar, an old habit of his.

Shino spotted the Hyūga compound in the distance. If anyone knew the quickest way to the clan’s estate, it was the members of Team Eight. Your clicking could be heard down the block. You didn’t seem to see the duo coming your way and you soon hurried the other direction with excitement.

“There goes ‘Tick’.” Kiba sniggered aloud, returning to Shino’s side as they fast approached the gates to Hinata’s estate.

“Huh?”

Kiba didn’t answer and hurried into the courtyard where they found Hinata training with Neji. She had her fingers interlocked behind her head as she panted, taking deep breaths in and out. Neji gave her modest praise for her work. Hinata’s frosted-over eyes widened with joy as she smiled at her comrades.

“Hey, Hyūga twins!” Kiba pointed finger guns at the two nobles. Hinata let out a courteous laugh. Neji crossed his arms over his chest, unamused. “Are you coming with us to Yakiniku tonight?”

Hinata looked down.

“Yes, of course.” She spoke quietly. Neji took a quick glance between the members of Team Eight. He cocked a brow.

“Don’t you mean Shus-”

“Nope!” Kiba interjected. He locked eyes with the eldest Hyūga. “Yakiniku.”

***

Team Eight entered Yakiniku Q together. Tenten, Neji, and Lee had already beaten them there and picked out a lengthy table that could seat everyone. Shino sat at the far end with the quieter members of Team Guy and found himself thankful for his choice as more of the Rookie Twelve poured in.

The table became fuller. Naruto and Sakura came in together with Sai trailing behind. Two, four, ten… Shino frowned. He leaned over to Kiba who was in the middle of ordering half the menu.

“Kiba.” Kiba’s attention tore from the retreating waiter. Shino’s voice was low. “We don’t have enough space at this table.” But the Inuzuka brushed him off, instead turning his focus to an eating contest between Naruto and Lee.

Shino scanned the room. A bowl of rice was placed in front of him. Meat grilled on the table. Team Ten had yet to show, but Shino wasn’t focused on Team Ten. He focused more on you. After all, you had invited everyone out and on your dime. Shino squinted, counting the seats again. A hand went to his chin. He stood up, needing no further confirmation. Kiba watched carefully in his peripheral as Shino made his way around the table. He stood as well.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kiba put a hand up to Shino’s chest, stepping to the side to block his path.

“I know what you did.” Shino said lowly, graveness in his voice. Kiba looked off to the side. No one at the table seemed to pay any mind to their showdown.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Where is she?”

Rage crackled in his monotone voice. Shino’s composure didn’t betray him, but Kiba knew he had crossed a line. He didn’t have time to speak before the Aburame pushed passed him, leaving through the door that Shikamaru had just come through.

Shino stepped into the street. His beetles swarmed out of his body. Wordlessly, he commanded them to search for you.

***

He received word that you were at Shushu-ya a while later. Shino had scoured the village, looking for you everywhere. He even went to your apartment, but to no avail. The Aburame flash stepped as quickly as he could to Shushu-ya.

He burst open through the doors. Shino ignored the maître d'hôtel and rushed across the floor. He hoped silently that he wasn’t too late. His heart pounded in his chest and the bugs fluttered around his ribs restlessly.

That’s when he saw you. Relief washed over him first. You were there and you weren’t hurt. But then he caught sight of Shikamaru. The two of you sat together at a table for two. The feeling of relief renewed itself as you laughed. But it faltered. Why was he making you laugh so much?

Shino sighed and put his hands in his pockets. At least someone was there to cheer you up. He pivoted on his heel, calling all of his bugs back to him. He didn’t want to intrude. Shino was grateful that someone remembered you on your birthday just like you remembered him.

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

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samirant · 3 years

Text

Getting this juuuuust under the wire. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @naomignome!!!

Day 621

At the newest round of giggles down the hall, Brienne took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was the Thorn President-Elect, not their den mother. Their quiet study area on the second floor of the house, once filled end to end with studious sisters, had dwindled down to only her and a few others. Truth be told, Brienne was done with her exams, but was sticking around until their last member was finished, just in case of last minute nerves.

Most everyone else was packing up and blowing off steam. And giggling. A lot.

“Brienne,” someone hissed from down the hall. “Come look!”

She reluctantly got up, cast a glance around the room and decided that if they needed her, she wouldn’t be far. And if she was able to clear out the noisemakers? Bonus.

Elinor grabbed her hand once she came into view and pulled her to the front window. “Some Sigma got strapped in!” she gleefully reported.

“Really?” Brienne drew up to the glass and craned to see down the block, where a herd of guys in red shirts was lugging an item - well, a person - between them. She’d seen it a few times over the last couple of years, but while it was a… celebration of sorts, it wasn’t a dignified one.

Jaime and his cohorts had insisted it was a cherished tradition, but Brienne always thought it was a little mean to duct tape a newly engaged man to a slab of lumber and then cart him around campus before delivering him to his intended.

Okay, so it was a little funny.

Still mean, though.

Curious, Brienne squinted at the crowd of men and asked, “Who is it?”

“Can’t tell yet,” Meera replied. “Did you hear of anyone planning to pop the question?”

There was a chorus of no idea and I don’t think so’s and Myranda sniggered something about someone managing to get their MRS degree right under the wire. It was perhaps unkind to agree with her, but Brienne had seen a rash of quick engagements from other houses at the end of each semester and couldn’t necessarily say Myanda was wrong and then suddenly someone gave a muffled scream and another girl loudly shrieked and then, as one, every single sister on the landing turned in one direction.

Hers.

Brienne took a small step back, from them and from the procession that had made it to the Theta front lawn and stopped there. Her voice quavered to match how her knees had gone watery. “What?”

Wide eyes met hers for a solid two seconds, all of them frozen in place, and then Elinor trilled, “You and Jaime are ENGAGED?”

It broke the standstill and they descended on her from every angle, with demands for an explanation, calls of congratulations, some happy cries of I KNEW IT and more hugs than she’d received in the last six months combined, not counting from Jaime.

Jaime.

What.

The.

Fu-

“Jaime,” Brienne nearly shouted, and broke away from her ecstatic sisters and their pleas to see the ring. What ring?! she wanted to shout, but “I need to go check on Jaime” came out instead.

They stampeded down the stairs after her, but she legged it with a determination that had her first out the door, where she nearly slammed into Addam where he was about to knock and Brienne demanded, “What did you do?”

“Well, may I be the first to offer my congra-” Addam fell sideways into some shrubbery when Brienne elbowed him out of the way. Served him right.

“HEY!” came the loud cheer from her brother frat, with fists pumping in the air and a fair few jumping up and down, all of them surrounding Jaime, who hovered roughly a foot above everyone else due to the position they’d put him in. Duct taped him in. Same difference.

Jaime caught sight of her and wiggled in what would have been a frantic motion if he hadn’t been duct taped so securely. She couldn’t guess how many rolls they’d used, except that it was nearly from neck to toes, with tiny strips of his clothes peeking through where the tape didn’t completely overlap. His eyes were big and pleading and he would definitely have been giving her some sort of explanation if one large piece of silvery tape wasn’t keeping his mouth steadfastly shut.

Pod, not reading Brienne’s horror at all, dropped to one knee and held out a pair of scissors to her as the other boys yelled out Sigma! Theta! Sigma! Theta!, the cries taking on a higher pitch as the Thetas joined in and Brienne had to take yet another deep breath to skirt around all of them to get to Jaime and to slooooowly peel away the tape from his face.

“Jaime,” Brienne said as she did it, with a calm that unnerved even her. “What is this about?”

“Hell if I know, they jumped me out of nowhere,” Jaime rasped out and glared at everyone else. Raising his voice to be heard over the clamor, he asked, “Does anyone else want to explain?”

“You can’t be that pissed,” Addam said as he approached, brushing away leaves and twigs from his clothes. “You were the first one to break out the tape when it was Bronn’s turn.”

“That’s because he was actually engaged,” Jaime said in vicious, seething tones, enough to make everyone around him finally go silent.

Addam faltered and then waved his finger between the two of them. “You mean, you two aren’t…”

“No!” Jaime and Brienne retorted in exasperated tandem.

Whirling on Lancel, Addam said, “You told me they were!”

“You took his word for it?” If outright indignation were enough to break Jaime’s bindings, Lancel would have been in real trouble, but Jaime could only wiggle in place some more. “Lancel?”

“But you said so!” His cousin looked startled and skittered backwards when Brienne took a step towards him. “He did! Yesterday!”

“Well, that’s news to me!” Jaime thrashed around with little effect and Brienne returned to his side, carefully taking the scissors from Pod’s slack grip as she did.

“And me,” Brienne said as she started carefully snipping away. She had to set a hand on Jaime’s chest to make him stay still, continuing on when he did. It took more effort to ignore the assembly of friends encircling them, listening with rapt attention.

“Start running, Lancel,” Jaime ordered but Brienne fixed a glare on the Lannister cousin, freezing him in place.

“He did, though,” Lancel whined plaintively, apparently deciding Brienne was his last chance for refuge from Jaime’s anger. “Last night, we were all shooting the shit and I told him what my dad said and Jaime said it was true.”

“I said what?”

Brienne patted his chest and took another long breath. “Lancel?” she said as evenly as possible. “Explain.”

“Our dads were talking about all of us,” Lancel nervously began. “Uncle Tywin was telling my dad how much he likes you for Jaime, how you suit each other” - Jaime’s chest went still under her hand and then he moaned an almost indecipherable oh good gods - “and I told Jaime about that and he said-”

“I know what I said!” Jaime tried to interject, to no avail.

“-he said, ‘yeah, I’m going to marry that girl’,” Lancel finished triumphantly.

“Oh,” Brienne said. It came out far more softly than the blaring cacophony in her head. It came out again, without her say so. “Oh.”

Then she turned and focused on freeing Jaime, not looking him in the eye as he called Lancel an idiot with renewed passion.

“So you… didn’t propose?” Lancel backed away slowly.

“I think you just did it for me, thanks,” Jaime said sarcastically. He sounded like his first point of order would be to wrap his hands around his cousin’s neck but when Brienne finally let his hands loose, they fell to his sides and she could feel his eyes on her. “Brienne?”

“It was a misunderstanding, it’s fine,” she said quietly and started sawing away at another chunk of tape. Jaime reached out, his hands going over hers and he asked, somewhere past her, “Can we get some privacy, maybe?”

There were several awkward moments as most everyone found something better to do - and likely far away from Jaime’s retribution - but when it was discovered that the post Jaime was attached to still needed support to stay upright, Addam braved coming close and said, “I’ll hold it up, but I’m not even here, I swear.”

“Uh-huh,” Jaime muttered as Addam held his hands against the back of the post and then turned his head to stare in the opposite direction. When most everyone else scattered, Jaime looked back at her and said, “Sorry about all this.”

“Don’t apologize.” Brienne gave undue attention to where his shoulder was still strapped down. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jaime sighed. “Then why does it feel like I did?”

“Because it’s your family members that tend to do some real questionable shit?” Addam suggested.

“I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t here,” Jaime snarled over his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. Not here starting… now.”

Brienne laughed under her breath and put her forehead against the shoulder she freed and Jaime tilted his head down to rest on hers.

“This isn’t how I thought I’d ask,” Jaime murmured against her hair and Brienne was too overwhelmed to feel surprised anymore. She’d be a liar if she claimed she never thought of their future; surely Jaime had, too. “Thought it’d be a while from now. Less public, less telephone style through my dad and cousin and maybe less duct tape, too.”

“Well, good news,” Brienne said against his shirt, “you haven’t asked.”

“That’s true. I haven’t asked,” Jaime said and she felt him nudge his nose against her head and Brienne smiled as she tilted her face up. He kissed her, sweetly and with promise. “And you haven’t said no.”

“No,” Brienne replied. “It seems I haven’t.”

#rush me all night long #day 621 #jaime x brienne #my fic #ficlet #i know nothing about frats and sororities #but i DO know about some absurd traditions #and one i knew came rarin' around for this special edition #for our dearly beloved naomignome on her birthday #naomignome

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: coward :: brat Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: you finally see Miya Atsumu after six years, meanwhile, he feels pain when he realizes that you settled down with someone else that wasn’t him. notes: i um want to thank yall for supporting this story im- crying T-T I’m happy to inform everyone that i’ll be updating this twice a week every monday and saturday! yay!!! i was able to finish editing and im writing the last two chapters now. stay safe and big love to each and everyone of you <3

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“...Uh, Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, I thought you guys weren’t allowed to go.” Sugawara laughed nervously, knowing all too well where this would lead. He’s familiar with over-enthusiastic boys, in fact, one of those over-enthusiastic balls of sunshine was here right now entertaining them.

“K-Kaasan says it’s alright.” Yuuto lies but Sugawara quirked his brow, it was so obvious that he was lying.

“Yep, she did!” Youta grins, trying to help his twin but like him, he’s failing drastically.

“Then you won’t mind if I call your okaasa-”

“No!” Youta and Yuuto yell in unison. This made other people turn their way, Miya Atsumu watched the pair in amusement from afar. He noticed that they were late and that Sugawara had caught on to their scheme of joining in even without the parental consent, “We won’t join!” Youta proclaims, “Right, yu? W-We’ll pick up balls!”

Hinata feels his eyes glimmer at those words and decides to help them convince Sugawara but in the end, the twins were forced to be benched while the grey-haired teacher had to go back to the faculty to call you.

“It’s alright,” Hinata ruffles both their hairs, “We’ll try to come back next time and I’ll be sure to help convince your ‘kaasan.”

“Hey don’t plant false ideas in their head, Shoyou.” Atsumu grins, lazily jogging to their side. He directs his gaze to the twins that seem to oddly remind him of him and ‘samu when they were younger. The boy's gaze lingered a bit too long on him,unlike other kids who stared at him in awe, these ones were seething, “What are ya lookin’ at, kid?”

“Wow,you’re as mean as your brother.” Yuuto notes, eyeing him up and down.

“Yeah.” Youta echoes.

Atsumu quirks a brow, this was quite the new reaction. Never in his life had a kid told him that he was mean as ‘Samu also how did they even know his twin brother?

“Now, now, don’t you think you should cut me some slack?” Atsumu tried to jokebut the twins remained unamused by the blonde’s antics, somehow Atsumu felt a sense of familiarity from their monotonous reactions.

“No thanks.” Yuuto crossed his arms, “The fake Atsumu made ‘kaasan cry and since you look like him, you might make ‘kaasan cry too.”

“What he said!” Youta agreed loudly, copying his older brother’s action.

Atsumu was just plain confused now, he admitted that Osamu had an attitude sometimes when he was annoyed but letting a mom cry in front of her kids? That’s definitely new and not-so ‘samu like (after all, he was apparently the nicer one between them)

“What’s the name of your okaasan-”

“Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, Your mom will be picking you up at the gate! Please go there now.” Sugawara cuts him off, Youta and Yuuto stand up and eye him for a bit.

“We’ll defeat you and your brother! Just wait and see, we’ll be as big as you and that other jiji!” Yuuto exclaims and before Atsumu could retaliate, they’re running off to the opposite direction. Hinata was laughing beside him, clutching his sides because apparently he was too petty while Sugawara looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“I wonder why L/N-san didn’t allow them to go, she’s usually very supportive of their hobbies, especially volleyball.” Sugawara frowns, suddenly voicing out his thoughts. Atsumu felt his shoulders stiffen at the sound of that familiar name.

Osamu revealed he saw you last week then these kids suddenly confessed that his twin made their okaasan cry, he’s never seen you cry throughout your relationship (save for that night when you first me but you guys weren't together yet so that didn’t count). Maybe he was mistaken? it might be your relative or a common name.

After all, you were clear about not wanting a family.

“You know their mom well?” Hinata inquired, Atsumu seems to be listening closely now, wanting to confirm if the person that Sugawara was talking about is you.

“Oh yeah, we're around the same age so I’m much closer to her than the other moms.” Sugawara blinks, “Those boys have to listen to their okaasan more. She’s raising them on her own since their dad died before he even got to know that L/N-san was pregnant. She seemed to be longing for him whenever he’s mentioned.”

A crease appeared on the blonde's forehead as he was suddenly in deep thought. It couldn’t be, right?

“Uh, Sugawara-san, may I know the name of the mom? Her last name sounds kind of familiar.” he questions, pretending to be nonchalant but inside, he feels like he had his heart on his throat.

If it was you, he’d feel those things that he desperately tried to hide behind his confident jokes and laughs.

The pain.

The pain that you chose someone else and was open enough to the idea of starting a family. If that guy probably hadn’t died, you’d be together, happily raising those boys he had just met a while ago. Happily married, something that Atsumu tried to mention one fleeting moment while you were together back in college but you immediately shut the idea down and left him a month later.

The pain that you fell in love in a span of moments unlike Atsumu who relentlessly tried to gain your favour and follow you around like a lost puppy.

“Oh, her name’s Y/N L/N.”

Thankfully nothing unexpected happened after what the twins did, they ended up having to pick if they wanted their video game rights removed for a week or cancel their plans with their favorite ojisan who was coming by a few weeks from now, they chose the first one on that.

They had even mentioned that they met the real Miya Atsumu and although you felt like your heart lurched out of your chest and your shoulders stiffen at the mention of that man --- their father--- they simply had called him a rude jiji like his brother much to your relief.

“L/N-san, we seem to have a problem.” Aiko frowned, handing the papers to you, “The director of the advertisement department wants a bigger budget, do you mind running it through him again? You have to go to the studio though, I heard they’re doing some photo shoot now.”

You nodded in reply, taking the papers from your co-worker. The studio was a bit far so you ended up having to commute to get there, “What a nuisance.” You muttered, you needed to buy a second-hand car soon when you had enough money. It would definitely be easier for both you and the boys, “Uh excuse me? Is Nakamura-san here?” you asked the secretary on the front desk.

“And who are you?” the secretary snapped back, still typing away on her computer.

“Y/N L/N from the finance department, I have to run through the new budget liquidation with him.”

The secretary one-eyes you and the ID on your neck for a split second, “You better be quick, the boss wants only five minutes per guest since he’s personally handling the shoot today.” was all she replied, handing you the pass. You muttered a quick thank you and made your way up to the studio, whoever the model was today, they must’ve been big for Nakamura to handle them personally.

“Oh-ho, is that who I think it is?” a very, very familiar voice calls out.

“Inunaki-san.” You greeted, trying to maintain yourself, were these the big clients that Nakamura was handling? The black jackals? good fucking gracious, god must hate you.

“Wow,” he shakes his head, feigning amusement, “You’re still so calm and cool.”

You narrowed your eyes at the insult but you waved it off, “And you’re playing for a national team, congratulations.” you replied in a blank tone, your senior probably knew what happened between you and his fellow member. You wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he reacted the same way as Osamu did.

“We’re actually doing a shoot now, would you like me to call Atsu-”

“No.” your usual calm tone switched to a colder one, “I’m working now and so is Miya-san, please don’t bother yourself.”

“Gee,” he raised his hands, signalling defeat, “Just say you don’t want to see him. You don’t need to be so cold to me, my dear little kohai.”

“I have to go back to my job, I’m on the clock here.” You ignored his previous statement, “It was nice seeing you again Inunaki-san.”

Before you could give him a chance to reply, you headed towards the studio. You took a deep breath and mentally calculated to three.

one.

It’s been six years, Miya Atsumu would ignore you. He wouldn’t care about the girl who left him out to dry in college. He’s got a girlfriend now, a model who has legs for days and looks ten times better than you and acts more like a girlfriend than you ever did.

two.

Yes, that’s right, he wouldn’t care.

three.

You entered the studio, you could feel the air tighten around you as soon as you heard that laughter. The one you used to hear everyday and never get tired of. For all the laughs you couldn’t do, he’d do it for you and boy, was he patient around you since you didn’t smile a lot back then (who were you kidding? until now you still had the same problem except when the kids were around)

You want to stop and stare, you want to admire him and his glory that you were very much proud of.

Yet your legs continue to carry you to your boss, the laughter seems to have ceased and you could hear someone asking him what was wrong.

“Oh, L/N-san?” Nakamura greeted you, “You’re here for the renewal of the budget?”

You nodded feverishly, your legs seem to be turning into jelly because you want to collapse from the nervousness and thank god that you wore some make-up before arriving here, otherwise, they would’ve noticed how pale you looked, “Everything seems to be in order,” He nods, scanning the sheets and handing them back to you, “Are you busy right now?”

You glanced at the wall clock, checking the time to see if you could extend your stay and Nakamura is quick to pick up on it, “Ah right, you’ve got kids to pick up. It’ll be quick, just help set up the blocks there and you’re free to leave.” he orders.

You nodded obediently and slowly turned to the side only to catch the very familiar chocolate brown eyes of the blonde. You feel your heart hammering in your chest and your feet turn cold, it had been six years since you last saw Miya Atsumu and he was still as winsome and exhilarating as he was back then.

You may have seen him a lot on television but seeing him, right here, a few feet away from you was different. Taking in a big gulp of air, you started working on the set-up as quickly as you could yet you could still feel his burning gaze remaining on you, “Tsum-tsum, lay off her will you.” came Inunaki Shion’s loud voice snaps him out of his daze.

Great, that little twat had to make an appearance.

“Y/N-san you should really say hi,” Inunaki teased as soon as you finish your set-up.

“Oh? You’re Y/N L/N?” the orange one gushed, quickly up on his feet, you recall him as Hinata Shoyou, Youta’s favorite orange-haired ninja, “Sugawara-san’s friend?”

You hesitantly nodded, “Oh, you know her Sho-kun?” Shion asked, seemingly amused by it all.

“What are you all crowding here for, Hinata?” Another asked, peering in them closely. This one must’ve been Bokuto, another favorite of Yuuto.

“Sugawara-san’s friend! she’s the mother of those two boys in the training camp who had to go home early!” he suddenly turns to you and then grins, “Ne, ne, the boys really seem to want to attend one of those. Why don’t you allow them to join us-”

“Forget it, Hinata.” Atsumu suddenly speaks out, that warm voice that you were accustomed to seemed cold and menacing now, “She won’t allow it.”

Shion notices the tension between you two and when he’s about to usher the energetic duo away back to the dressing room along with the other members, you let out a quiet sigh and spoke out, “I was on my way to leave, please don’t bother yourselves.” You simply replied, you didn’t waver and stared at him dead in the eye, this could be the moment to end it all and cut ties with him officially, “I apologize for what I did back then, Miya-san. I should’ve told it to you in person. I offer my sincere congratulations to you for making it this far.”

The blonde clenched his jaw, it seemed like he wanted to say something to you yet when he realizes the usual calm and collected demeanor you're putting up, he decides against it and leaves you alone by storming away first.

Hinata and the guy named Bokuto looked at you --- completely puzzled and lost like a deer in the headlights --- before following the blonde, “You truly are in a whole ‘nuther level, Y/N.” Shion whistles, “Heard you’ve got two boys now though. Congrats, where's the poor bastard?”

You continue to watch the back of Atsumu Miya. Finally, it seemed like he’d left you alone and probably for good this time, “Gone, off to a better place.” was all you replied.

Inunaki notices the longing in your voice, a completely unfamiliar emotion he had never seen back then even when you and Atsumu were together. It seemed like you and Atsumu were both the poor bastards in the end.

Miya Atsumu sleeps alone that night.

He doesn’t call his girlfriend back despite the several missed calls, he doesn’t reply to the unanswered text of his brother and his teammates. All he feels is pain tonight, pain because of your very dry apology, pain because of your bland expression. Pain because you didn’t seem to care like that time six years ago.

He shuts his eyes tight and he feels as if he’s back in college, back to that winter night where he received that dreaded phone call from you after you disappeared from him. He remembered those days clearly, your apartment had been cleaned out and paid for, you weren’t answering him on social media, your phone line was also unresponsive and he couldn’t even call your family since you never mentioned anything about them at all.

You both may have been intimate for the past two years but when you disappeared, he had the frightening realization that he didn’t know you at all.

He didn’t want to push you out of your comfort zone, he wanted you to lead the relationship but right at that moment, he wished he pried just a bit since he was worried about you.

Then in the midst of his anxiety, it came, that phone call.

“Atsumu.” your usual calm voice filled his ears and he suddenly feels the weight of the world is removed from his shoulders, thank god you were okay.

“Y/N? Baby? Where are you?”

“Out.”

“Where outside exactly?” Miya Atsumu dryly asks, “It’s cold, you shouldn’t be out now and wandering about. Would you like me to pick you up-”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you suddenly cut him off and the line goes quiet. The blonde feels the world around him quiet down too when he hears those words that he wished he heard wrong.

“What’s, what’s wrong? Y/N, are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” You mutter, ��I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what exactly?”

“Of you, of us…”

“Y/N, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes.” Your voice remained dead calm as if you just hadn’t broken his heart in a million pieces that moment, “Let’s stop this here now, Atsumu. Let’s break-up.”

“That’s…” He tries to keep the mood light, praying that this is one of your dark jokes, “That’s not funny, Y/N.”

“It’s not supposed to be since it’s not a joke.”

Your response was curt as usual and he doesn’t know whats worse, the fact that you’re breaking up over the phone or the fact that your tone remains stable and the same.

“Y/N, don’t do this...Baby don’t do this over the phone.” His tone seemed desperate at this point, “I’m not stopping this until you tell me what's wrong between us, you have to give me something to work with Y/N. Is it something I did?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ya don’t know?” Atsumu started to raise his tone when he notices how unaffected you seem at the other line.Frustration slowly started to bubble in him, the accent turning thicker as he got angrier, “Y/N ya can’t just disappear out of the blue and call me one day and tell me you want to break up! Do you think I’m some sort of fling? Some one-night stand or fuck buddies? We’ve been together for two years, Y/N. Two whole fucking years, What’s wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Yes.”

The line went dead silent again and he hates it, he doesn’t know what to say as his face contorts in sadness and confusion.

“I don’t…” He starts to feel a lump grow on his throat when he hears how easy it was for you to say, he knew he was in love with you more than you were with him. Many had pointed out how dangerous and how painful it would be on his side in the end, he couldn’t believe it would hurt him this much, “ I don’t fucking believe you, say it right at my face. Where the hell are ya? Let’s talk this one out in person.”

“Don’t bother, I just don’t want to see you again.”

“Y/N you can’t just-”

“I can and I will.” You cut him off, your voice was growing more and more detached and he feels like he’s back to that moment two years ago where you didn’t spare him a glance and treated him like a scrub, he hears a hefty sigh on your side and the next few words is another bullet to his heart, “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Atsumu.”

“You…” he shakily replied, trying to mask his grief with a painful chuckle. He wants to be mad at you, he wants to yell at you but for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to, “Jesus christ, you really are something, Y/N. You just broke my heart over the the fucking phone and all you could do is say sorry?”

“Sorry.” you say, like a broken-record on repeat and he hates it. He hates how he feels like this was nothing for you.

“Don’t you dare say that again when you don’t mean it-” He spat and before he could finish what he had to say, the phone line went dead. He tried to call again but it seemed like you had used a payphone. Out of complete vexation, he hurls his phone right across the room towards the blue photo frame with the both of you in it.

The sound of broken glass shards and ragged breathing is the only thing heard in the quiet apartment.

It’s not even the peak of winter that night yet he feels so numb and cold.

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @ryaaaax ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @Etherynaw ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ;

#haikyu!! fanfics #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #coward series

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 10 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9)

Nixon - April 1944

There was a fresh energy about Emily, a lightness in her step that had never been there before. Nixon first noticed it that Monday morning when she trotted into the intelligence room with a box of what looked like handicraft materials.

“Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her smile seemed brighter against her red lips.

“‘Morning,” Nixon responded. Emily looked particularly nice that day, Nixon noted. Her hair seemed bouncier, shinier, and her legs looked as nice as ever in those black heels and nylons. This was all objectively speaking of course. She was a new woman and her renewed energy showed magnetically. Nixon wasn’t the only one to notice either; he didn’t miss the creeping eyes of other staff members doing their best to sneak a glance at Emily.

“Nix,” the voice of Dick Winters interrupted his train of thought. Nixon dropped the report he was meant to be reading and looked up at his lean, copper haired friend.

“What?”

“We’re both needed in Colonel Sink’s office.”

“Right,” Nixon stood up from his desk, his chair shifting loudly behind him.

The remainder of the day passed in monotonous agony as Nixon was pulled from one meeting to another to trainings and back again with only quick trips back to the intelligence office to grab a file or notes. At each brief return, Nixon found Emily poised at her desk, dead focused on the slowly growing stack of aerial photos on her desk. Curiosity lined with envy poked at him. She seemed so invested in what she was doing surely it was more interesting than what he had been doing all day. He felt like a carrier pigeon bringing information and requests back and forth between intelligence staff, officers, and the war department. Where was the challenge in that?

By the time evening came all Nixon wanted was to drop into bed with a drink. He had promised Welsh that he would meet him for a drink, a promise he now regretted making. The man was quartered at a house in town and it was far too easy for him to slip away to the pub, and since Nixon had privileges that the enlisted men didn’t (and because Winters didn’t drink), Welsh often invited Nixon to be his casual drinking buddy. Nixon didn’t have the same energy for the pub crowds as Welsh did. On more than one occasion he stood his friend up, and this evening was looking like it was about to be one of those times.

Nixon slumped down onto the twin bed in his tight box room and that was it, he wasn’t getting up. He lay there, head barely propped up on the pillow, lacking the energy to even pull his boots off. This wasn’t the same exhaustion he had felt during his training at Toccoa. His body was strong, in fact it felt over-rested, restless. He found himself wishing for that physical fatigue he had once known. Things had grown stale for him at Aldbourne. Generally speaking, he enjoyed the work and he did it well. But recently Nixon felt under stimulated.

Things in his personal life had also become stagnant. His letters home were predictable and polite. He wasn’t lacking in fraternity camaraderie thanks to his friendships with Winters and Welsh and now Emily. He fully considered her a friend, and one he was grateful to know. Yet, Nixon felt himself wanting since the drama of their strained association had ended.

With combat on the horizon, he was conscious of not jinxing the relative peace he was experiencing. But a part of him, deep down, feared his own potential recklessness. He knew himself well enough to suspect that he may just do something that his rational self would regret later if this boredom continued.

Perhaps he should go out for that drink with Welsh, at least for the opportunity to burn off some frustrated energy. Barely lifting his head from the pillow, Nixon tipped a bit of liquor from his flask down his throat as he debated with himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentlest knock at his door. Nixon lifted his head in surprise, he wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Lew? You in there?” A voice murmured through the wooden door.

“Yeah,” Nixon whispered louder back, “come in,” he said as an afterthought.

Slowly, the door was eased open and Emily slipped quickly inside. She was dressed in slacks and a dark blouse tied up loosely around her waist. Although it was late evening and her face looked clean of makeup she still sported her bold red lipstick. She grinned naughtily, obviously feeling rebellious for being in his room at such an hour.

“Emily?” Nixon couldn’t say he wasn’t a little surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

From behind her back Emily produced an open bottle of red wine and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you say?” she smiled charmingly, “up for a little gin?” 

Nixon raised an eyebrow, “I hope you mean the game and not that you have gin in that stoppered bottle of yours.”

  “Don’t be silly! Do you mind?” Emily flopped down on the foot of his bed without waiting for permission. “I’m afraid the wine won’t be up to your usual standard. If I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t very expensive.”

“You always assume me a snob.” Nixon took the bottle from her to check out the label.

“Well, you are kind of a snob. Vat 69 exclusively?”  

“I drink beer.”

“As a supporting act,” Emily said.

Nixon chuckled and handed the bottle back to her, “you don’t know much about whiskey do you?”

“See! That’s something a snob would say!”

“I could be worse.”

“True,” Emily conceded, “you’re a snob but at least you’re not condescending. I’ve met a few guys like that.”

“Notre Dame men?”

“Harvard, I’ve recently met them.”

“Good thing I went to Yale.”

“Oh yes, good thing!” Emily teased.

“Anyways,” Nixon continued, “you may be surprised to know that Vat 69 isn’t the smoothest of whiskeys. Just happens to be my personal preference.”  

Emily eyed him, he could see that she wanted to say something but was holding back.

  “What?” he pried.

“Nothing!” Her voice clearly revealed she didn’t actually mean nothing.

“Tell me.”

Emily chewed on her lip then smiled hesitantly, “do all alcoholics have preferences?”  

Nixon rolled his eyes, “I’m only an alcoholic if it becomes a problem.”

“If?” Emily wrestled the cork from her wine bottle.

 “Has my work performance been slipping, Miss Rooney? Do you have some feedback you would like to offer?”

Emily took a swig from the bottle. Nixon could see the tint of ox blood red blossom between her cherry lips before she swallowed. “Not at all Captain.”   

Nixon’s mouth twisted in distaste and he gestured for her to pass the bottle. She took another drink before handing it over, “actually,” she said smacking her lips, “I did have a question - or actually something I wanted to share - from when I was looking over a few of those surveillance pictures. I noticed that there was this hedge, or like fence, or something in a place that isn’t showing up on the topographers’ maps. I think that may change or impact whatever’s in the works.”

Nixon nodded thoughtfully, “okay, good to know. We can go over it in more detail tomorrow or next time we’re both in the office. But enough shop talk, why are you here again?”  

Emily held up the deck of cards triumphantly, “gin! Want to play? Or am I interrupting plans?” she asked suddenly timid.

Nixon thought about Welsh at the pub. Eh, he probably made some new buddies to drink with, Nixon wasn’t worried. He still felt tired but looking at Emily perched on the end of his bed, he wasn’t about to kick her out. It’s not like he would be sleeping if she left anyways. The most tragic irony of his current state was that his restless exhaustion had made an insomniac out of him.

“Not at all, let’s play.”

 Light seemed to radiate off of her smile in the dimmed room. She tucked her legs under her and dealt the cards. Nixon took another drink of wine, feeling his frustration abate, at least for the night.

Nixon’s workload continued to increase over the next couple of days. He was run ragged by a laundry list of tasks. Although the tasks felt menial, there was the sensation that things were coming to a head. He had known that something big was in the works for a while now. Since he handed those first photos over to Emily he was prepared for what was most likely their invasion of the continent. Finally, it seemed as if it was going to happen.

The intelligence office had been instructed to begin constructing sand tables; miniature, but lifelike maps of the terrain where the allies intended to invade. In a meeting with the higher-ups, Nixon had been instructed not to divulge the location for the impending invasion to anyone. The point of invasion was on a need-to-know basis. The sand tables could be constructed based off of the provided information without having to reveal the actual location. According to Colonel Sink, Emily and other S-2s were to simply be artists for the time being.

Nixon had barely found the time to relay construction instructions to Emily before he was whisked off to another meeting. Ergo, he hadn’t found the time to review the issue she had brought up to him the other night; an inconsistency with the aerial photos and topographical maps.

“Sir,” Emily stood up from her desk when he ducked in to visit his desk one day, “I need to talk to you.”

 Nixon ignored her, focused on his task. He was only there to collect some reports.

“Nixon, sir,” Emily skittered over to his desk. “Sir, I need to show you these photos I pieced together. Remember? I mentioned the other night-,”

“Not now Emily,” Nixon grumbled as he rifled through his papers.

 “Nixon, please it’s important. I think you should know before you proceed any further with whatever is being planned.”

“You can show me later.”

“I could, yes sir, but I think you should know that the topographical maps may not be completely accurate. They’ll need to be altered which means any strategic planning may need changing which I would hate for everyone to have to revise. It would be better to start with the correct information-,”

“Emily! Please!” Nixon finally found the reports he was after. He exited the room quickly with Emily on his heels, her black pumps tip-tapping irritatingly across the wood and carpets of the manor.

“Lewis, I wanted to show you days ago, take a look at these, really quick,” she stuffed the photos under his chin. Nixon snatched them out of her hand exasperatedly, “what?” he demanded.

She was struggling slightly to keep pace with him but managed to point out a row of hedges, thick and wide, that bordered the far right of one photo and the far left of another. Side by side, the photos formed a clear picture. If Emily hadn’t pointed out the hedge, Nixon may have assumed that the dense shrubbery was blurred photo ink.

“Where is this?” 

“It appears to be a large hedgerow right near Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. In fact, it appears to be one of the largest in the area. Sir, it’s not on the topographers’ maps and in my opinion a hedgerow of this size should be included on those maps. It could offer strategic cover for almost the whole battalion. Even possibly an opportune place to set up a rendezvous point? Assuming the Germans aren’t encroaching on that position.” Emily’s voice didn’t waver. She was confident in her work.

“How do you know this is Sainte-Marie-du-Mont?” Nixon kept his voice neutral. Of course he knew that Operation Overlord intended to drop the Airborne into Normandy, but Emily shouldn’t have been the wiser.

Emily returned his suspicious gaze with an emotionless one. There was no hint as to how she discovered the intended invasion point. “I know my maps, sir,” she said.

Nixon couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Thanks for sharing this with me, Miss Rooney. Nice work. I’ll be sure to pass the information along.”

#band of brothers #hbo band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #fanfiction #original character #oc #as far as friends go #harry welsh #dick winters #winnix

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 11 - De Orfeo Records

Summary: Sunset Cure AU, Willex, is there a chance?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Reggie and Carlos were running around in the middle of taking down equipment after their latest gig. Luke shook his head as he wrapped cords over his arm and placed them in a storage box. Alex, however, was nervously trying not to get run into as he carried various pieces of his drum set out and handed them to Bobby in the back of the van. He could forgive Reggie not really helping out since he was taking responsibility for the kid, but also hadn’t anticipated that their energies combined would put him more on edge.

As he went inside to grab the last piece of his set, he found that Reggie had taken his flannel and tied it around his neck like a cape, with Carlos wearing his leather jacket in a similar fashion. They approached Bobby, who immediately joined their game and they pretended to battle each other. By the time Alex had finished getting his whole set in the van, they were playing out a dramatic victory over defeating Bobby.

“Guys, this is great, but we really should finish packing up,” Alex said, although he was smiling from the entertainment.

“I guess you’re the next bad guy we fight,” Carlos said in a mock-deep voice.

“We can schedule it later, Robin,” Alex teased.

“Oh, no, he’s Batman,” Reggie corrected. “I’m Robin!” He put his fists on his hips in a proud superhero pose.

A big SHHHHHH came from Luke and they all looked over at him to see what was up. He was far off by the venue office, holding a phone to his ear and writing onto a notepad. His eyes were wide with excitement, and his energy was only held back by the other hand tapping against the paper. The boys watched as his smile grew bigger and he said goodbye, barely putting the phone back in place properly.

“YEEESS!!” he cried, raising his fists into the air in celebration. They all came running toward him to see what had happened.

“Boys, we’ve got good news!” Luke told them. Looking on in anticipation, Alex gripped his fanny pack tightly. “One of the record execs that came tonight is offering for us to sign onto their label and put out some songs! He even heard our demo!”

Everyone celebrated, jumping up and down and high-fiving each other. Reggie let Carlos climb onto him in a piggyback and they both yelled triumphantly. Luke pulled Alex into a bro hug, then Bobby. Alex held his arms up and placed his hands on top of his head, unable to believe what had just happened. Euphoria filled his head like helium and he went to double-high-five Carlos, who was still perched on Reggie’s back.

“So what else did they say?” Bobby asked, still smiling.

Luke had to shake off some more excitement before he could explain the rest.

“Ahhh, so he said we could meet in a few days to discuss business and contracts and such, let us get a look at the studio and stuff. I got all his contact information and he’s totally excited to get us on. We’re moving on up boys!”

The celebration continued, and their renewed energy caused the rest of the take-down to go by much faster. They were still riding the high as they drove home. Alex listened to Luke talk about which songs they would want to record first and where they would land on the charts. He remembered that feeling he had back at the Pearl during their sound check. Doing that? For real and not just dreaming and hoping about it? They hadn’t made it just yet, but this was a change he could be excited for.

Reggie had been staying with Carlos, which the rest of the boys figured was a good excuse to not stay home. As Bobby pulled up to the house, he and Luke began climbing out of the van. Carlos and Reggie were already inside.

“Uh, guys?” Alex said, still in the back of the van. They all turned back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Luke gestured like oh-silly-me. “We all decided to stay here for the night. It’s just a nice change from the garage and Julie’s aunt has lots of leftovers that need to be eaten so…”

“So...I’m grounded,” Alex reminded, raising his eyebrows. His parents hadn’t been happy about him sneaking out to the pier the other night.

“Screw your old man, Alex,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, he can eat my shorts if he tries to do anything about it,” Luke added.

Alex took a moment to think. Disobeying wasn’t going to do anything for or against him at this point - he kept anything truly important to him out of his parents’ reach and since he’d gotten the punching bag he could actually contend with their tempers. They couldn’t punish him in a way that mattered.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” he said finally, following them into the house.

They found Reggie and Carlos already raiding the kitchen.

“Alex, you’re staying too?” Reggie said when he saw them enter.

“Yes!” Carlos cried, pumping his fist. “You get to make popcorn. Tonight, the Empire Strikes Back!”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Reggie responded as the rest of the boys began following orders from Carlos. Alex wasn’t crazy about Star Wars, but eh….young Mark Hamill was hot so he didn’t mind too much. He was sure most of them would fall asleep during the movie anyway.

A couple hours later it turned out he was right. Carlos was slumped on the floor leaning back against the chair Luke was sitting in, hand still in the bowl of popcorn. Luke was leaning on his hand, breathing soundly. Alex had watched earlier as Bobby’s head flopped onto Reggie’s shoulder and the flustered look that had overcome Reggie’s face, and it was too good not to smile at. Once the VCR began automatically rewinding the movie, Alex shut off the TV.

He stared at the ceiling as he pulled the handle on the La-Z-Boy he was in and reclined into a somewhat comfortable position. Even now, weeks later after meeting for only a day, the first thing he wished he could do was tell Willie the news about the record label. He probably would have been just as ecstatic as the rest of them, if not more. Victoria would be back soon and hopefully have some news. He guessed it didn’t matter if he’d been right about the missing kid, but maybe just knowing if she got to talk with Willie would be enough.

The memory of soft brown eyes still rose in his mind. He’d been doing his best to keep that moment cemented in his brain because he’d noticed it helped him sleep. It was funny because he’d done the same thing with the guys, but staring into Willie’s eyes had been an entirely different experience. Alex wished he had the proper words to describe it, but the best he could do was marvel. Willie was clearly unaware of the strength he held, and it made Alex want to bring that out with his entire being. If he ever did get the chance, that would be something worth looking forward to.

Victoria didn’t arrive until the afternoon the next day. Since Alex felt that she had gone because of him, he made everyone else clean her house as well as they could. No traces of food on the floor, no messy beds, and the kitchen was cleaner than when they had found it. As she came back into the house, she put a hand over her heart.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “I should take trips like this more often if you boys are this good!”

“Yes, tía, please, please, please let them babysit me again! Pleeeeaaassee!” Carlos begged with his hands pressed together.

“Ay, sobrino, no me quieres?” she shook her head.

“No, I do!” Carlos tried to recover. “But they’re fun!”

As if to make a point, Reggie rubbed a hand on Carlos’ head.

“It’s okay little dude, we’ll be back.”

Victoria pulled her wallet out of her purse.

“Well, you boys took very good care of him and I promised I would pay you, so here you go.” She handed each of them a generous amount of cash. Luke, Reggie and Bobby all whooped as they thanked her and headed to the van. Alex held back with anticipation. Victoria looked at him seriously.

“There was no connection,” she told him before he asked. “His guardian explained everything to me, and there was nothing else to go on. I wanted to know because I thought I could solve an old case, but I had to let it go.”

“Well, did you get to talk to him?” Alex tried not to sound too urgent.

“You mean Willie? No, I never saw him. After talking with his guardian I didn’t need to.”

Bowing his head, Alex made himself swallow his other questions. She had at least tried.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry if it was inconvenient.”

“I chose to go, don’t worry about it,” she assured.

Nodding and saying thanks one more time, Alex hurried out after the rest of his friends.

A few days later, the boys slammed the doors of the van shut as they looked up at the building before them. It was so plain and simple on the outside; they never would’ve guessed there was a studio there. It was likely they had driven past it many times on the way to a gig. Pushing through the door, they all looked at the logo in neon lights on the wall: De Orfeo Records.

Collectively, the boys took in awed breaths at the reality of where they were standing. This was too good to believe. Alex took in the scene, trying to imagine this being a place he came to regularly. Could he ever get used to it, or get over the sheer excitement of just being there? Luke patted him on the back, desperately trying to contain himself. They wandered through the halls a little bit until they came to a room where the door was sitting open.

“Oh, boys!” A man called as they almost walked past it. “In here!”

As they all shuffled in, the man shook their hands and pointed them to a couch where they could sit. Alex nervously stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he took a seat. The man across from them was dressed surprisingly casually, if not with obvious expensive taste. He still had sunglasses on, but their yellow tint was clearly not for actual UV protection.

“Nice to meet all of you,” he was saying. “My name is Alan, I’m one of the producers here at De Orfeo. Which one of you did I talk to on the phone?”

Luke raised his hand.

“That was me,” he said, already gushing with excitement. “How’d you hear about us, anyway?”

Alan didn’t answer, but instead looked up at the doorway as someone else came in.

“Hello boys!” Caleb Covington entered, his charismatic smile spread wide across his face. “So nice to see you again.”

Alex’s heart rate immediately sped up and he clenched his hands inside his pockets. How could it be? He thought his last chance to reach out to Willie was gone and seeing Caleb brought back everything he hadn’t been able to ask Julie’s aunt. All the guys were happy to recognize him.

“I won’t be staying for the negotiations,” Caleb said. “but I wanted to properly introduce myself as the owner of this label. I want to assure you boys the best experience as newcomers in the industry. Let any nerves that still linger walk right out the door.” His eyes landed on Alex for a moment, and it felt purposeful. “Take it away, Alan.”

Listening to the producer’s pitch was difficult to focus on now, and Alex had to fight hard against his brain latching onto the new hopes that had arisen. He was thankful that when paperwork came out, Bobby was mindful enough to have them read through it. It was taking too long, though, and Alex was already wishing he had his drumsticks in hand to help pass the time. Reggie had so many questions, and Luke had trouble understanding numerous words - at least that kept Alex occupied because he could be helpful in that. A good hour had passed going over all the information.

“This looks great!” Luke said finally. “How are we feelin’ boys?”

Each of them nodded and looked around at each other, confirming that they all agreed on every settlement. Luke grabbed a pen and pulled his copy of the contract toward him, pausing momentarily to drink in what was happening. Then he signed his name in giant letters. Alex, Bobby, and Reggie followed suit, and Alex could feel a weird tingle rush through his hand as he made the final flourish with his pen. They were all in now.

As the band began celebrating, Caleb knocked on the doorframe.

“If it’s alright with you boys, I wanted to speak with Alex privately for a moment,” Caleb said, gesturing for Alex to follow him outside the room.

His curiosity was at the point of overflowing, and he went out trying to control his trembling hands. Maybe Caleb had talked to Willie after all. This could be his way to bridge that gap and he wouldn’t have to live off of just memories.

Everyone else was still going nuts over getting the contracts signed back in the room. Standing in the lobby, Caleb was looking at him seriously, maybe even pitifully. It quickly drained the exhilaration in Alex’s chest.

“I can tell you’ve been wanting to ask me some questions,” he began. “But before you do, I thought it was best to inform you of some important details first.”

Alex looked up at him with his hands back in his pockets and gulped. Why was his heartbeat suddenly so loud? He knew Caleb couldn’t actually hear it, but it still embarrassed him. His mouth began to go dry.

Caleb furrowed his brow, as if what he was about to say wasn’t easy to get out. He bowed his head and took a breath before looking at Alex again.

“Willie,” he started. Then he paused. “Is dead.”

The trembling in Alex’s hands stopped.

He stared at Caleb, as if he could pull off the serious expression and find a joking smile underneath. It was a few moments before he remembered to breathe in, and blinking seemed to cut that moment into two as if the first one wasn’t real.

“No, no, that can’t - ” he heard the words spill out of his mouth. Why was his body so tense and ready to defend itself? His cheeks felt hot.

“I know the news is hard,” Caleb interrupted, placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I can hardly bear it myself. There was an electrical fire. He didn’t make it out.”

Alex could only shake his head. Caleb’s expression wasn’t changing and for some reason it was the most infuriating sight. He could punch that face and make him bleed if he really wanted to. The adrenaline was already rushing to his fist.

“There has to be a mistake,” he said, chuckling darkly.

“There is no mistake,” Caleb told him firmly.

How was the man so calm? How could he say those words out loud and not immediately crumble to the earth? How could he have worn such a large smile earlier?

“I know you two weren’t friends for long, but he made it clear you were important to him.”

The words came through as if from a tiny speaker. They’d only gotten one day and it wasn’t enough. Willie couldn’t go like that, he simply couldn’t - not when Alex needed to know if they could’ve ever had something real. He still wanted to know so many things about him and look into those brown eyes and soften the hard edges on them. He needed to -

He was crying. On his hands and knees, trying to get the dark shadow that had grown inside his chest to come out. It made him choke. Caleb had apparently left him alone, unable to console him, and he felt hands on his back and shoulders as he fought to properly breathe. Luke was knelt down before him, mouth hanging open in want of words but not able to form any. Bobby was gripping his hand and supporting him as he and Reggie pulled him up onto his feet.

“We need to get him in the van,” one of them was saying.

Any movement from there was not his own. All three boys were trying their hardest to help the tallest member of their band out of the building. Everything was numb - like a machine that had broken down after being run too hard.

The brown eyes faded into darkness, murky and thick. There was no air in his lungs to scream into that dark, no tie-dye, no rolling of wheels on the sidewalk, no ‘ribbit’, no more wondering and hoping.

Dead quiet. That was all.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #carlos molina #aunt victoria #caleb covington #tw death mention #sunset curve #viva las vegas #de orfeo records #fiddlepickdouglas

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uwua3 · 4 years

Note

i love your spoiled sakuya hcs and the juza hcs with the baker s/o, they were so adorable!! ♡ can i have hcs for masumi with an s/o who likes to bake too and they're trying to teach masumi how to bake by baking together?

ah, thank you so much!!! your support means the world to me, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my work TT you’re even more adorable!!! for someone who knows nothing about baking, i love sweets too much so i cannot wait to do this prompt :D i hope to make you happy with this ♡

summary: for someone who didn’t eat sweets, masumi sure ate a lot of your baking

author’s note: i loved writing this despite my lack of baking experience TT please enjoy a tsundere! masumi and a reader who is doing their best :D thank you for reading~

word count: 4,121

music: if i could ride a bike – park bird, chevy, the girl i have a crush on – frad

all you need is love... and cookies!

🌸💌 usui masumi

ever since you could remember, you’ve always aspired to be a baker

you were the kid who walked by bakeries and had to push your face against the glass at the sight of pastries. you were definitely the type to admire and double tap every post concerning cute creations just because it made you happy. you filled your mouth with so much sugar, your dentist definitely had to see you every year

so when you proudly shared to the boys you were pursuing baking, you purposely left out the fact you had begged the bakery staff to hire you despite having no experience

(you were really only hired due to your clear passion for anything sweet, but an opportunity was a chance to do even better!)

at first, your part–time shifts at the local veludo way bakery meant you always had extras to take home. but now, you had acquired the position of an amatuer apprentince who spent all their time after school perfecting their craft

professional, well–done masterpieces wrapped in pristine, elegant white boxes became sloppy, edible creations with just as much love, much to the confusion and disappointment of the dorms

so when it became apparent that you weren’t naturally blessed with the talent to be the best baker in the world, it ate away at you ever since you stared back at the collapsed cake across from you (it didn’t take long before you were back on register duty for the day)

you could tell none of the mankai boys truly enjoyed your food when they couldn’t even force themselves to finish it (not even juza)

this meant you had practically taken over the limited space the kitchen offered to practice even more, focusing on exact measurements and mixtures just to mess up every single time

you were this close to giving up and binging bake–offs on tv to feel even more insecure of your abilities before you noticed something out of the ordinary this time

crouching down to look at the open fridge, you smiled despite the flour staining your apron and sugar you accidentally wiped across your forehead

the cupcake you made yesterday... that was nearly toppled over with uneven amounts of icing, perhaps your worst invention yet, was gone

did this mean... someone ate it?

you were about to close the door, before you noticed there was a note left instead in the place of the missing dessert

“you did a good job. don’t give up.”

your heart swelled with pride once you realized someone in the dorms genuinely believed in your skill. you squealed and performed a celebration dance in the middle of the kitchen, jumping up and down from the praise

you picked your head up and fixed the baker’s hat that was about to fall off, before turning the paper around and noticing something scrawled on the back

“you can’t substitute butter for cream cheese, you know.”

you blinked before reading it again, feeling a light bulb above your head. attempting the recipe you just failed with a new sense of determination, you realized you did mix up the yellow ingredients

oh... whoops!

(you were so involved and dedicated to your work that you didn’t notice a black–haired boy lean against the door frame for a second with a slight smile before leaving)

from then on, you didn’t give up, just like the note told you to!

every time you made a new product, you expected it to be gone the next time you took a break from the kitchen. you began enjoying the process more than anything, following recipes exactly with few, minimal errors

it helped every time the person who finished eating your dessert left truthful, straightforward reviews on the back of their praise! somehow, they always knew what went wrong and genuinely assisted you in trying again and again

your effort paid off! slowly but surely, you were able to make your favorites presentable, tasty, and worthy of sharing with others! the better you got, the more optimistic your attitude became—you could do this, you got this!

quitting was a thing of the past now, how could you give up when you’ve come this far? you knew you couldn’t have done it without that one fateful note from your first customer

the mankai dorm noticed your renewed energy at your passion and slowly reaped the benefits. you would put aside one of every creation of yours for the mystery critic, but offered the rest to the boys as a way to thank them for their continous support (even if it wasn’t through eating in the beginning)

yet, as you took the trey of muffins from the oven early in the morning to prepare quick breakfast for the actors, you frowned at the thought of one boy: masumi

no matter how many times you tried, masumi wouldn’t eat your food. it didn’t matter if you wrote his name on it with icing or specifically made a treat based on his favorite flavor, he wouldn’t take it. he’d barely glance at you with a resounding “no” in front of everyone before slipping his headphones back on

it was truly an awkward sight to behold. a quiet, seemingly annoyed teenage boy coming home late from a long day of school and an discouraged part–time baker still in their academy uniform and apron, holding a platter of something good, mind you!

as you individually wrapped each muffin and wrote each person’s name on a sticky note before moving on to pack boxed lunches for the high school students (yourself included), you hesitated on masumi’s before deciding to take that one and leave it for your secret food reviewer

if he wasn’t going to enjoy it, at least someone would

as everyone began waking up, you let out a sigh of relief after laying out all the food you prepared the day of organized by name. all in a day of hard work and the endless compliments from the sleepy kids and appreciative adults made it all worth it

for some reason, as masumi walked inside the kitchen with his headphones already on, you unintentionally let out a disappointed sigh as he walked past your beautiful display. not even a look, did he not like you?

(you strangely felt disappointed from the thought of masumi not liking you, you wanted him to see you as a friend)

after having breakfast together, you left with the high school boys, animatedly discussing whatever homework you guys had (which taichi never finished as he begged for answers) and upcoming classes

on the way out, maybe if you weren’t challenged by banri to see who could sprint to the end of the street the fastest, you would’ve noticed how masumi lingered behind to grab a snack. he opened the refridgerator to take a specific one, just for him

the mankai boys liked meeting up with each other at the local park once the final bell rang just to update each other on how the day went on the way home, but you always had bakery duty right after, rushing out of the doors to wave goodbye to your friends

“thank you for the lunch!” they thanked you again gratefully, wishing you well as you two went your separate ways. masumi was always at the back of the crowd and avoided looking your direction, moving on without a single word

as masumi led the way to pick up muku and yuki, sakuya walked by his side with a curious glance towards his blazer jacket. without warning, sakuya reached out to brush something off his collar

“sorry, masumi–kun! you had... crumbs?” sakuya trailed off quietly, noticing how masumi’s face was slowly becoming red. anyone would’ve missed it, but not his own observant best friend

when sakuya connected the dots on why masumi didn’t eat lunch with him and banri, he simply just hummed a sound of acknowledgement before joining in on the lively conversation between the o high boys

masumi turned his music volume up without looking at anyone, not seeing sakuya’s quiet smile

masumi didn’t even like sweets that much, but he ate the muffin? sakuya thought before eventually getting distracted by tenma, who nudged him with a concerned look

it wasn’t him he should be worried about, what about masumi?! sakuya turned before doing a full 360 with wide eyes. he rapidly looked both ways before grabbing tenma’s shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed

“tenma! did you see where masumi went?”

“oh, he said he had class or something?”

“class? for what?”

you finally clocked out for your shift, hanging your apron back up on the wall of hooks as you placed your name tag back with your uniform. before you could leave, you heard someone call for you to come back

oh no... were you... in trouble?! you gulped, turning on your heel to come face to face with your boss, who’s expression remained strict and stoic as ever. this was it, you were going to get fired and goodbye culinary school—

“rookie, you did good,” your boss started and you felt like you were on a sugar rush. did renowned, highly experienced head baker of the whole establishment just compliment you? before you could pass out from the praise in front of everyone, he continued

“but not great.”

oh. you were about to collapse, but for a completely different reason now. of course you weren’t that good...

“but good enough for this.” he passed to you a flyer with a ticket before leaving, not bothering to check your reaction. he was always like that, a man of a few words, it reminded you of mas—

wait, teaching a baking class?

you paused, bringing the paper closer to your eyes as you skimmed the headline and details beneath the cute promotional doodles decorating the design

the community center was holding a local baking class this evening (taught by employees of your own bakery!). it seemed like it was aimed at every person in any possible demographic with the large, easy–to–read font for the elderly and childish drawings for the youth

you wondered why you hadn’t heard of it before, putting the ticket in front of you to see your name and your lucky number on the pass. how coincidental, maybe this was a sign you should go

you looked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat in front of you. your boss suddenly seemed much less intimidating but more... fatherly? he ruffled your hair and attempted a smile (it looked more like a grimance, but you appreciated the effort)

“you love baking, right? have fun, get some training in.” you grinned and forced him into a hug. “thank you!” you responded, squeezing him tightly and ignoring how you were this close to being put on the early bird rotation

“get off me before i fire you.”

“yes, chef!”

when you put back on your baker’s apron and travelled with the rest of the staff to the community center to help set up, you were practically bouncing with uncontrollable energy in the back seat as you watched the evening lights turn on throughout the town

this was a sign! you had improved so much, you got promoted to teaching a community baking class because you’ve made it that far! nothing could ruin this!

or, so you thought

when you perfectly laid out the set of ingredients and utensils ready for each station, you glanced at the list at your side to see who your partner would be

as you read down the columns, you were internally hoping maybe for a sweet, wise grandmother who carried candy in her vintage purse. or, even an enthusiastic, blabbering child whose parents watched on from the side with maternal pride and love. anyone, really!

you hummed to the tune of some family friendly music from the radio, the bright yellow lights illuminating the makeshift kitchen as you somehow ignored the team’s volleyball practice happening upstairs

you followed your finger on the paper, landing on your name with a smile. yet, the look on your face completely disappeared as you double–checked to make sure it was yours

the name besides yours was blank? while others signed their full names, your partner either didn’t exist or had no alias to go by

“chef?” you asked your boss, causing him to look up from the front of the room with a blank expression. right... he was still your scary head pastry chef that definitely had multiple chances to fire you at this point

“um... how come the name for my station is blank?” you nervously questioned from his soulless stare before he rubbed his forehead with a sigh, as if burdened to actually think this time. then, he snapped his fingers together so suddenly you were startled

“there’s a kid who’s been going here for a while now, but he never tells us his name. you got him tonight.”

wow, that was the most the boss ever spoke to you, or in general

“do i make myself clear, rook?”

“yes, chef!”

you didn’t dare question him any further, just obediently wiped down your glistening metal table and avoided his harsh hawk eyes at any time possible

when the clock hit 8pm, you giddily tried your best not to hop up and down as you watched people stream into the kitchen. most were regulars, you noticed as the team happily greeted their typical partners

luckily, the list of attendees had increased so you were now a certified local teacher to the public. you tried to look the part and not smile too wide, hiding your obvious excitement at the new role. you glanced around with an eager look, trying to locate the kid your boss referred to earlier

“are you looking for your partner?” your co–worker randomly asked, walking up to you out of no where. you blinked multiple times, trying to see if they were talking to you before confirming they were, smiling nervously from the rare interaction

“yeah, i’m really excited!” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you kept your eyes on the door. your co–worker nodded, waiting for their guest as well as they leaned against the wall, crossing their arms casually

“you should be. he’s a real natural at all this, you know, despite doing it for such a short time.” they commented, not saying any more once they waved to their partner coming in. you turned towards their retreating figure, about to ask for more information before you felt someone move next to you, their eyes trained on your back intensely

right, nothing could ruin this for you, not even—

your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the whole mixing bowl you had been playing with

—masumi

masumi blinked, before spinning around to quickly try to make his way out of the room. you didn’t think before you acted, impulsively latching onto his black jacket sleeve and wincing at his sneakers skid to a stop on the floor

“listen, i know you don’t like me, but—” you mumbled, feeling less confident by the second the more he stared at you over his shoulder. it was the first time he had his headphones off for more than a minute around you, you didn’t know what to say to someone you barely knew

“you think i don’t like you?” masumi spoke for once, his deep voice shocking you but his words were an even bigger surprise. you were about to respond before the head chef began class, your boss ordering everyone to get ready or be left behind

(a few lighthearted chuckles travelled throughout the room but you shuddered internally, knowing boss wasn’t joking)

masumi seemed to debate between leaving and embarrassing you completely in front of your staff or staying to endure a painful, awkward two hours with you before he sighed, putting on his own apron without looking at you once

you didn’t have anything to say, maintaining the large distance between you two with a frown

maybe one thing, or person, could ruin this for you... how did he end up being your partner?!

as head chef went around to introduce the recipe for tonight, you didn’t know what to do. you had never talked to masumi one on one, he usually hung back with sakuya or trailed after izumi seeking validation. what could you say to someone who supposedly didn’t care for you at all?

when chef let the groups start, you picked up the cookie recipe and thanked whoever was listening it was something you could make in your sleep. you were about to start before masumi peered over your shoulder, trying to read with you

right, you had to work together with masumi or else you’d be the worst teacher ever

you slid the paper to the middle of the table, reading the first step out loud and masumi was already on it, moving to preheat the oven to 375 degrees without hesitation

you stopped, looking at him with slight shock once again. he was strangely good at taking orders without questioning a thing, you thought he would’ve given you at least some attitude

(maybe, he wasn’t as mean as you thought he was)

he returned, flicking the highlighted black hair out of his face with an unreadable look to his eyes. he waved his hand in front of your face, breaking your haze as you blushed from getting caught staring

“what’s next?” masumi bluntly asked, and you were quick to focus again and immediately went into your professional mode, missing the way masumi admired your dedication before pretending he was getting busy

without wasting time, masumi was whisking white flour, salt, and baking soda in a small bowl while you were consistently swirling a cup of butter over a saucepan, both of you working oddly well together without much words needing to be exchanged

huh... maybe he wasn’t all that bad. of course masumi was a good baker, what wasn’t he great at?

yet, you didn’t think he liked it. he didn’t eat too much sugar to begin with, what made him want to learn how to bake in the first place?

“i haven’t seen you teach here before.” masumi said, trying to start the conversation. you did a double take, wondering if he was serious or just plain condescending before you shrugged, keeping your eyes on the butter

“chef wanted me here for the first time tonight.” you awkwardly responded, feeling the tense silence in the air even as other stations around you loudly chatted with one another. masumi nodded, seemingly paying attention even as he whisked with precision you wished you had

“must mean you’ve become a good baker.” masumi replied and you couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the note you were going to come home to in the fridge

“hopefully.” you simply said, trying not to sound bitter as you didn’t let the rest of your sentence leave your mouth. you wanted to ask how masumi would know that if he hadn’t even tried any of your pastries, but you didn’t want to start anything

when the butter browned, you moved it to a heatproof bowl and continued the process, cutting up small blocks of butter again to add it to the brown butter

masumi looked over your shoulder again with a hum of approval (you deny ever feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest) before going back to his task, mumbling something that made you freeze in your steps

“looks like you didn’t mix up the butter and cream cheese this time.”

your breath hitched as you gripped the bowl, eyes wide as your thoughts ran a mile a minute. masumi picked up on your stillness, turning to ask if you were okay before you whipped around to look him in the eyes

“what?” you breathed out as masumi looked any where but you. before you could continue to interrogate him, you felt a looming presence behind you with a familiar bark

“rook! get back to work or go home!”

you and masumi quickly got back to your positions, already scared by your chef’s loud booming voice as you two did your jobs with fear as your motivation

“yes, chef!” you called out, masumi following your example as you two followed the recipe perfectly, even as you snuck in a glance at him every time you thought he wouldn’t notice

when you pushed the parchment–lined baking sheet into the oven and closed it gently, you took a moment to breathe in and out, trying to process the exposed truth that was between you two now

you couldn’t believe it: masumi was your first “customer” ever. he was the one who encouraged you to keep baking with genuine praise and heartfelt comments about what you did right. he helped you improve with useful criticism on things you did wrong and furthered your growth as a baker. without having him, you wouldn’t even be here

but you couldn’t help but think, why?

why did he want to help you? you thought he didn’t actually like you... did he want to be, your friend?

(maybe, even more?)

you jumped up and nearly hit your head on the oven bar, making masumi hurry to your side with a slightly startled expression. you were about to apologize before he laid his hand against your head, unintentionally coming closer, concerned about why your face was so red

you barely managed to get out the excuse about the heat from the oven, but you knew he doubted it as he slowly nodded and stepped back. you followed him back to your table to clean up, but you couldn’t keep it together with the rapid beat of your heart and permanent blush on your cheeks

did... did you like masumi?

was that why you were so disheartened every time you offered sweets and he didn’t take any? is that why you always made an effort to be friends with the mysterious student before eventually giving up when he didn’t respond? oh my god, did you always like him this way?

you turned to look at him again but this time, he was already staring at you. you were about to run and hide forever from the embarrassment before your co–worker from before showed up, recognizing masumi and greeting him like they were best friends

“i see you’ve met the kid. he looks mean but once you get to know him—” they reached up to knock their fist against masumi’s head fondly, ignoring the way masumi grumbled dramatically about his hair, “he’s a real sweetheart.”

you forced an awkward laugh before going back to cleaning, noticing how your co–worker kept going on, missing the way you were acutely eavesdropping on the conversation

“you impress that person, yet?” they joked, to which masumi silently glared at them to shut up. they didn’t whatsoever

“come on, you’ve had to at this point! what kind of guy takes baking classes just to help their crush?”

beep! the oven sounded, causing you to rush over to escape the discussion. it was all coming together and it didn’t take long before you connected the dots on what’s been happening the past few months

when you came back with your glove mitts on, you placed the trey down and let the cookies cool down, standing side by side to admire you and masumi’s creation

as masumi opened his mouth to compliment the work, like he always did, you beat him to it

“... you like me.” you dropped out of no where. cue the silence, again. it was like this whole bonding exercise didn’t even happen, you could feel masumi about to tug on his headphones. yet, you kept talking and saying all the things you’ve always wanted to tell him

“you ate my food every day, even if you don’t like desserts that much, because you like me.”

quiet, again. he wasn’t saying no, he couldn’t say you were wrong because you were right

“you took baking classes to help me, because you like me.”

you wanted to be more than friends with masumi, you knew that now, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he still felt the same way

you got your answer when masumi picked up a cookie and split it into two evenly, offering the other half to you with a flustered appearance, like this was his confession

you took the cookie and knew, this was the start of something sweet

(“hey, finish cleaning already, rookie! i don’t pay you to be in love with your boyfriend!”)

(“yes, chef!”)

you received the first note with masumi’s name written at the end

“we should bake together again.”

#usui masumi #masumi usui #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #masumi x reader #a3! masumi #a3 masumi

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

Text

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 4/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family

for @melodiousmelodrama

The way to The Lair is wet and cold. You should have worn rain boots. You should have listened when Leo said they lived in the sewers. You thank god he meant the water runoff and not raw waste, though you can’t imagine the guys living in filth. They were well-mannered and hygienic, as far as their stay at the apartment let you see.

You hear the others before you see them. Loud, heavy sounds of concrete shifting and crumbling. Debris and broken furniture arc through the air as they're tossed from one pile to another. The routine kicks up dust, but does little to repair the home.

“Raph,” Donatello whispers and Mikey jogs toward the mess.

A slab of concrete flies Mikey’s way. “Watch it, bro. I’m too pretty to get busted. Don’t wanna mug like yours to scare off the honeys.”

Raph ignores his little brother’s jokes and tosses another slab with a grunt.

“Here, here, lemme help.” Mikey picks up a few stones and skips one across the floor into the concrete pile. “Little bit o’ brick over there… what’s this-” he lifts a shard of wood for inspection before lobbing it toward a different pile “-a little bit o’ table over there.” He gives his brother a wide, goofy smile, “How am I doin’ so far?”

Raph continues to ignore him.

“Come on, Raphie, this is pointless.”

“It ain’t pointless." Raphael can't look at any of them. He stares only at the rubble spilling into the tunnel. "This is our home. We gotta have a home.”

You take a step forward, careful to stay out of the path of flying debris. “You can stay with us. Until this place is safe. Or until you find somewhere new.”

“Ain’t nowhere new gonna take us." Raphael says, despite your claim. You understand he means long-term. And you know it's true. Even your parents can't house them forever. You can't expect them to sleep on the living room floor and be comfortable.

"...'sides," he grumbles, "Leo ain't leavin', I ain't leavin'."

Mikey picks up a bigger piece of mortared brick and heaves it into Raph's designated pile.

Donatello gives a deep sigh as he watches them give in to the fruitless work. "Let's find Leo," he says to you, not letting himself be defeated yet.

You find Leo in the dojo, kneeling in meditation before a felled tree. The flowering branches and wide trunk must have made a beautiful focal point for the room, before the trunk had been cleaved in two.

Though it goes against your instincts to bother Leo in this place, Donatello urges you onto the large straw mat.

A slow, quiet approach seems most appropriate, and you kneel beside him, mimicking his form. You're sure he's sensed your presence, but he doesn't say a word.

Leo's eyes are closed, his breathing even. It takes you a minute to notice the moisture gathering along the seam of his eyelids.

You wave Donatello off with the gentlest of smiles and wait until he is gone, until you and Leo are alone, before you reach out. You lay your hand atop Leo's as it rests on his knee and you keep it there when he doesn't protest or pull away.

His chest jumps as his breath hitches, but his tears don't fall. His eyes don't open. The only conscious movement he makes is to lift his thumb to hold your hand closer to his.

Pulling Raphael and Mikey away from the rubble isn’t so hard once they see Leo is walking with you. He still doesn’t speak, and no one has mentioned the absence of their father.

“You should grab what you need," you say to the group. "There’s only a few hours until the sun comes up.”

Raphael kicks at a stone and shrugs his shoulders forward. “Gonna leave somethin’ for Splinter, right, Donnie?”

“There’s a message for him," Donnie says, the computer keys clacking under his fingers. "He’ll have to use the emergency cypher, but he’ll know where we are. He’ll know we’re safe and accounted for.”

Mikey shifts his weight and looks up, his wide eyes hopeful. “Can I bring some stuff from my room?”

You nod. “Whatever you want.” You'd never keep him from bringing along a piece of home.

Beside you, Leo tenses, but remains silent.

Raphael and Mikey rush to their room, climbing over rubble and broken furniture to get there. Donatello gives you a short bow and a word of thanks. “We might be a while,” he warns.

You can’t help but yawn as you wave him off. “Go, go. Take as much time as you need.”

“They know the way,” Leo says, his first words of the night. “I can bring you home if you wish.”

You look at him, ready to protest, but see the stoic expression he wears is only a thin mask to hide his pain. “Thank you.”

Leo helps you over dangerous areas of the tunnels, more cautious with you than his brothers were. It’s equal parts irritating and sweet. You handled yourself just fine on the way in, but you let him take care of you like this. It seems like he needs to feel in control of something and this is a little thing you can give.

“You should have worn more practical footwear,” he says when he sees your water-logged sneakers.

“Next time." Gripping his hand, you let him haul you over a pile of rubble.

He catches you at the waist, holding you close for a second longer than necessary before easing you down the other side. “Won’t be a next time.” His words sound final. “I’ve been wanting to move the Lair for a while now. There’s a subway station…”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s been abandoned for quite some time. I’ve had my eye on it. Didn’t want to move the guys because… well, because the sewers have been our home for as long as we can remember. But I should have acted sooner. I should have told them what I found. I could have avoided this whole-”

“Can I see?” you interrupt his self-depricating rant, knowing that to let him continue on that path wouldn’t do anyone any good. “The subway spot. If you think it’s safe. Can I see?”

Leo turns to face you, to really look at you for the first time since dinner, and offers a slow nod. “Ok.”

The station is a mess. Full of cobwebs and old crates. There’s an abandoned train still on the track. Most of the train's doors have been rusted open. The seat cushions are dry rotted and falling apart. But there’s promise. There are options. And when you turn to Leo, you can see hope.

“I think you should tell them about this place.”

Leo doesn’t argue. He wasn’t going to keep it a secret any longer. Especially not now, when they need this place more than ever.

“I can fix it up with you before you do, if you want. If you think it’ll help.”

Leo doesn’t say anything at that, but stacking old crates against a wall, so you follow his lead.

You leave the heaviest lifting for him, taking it upon yourself to clean out the cobwebs and clear off the platform.

The place will need furniture. And the guys could stand to tear out the train seats to fit each car with a bed and other things to make their rooms more liveable. But you can tell it’s going to be good. They could make it something great.

You look over the station with a feeling of accomplishment. Leo, however, isn’t yet satisfied.

He looks at his phone and swears under his breath. “It’s almost 5. I have to get you home.”

The news comes as a surprise. You didn’t realize you’d been working all night. Each crate stacked and cobweb swept clean had energized you. You’d felt a renewed sense of productivity, a sense of purpose. You were moving toward a tangible goal for the first time in a long time. This wasn’t the same old routine you’ve been walking through at your day job. This was building a new home for new friends.

You follow Leo through the path and up to a set of stairs to street level. There’s a small restaurant beside an alley.

“Won’t they see us? Hear us?” You glance around quickly to see if you've been spotted, but Leo leads you down the alley with an air of calm.

“Old man’s losing his hearing," he says. He makes giving you a boost to the restaurant's low roof look effortless. "His husband’s been bugging him to get hearing aids but he keeps pretending like he didn’t hear him make the suggestion.”

“Funny.”

Leo’s hard frown softens a moment, giving way to the briefest fond smile. “It’s cute.”

“You want that someday?”

“What, hearing aids?” Leo walks past you without giving you a chance to correct him.

You let him lead as your heart twists and sinks. Why had you asked? Even if he wanted love and companionship, they probably weren’t things a guy like him could have. Sure, he can charm the rings off Gram’s fingers. And anyone would admire the passion he has for taking care of his family. But he’s still a mutant turtle. One with rippling muscles and big, blue eyes, a husky voice, and a gentle touch. But, a turtle. Not many people would look past that. It’s likely Leo won’t let many people look past that, if he’d let people see him at all.

#tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #leo x reader #gender neutral reader #my writing #guarded hearts and safe houses fic

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toomuchponytail · 4 years

Note

Could I maybe request an injured villain and a very reluctant hero caretaker who really wants nothing to do with the villain, but is convinced to help by another hero, and eventually warms up to the villain? Thank you!

I’m sorry that this took so long to get to Anon! But here you go! It was already really long, so the ‘hero getting used to Villain and warming up to them’ will have to be a separate part! This went it’s own way, so before you get mad at me know that I was only partially responsible. :) Thank you so much for requesting! I won’t be able to put it into words how incredible getting asks is! I know I’ve been doing this for almost a year but still...you are so great for trusting me with these amazing ideas!

Thank you for all that I’m worth(It’s not a lot, but it’s something!)

I hope that your day is a can of sweet fruit juice, after a long walk on a dusty road,something aromatic and refreshing that cuts through frustration and makes you feel revitalized. I wish you a day of needed refreshment after struggle, a meeting of goals and a celebration of the effort when the goals stay in the distance for another day. I wish you the ability to celebrate surviving, the ability to be renewed, and the ability to appreciate how hard you work whether you get where you want to go today or tomorrow.

Take that can in your hands and marvel at the way the condensation wets your palm, at the delicious chill that travels up your arm, you’ve made it here Anon, and that is worth celebrating.

I’m so proud of you! :D

Look out for part two! (if you’re still interested after all of this time that is...)

Hero dumped cream in their coffee, stumbling around in the kitchen, eyes bleary. They made their way to the kitchen table, sitting down heavily and wincing at the soreness in their back and shoulders. It had been a long night last night, they’d caught a gang of car thieves, but none of them had gone down without a fight and hero had been alone last night, sidekick off with their girlfriend in Maine to meet the parents…

Hero sighed, and took a long drink from their coffee, comforted by the warmth and familiar mix of bitterness and sweet cream.

Before he could register that there was someone on his porch, a skill he’d needed many times over the last three years, there was a frantic pouding on the door.

Hero jumped, startled by the sound, fear curled up catlike in the base of his stomach adrenaline a more powerful stimulant than coffee he stood and crept to the door wide awake, snatching his powerful sonic longblade from the table as he went.

He was careful to not make any sound as he went across the old wooden floor, his bare feet making the task a little easier.

Not many people knew where he lived, this wasn’t his base it was his house, and he took security very seriously, not serious enough to have a doorbell camera like other hero had bragged about, but serious enough.

Hero peered through the peephole in the door, holding his breath, breath he let out in a frustrated grumble when he saw Vigilante peering back at him hopefully.

Hero opened the door, already feeling tired again, Vigilante meant well, but they were young and impulsive, plus he wasn’t always the most trustworthy, and he wondered abstractly what they’d gotten themselves caught up in this time.

Then he caught sight of what Vigilante was holding and almost slammed the door in their face question answered. Vigilante was supporting a barely conscious Villain, they were pale and mumbling nonsense soaked to the skin, they weren’t wearing their mask and hero could see that they’d been beaten, their face was swollen and covered in bruises.

“Vigilante what the…!?” Hero ducked behind the door trying to obscure their face, they started to close the door on instinct, Villain was bad news, why Vigilante had taken him here and not to the police was a mystery to him.

Vigilante grinned at hero relief evident on their face, extending their elbow as if to keep hero from closing the door all of the way, “Hero I can explain!” They said brightly, likely they had rehearsed this on the way over here, “But, um, you’re probably not going to like it.”

Hero glared around the door, “Why Vigilante? Just take him to the police!”

Vigilante shifted uncomfortably and looked down, “We’ve actually just come from there I’m afraid,” then, as if suddenly remembering some vital piece of information they looked up again, “Oh, and don’t worry about them seeing your face, they’re way too out of it to actually know it’s you, they were calling me sidekick when I pulled them out of the canal.”

It had taken hero this long to realize that Vigilante was also soaked, they looked half-drowned actually, their clothes were slick to them, they slicked their dripping hair back with the hand not holding Villain, “You going to invite us in or…”

Hero stood in the doorway silently for a moment, knowing full well that they were going to invite Vigilante inside, but wanting to teach vigilante a lesson.

They shouldn’t have bothered, when they sighed finally and stepped aside, Vigilante tramped into their house without the slightest qualm, dripping on the floor and half-dragging half-carrying Villain in with them.

Hero crossed their arms over their chest after they’d shut the door and bolted it, never mind one of the most dangerous people in the city was already inside of their house, they looked at Vigilante sternly, “So? The explanation is..?”

When Vigilante looked up at them again they realized how exhausted they were, dark circles under their eyes, arms shaking with exertion, hero dropped their false sternness, “What do you need from me Vigilante?”

Vigilante seemed to melt with relief, “The police did this to them,” They motioned to the Villain who’s mutterings had given way to weak shuttering, “I need you to keep them here and help them get better while I build a case against the Villain stopping squad.”

Hero frowned, he’d heard rumors about the violent and often inhumane tactics that the VSS used against people they’d deemed enemies of freedom, it was somewhat well known that if you were a questionable person in regards to morality in the city you stayed away from the police.

But while they would not be against Vigilante putting a stop to the VSS, there was no way in Hell or heaven or anywhere in between that they were going to help Villain, and certainly not at their own house!

“Absolutely not Vigilante, I’ll do a lot of things to help, I’ll go undercover, I’ll try and join the VSS to get dirt on them, but Villain is my enemy, and I’m not having them here even if they are too out of their mind to know it’s me.”

Vigilante’s face fell, “But you’re a hero?” They stated uselessly, “You’re the one who stands in front of the people who need protection.”

Hero shook their head, looking away.

“I don’t understand,” Vigilante continued, “I’ve seen you help mob bosses and gang members, even that band of thieves last year that almost killed you, why not help Villain?”

Hero stewed for a moment, fumbling for the right words to say, “Because it’s him! All of those others were only out for their own good, they didn’t want to hurt people, they just wanted to not be hurt anymore themselves! But Villain? Villain actively hates good, he schemes against it, he’ll go out of his way to cause trouble even when there is no benefit for him! He’s evil with a capital ‘E’!” Hero’s face was reddened and he was breathing hard, he raked a hand over his face, somewhat surprised at his own outburst.

Vigilante looked angry, “You done?” They asked without giving hero a chance to answer, “Because I’m hearing that you, the person who is the beam of hope for this corrupted city, the person who has talked me out of using violence at every turn is refusing to help someone who really needs their help. And why? Because they’re a ‘bad guy’ well, hero, guess what? I’m a bad guy too where VSS is concerned!” Vigilante’s voice had risen to a shout, their face was flushed, their eyes shining, “Villain was captured trying to rescue me from them! They weren’t going to do to me what they did to him but he didn’t know that! So our, irredeemable prince of drama and careful apathy broke in, by himself, and got himself captured! For ME! But he’s just evil, capital E and all that, nothing good about him or whatever.”

Vigilante started towards the door, turning away from hero so that he couldn't see the tears in their eyes, “I’d heard the stories too hero, but I didn’t care too much until they came for me, because these people are the bad guys right? They break the law they pay the price, guess what hero?” they sniffled, voice breaking, “That’s exactly the logic that the VSS uses.”

Hero swallowed, feeling rightly guilty, they reached out and put a hand on Vigilante’s shoulder, Vigilante shrugged them off, “Listen, Vigilante I’m sorry okay, I didn’t know…” Hero knew that they were going to regret this decision, but their mind was made up, “And if it means that much to you, I’ll help Villain alright? But just this time, and just because it's you asking.”

Vigilante turned around, “Really?” They asked carefully, “you’re not going to turn around after I’m gone and call the VSS?”

Hero shook their head in disgust, knowing that after what they’d said it was a viable question, one that made them sick, “I’ve never called them, I won’t start now.”

Vigilante sighed, a bit of mischief returned to their eyes, “Does that mean I’m right and you’re wrong this time?” They asked, biting the inside of their cheek to keep from grinning.

Hero groaned helplessly in frustration, “Yes, this time.”

Vigilante Smiled brightly, just then Villain murmured, hero’s face sobered, “Here,” they said, “Help me get them to the couch.”

Hero helped Vigilante support Villain's dead weight to the couch, once he’d been deposited Vigilante sat down on the floor next to the couch, looking spent.

Hero’s heart twinged in sympathy, “Why don’t you go up stairs and take a shower? It’ll warm you up, and I’m sure I have some clothes that’ll fit you, sidekick and you look about the same size.”

Vigilante smiled gratefully, “You sure?” They asked, already going up the stairs.

Hero glanced a little nervously at Villain “I’m sure, you’ll need your strength to be able to stop the VSS, plus hopefully you’ll do it fast?”

Vigilante chuckled and didn’t answer them, leaving hero and Villain alone in the living room.

Hero hesitated a second before carefully removing Villain’s wet clothes. Once they’d gotten them off they looked at the damage, hero realized that Vigilante was right to be afraid.

In the better light Villain looked dead, not that he’d looked particularly alive by the early morning sunshine, his chest was covered in bruises, several stab wounds were still weeping blood, not to mention the older scars, healed to raised memories of pain and survival.

One of the wounds in Villain’s side was particularly deep, the edges of the wound an angry infected red. Now that they were looking at them they could see Villain’s face was flushed with fever, the shivering and weak muttering made more sense now.

Hero sighed and went to get their medical kit, remarkably well stocked, they cleaned Villain’s wounds carefully before bandaging them and wrapping Villain in an oversized blanket.

When they were finished Villain had stopped shaking, they’d moved from delirium to a peaceful sleep,

Hero was forced to admit to themselves that while Villain was asleep they weren’t too bad to look after, the worse part would come later when they would wake up in hero’s house, weak and confused.

But, hero reasoned as they heard Vigilante coming back down the stairs, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

#HERO X VILLAIN #Whump #reluctant caretaker #Villain whump #Vigilante #Hero #Argument #Blood #Infected #Fever #Prompt #Writing prompt #Whump Prompt #part 2 coming soon

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

|| a fic for the bangtan smut central network’s in the mood project ||

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 3k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, idol au

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 your boyfriend is about to give an important speech at the United Nations but isn’t handling pre-speech nerves too well. luckily, you know some ways to help him relax.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 blowjob, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (they’re in a locked room in a public place), orgasm denial, praise, teasing, creampie

many thanks to miss nell @jamaisjoons for making the banner. happy birthday my yin < 3 all the love just for you xxxx

----

“You need to relax, Namjoon,” you instruct softly, but of course he doesn’t hear you.

“...the decision to join BTS, there were many huddles. Hurdles. There were many hurdles. Some may not- shit,” he curses, switching back into his native Korean, “is this what a heart attack feels like? I shouldn’t be here, they’re all-”

“Namjoon,” you interrupt insistently, bringing his anxious pacing to a halt. “Sit down.” You wait for him to reluctantly pull a chair beside you, still fidgeting with his cuffs and shuffling his feet on the carpet. “It’s going to be okay, alright? You’ve delivered this speech to me, to the others, countless times. You know it. You just need to take some deep breaths and calm down for me.”

“How am I meant to calm down?” he asks, hand hovering at his temple as he resists the urge to run his fingers through his perfectly styled hair.

Although the question is rhetoric, you can’t help but flick him a coy smile, sliding your hand over to rest on his thigh, massaging the taut muscle softly. “I can think of a few ways…”

He shakes his head, eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “I need to be rehearsing, baby.”

“Then rehearse.”

His eyebrows lift in confusion as you push your chair out, standing up to double-check the door to the spare meeting room is locked. “What do you mean? What are you doing?”

“Rehearse,” you repeat calmly, “I’ll take care of the rest.” You smirk as you spin his chair around to face outwards and drop to your knees in front of him, running your palms up and down his inner thighs to spread them. You can see the waver of indecision in his eyes, the temptation that he wants to give in to. “Just think, baby,” you persuade in a velvet coo, “if you can give your speech while your cock is down my throat, you can give it anywhere.”

“Fuck,” he curses gutturally when your fingers run lightly over his already-tented crotch, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “Fuck, okay. Door’s locked?”

“Just us,” you reply smoothly, tugging at his belt. “Now, I don’t hear any rehearsing,” you tease, flicking your gaze up to meet his.

His eyebrow lifts at your tone, but the tension eases when he feels your hand, slightly chilled from the air-conditioned room, bypass his pants and underwear and bring him out of his pants, heavy in your palm. “Ah, feels so good, baby. Okay, where does it start? I was… no, I’d like to begin by talking about myself. I was born in Ilsan…”

You grin internally as his deep russet voice fills the room, more gravelly than usual with arousal. All you’ve done is grip him, licking a single wet stripe up the underside of his cock for some lubricant, and already you can see the way his knuckles turn white as he latches on tightly to the arms of the desk chair. The lines of the speech are almost so familiar that you tune them out, focusing on your mission to relax him.

Before dating Namjoon, you never got any enjoyment from going down on guys. You saw it as an act of service that would be rewarded by oral for you, like a transaction, but never was it anything you actually wanted to do. Your current boyfriend, however, is different. There’s something addicting about watching and feeling him come apart under your ministrations, and while he always takes control in the bedroom, you’ve come to love the specific power you have when your lips are wrapped around him.

You do that now, taking his swollen head in your mouth, tongue always active as it seeks out those familiar ridges that draw the most beautiful sounds from him. You tune back in as you do so, eager to see if he can manage to keep focussed.

“...shut out my own vo- voice, and started to listen… listen to the voices of others. No one called out my name…” Namjoon’s thighs are clenched so tightly they’re rock solid, and his words sound distant because of his head being tipped towards the ceiling, veins in his neck visible with the force at which he clenches his jaw. But still, he keeps delivering his speech, line after line. You’re somehow both proud and disappointed.

With renewed vigor, you sit up higher on your knees so that you’re at a better angle to take him deep inside you, forcing your throat to stay relaxed as his cockhead poked at the back of your palate, almost triggering your gag reflex. You pull back up off him with a wet pop and then slide back down again, this time keeping your eyes firmly on him.

One of your hands comes up to fondle at his balls, massaging the skin just behind, and his head shoots down, a palm heavy on the back of your head as he pushes you down again, grinding his hips unconsciously.

“Fuck, baby,” he praises with a lust-filled, lazy grin, and you feel your heart swell. But of course, his job was to keep rehearsing, and you remind him with a warning hum and a wiggle of your eyebrows, and his jaw shifts, cheek popping. “I know, I know,” he makes out through gritted teeth. “Fuck, where was I? ARMY. Because of the love and support that our ARMY fans all over the world make for- god, fuck right there!”

You would grin triumphantly if your jaw wasn’t spread so wide around his thick girth, but swallowing around his cock had the desired effect, as his fingers dig in slightly on your scalp and his hips stutter. You feel him begin to harden even more, and you know he must be close. You slow down, pulling up off him and giving your jaw a chance to relax, instead pressing soft kisses to his tip, flicking your tongue teasingly over his slit.

“Dammit, I was so close, why did you stop? You’re meant to be relaxing me,” he complains, head tipping to the side as if he’s too tired to hold it upright. You can see the beads of sweat at his temples and the glistening sheen at the hollow of his neck, and you know the makeup artists would be cursing you to the ground right now if they could. But you don’t care much about that.

You smirk, reaching your other hand up to rub your palm flat over his tip as the other holds him steady. You know right on the tip is one of the most sensitive places for him, and he jolts violently, curling forward with a surprised moan, choked in his throat. You quirk an eyebrow, pleased at the way he’s falling apart so beautifully for you. “And you’re meant to be rehearsing.”

You can read the confliction in his face clear as day. The urge to chase his orgasm coupled with the knowledge that he should, in fact, be practicing his speech right now. “You better not stop,” he warns darkly, before shifting in his seat, eyes dancing blindly around the room as he fights to recall his next lines.

“I have come to love myself for who I am, for who I was, and for who I hope to become.” He valiantly fights through his speech, at some points his voice barely more than a choked-out gasp, but he manages. You return to sucking him off enthusiastically, but the whole time, you’re grinning internally, barely holding back a laugh of dark glee.

He reaches the edge quickly, so wired up and ready for release, and with how well you know his body, know his every reaction, you let his voice wash over you and continue until he’s gripping your hair tight enough to pull out some strands, and his back is arching with the suppressed urge to move his hips.

“We have learned to love ourselves, fuck, I’m so close, we- you- fuck, that’s it. So now I urge you to spe-eak yourself. I’d like to- fuck!” He lets out a desperate wail, hand pushing on your head to try and bring your mouth back on him again, but you knock it off, sitting back on your heels and delicately wiping the spit from the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, why the fuck did you stop, I said not to stop,” he babbles mindlessly, hand giving up on trying to pull you closer and instead reaching down to grip himself, jerking furiously, but the edge is already gone, and he pants, fingers slipping lower to palm his balls in frustration. “Why the fuck did you do that?” he huffs out, equal parts angry and exhausted.

You adjust your clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles in your shirt and standing up to brush off any dust from your pants. His dark gaze follows you, and you shrug with a cheeky grin. “You messed up.”

“What?”

“You missed a part. A pretty big chunk, actually. ‘Today, I am who I am with all my faults and my mistakes.’ That whole part before the final paragraph.”

He fights to catch his breath, all pleasure and humor removed from his face. “That was way back in the speech,” he notes, “so why did you wait so long to stop, hm?”

You pout, shrugging. “I only just realised.” Your eyes lift to the clock on the wall, tuning back in to it’s regular ticking. “Fifteen minutes ‘til showtime, Joon, the boys are probably wondering where you are. Might want to deal with that before you go.” You gesture at his angry red cock, dripping with saliva, with a tip of your chin.

His eyes cloud over and his jaw tightens, the usual power figure you had grown used to in the bedroom. His arm reaches out and his fingers close around your wrist, tugging you closer, making you stumble into the table beside his chair. “It’s you I’ll be dealing with,” he promises darkly, standing up and pressing a hand between your shoulder blades, folding you over the edge of the table. You automatically prop yourself up with your hands, but he keeps pushing, forcing you to flatten fully against the cold glass surface, arms lying uselessly at your sides.

Your eyes fall shut and you let out a sigh as he flips up your skirt, exposing your soaked underwear to the cool air. Rather than taking them off, he slips his fingers under the fabric at the back and bunches it in the centre, tugging roughly so that it drags against your clit and lifts your hips up, cheeks fully exposed.

He wastes no time in bringing his free hand down harshly on your skin, the smack resounding in the near-empty meeting room. You whimper, shifting on your toes beneath him. “Now,” he growls, “I don’t have time to be disciplining you now like you deserve, so you won’t get as many spanks now. But you know what that means, right?”

You sniff. “They’ll be harder?”

“Correct. I want you to count them for me, and apologise for being such a little tease after each one.” He smacks you on the other cheek with such force that you can hear the air whistle before you feel the blow, and you jerk against the table, fingers curling against the smooth glass, wishing you had something to grab onto.

“Two, I’m sorry for being such a little tease, Namjoonie.”

He alternates cheeks, each hit leaving your skin feeling on fire, but every time your body naturally jolts in response, the ruined fabric of your panties rubs against your clit, and you feel yourself growing even wetter, dripping past the underwear, soaking the tops of your thighs. He only spanks you ten times, far less than what he would normally give when you’d misbehaved, but you really feel every one, and by the time he’s massaging the sting from your flesh, you’re shivering beneath him, legs barely strong enough to hold your hips up.

“Good girl,” he praises softly, “we can finish your punishment later tonight, can’t we?” You whine, curling your toes at the thought, and he laughs softly. “But I don’t have time, so I’m going to use that pretty little hole of yours now. Are you ready for me?”

You fight a soft smile. No matter how much lust clouded his vision, Namjoon always worried about you, always took care of you. You nod silently, turning your head so that your warm cheek cools on the glass, your arms lifting to hide either side of your face. He had just smacked your ass enough that you wouldn’t be able to sit for the rest of the day and here you were getting all soft over him.

“Baby’s gone all shy on me, hm?” You gasp onto the tabletop as he nudges your legs further apart with his foot, slipping your panties down so that they catch at your lower thighs, leaving you exposed to him. “What happened to the little minx that wouldn’t let me cum because I fucked up my speech?” You murmur something, muffled by your upper arms. “What was that?”

“Just fuck me, Namjoonie,” you beg with a pout, “‘need you.”

Though you can’t see it, you can sense the triumphant grin on his face. “I know you do, baby. This pretty little pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, though you give it with a content moan, and simply lines himself up, pushing into you slowly but unyielding, not stopping until he rests his hips flush against you. He curses lowly, muttering mindless praise as he pulls out just as slowly, before plunging back in.

Your mouth falls open with the satisfaction of being filled, and you can’t find it in yourself to care about the drool that marks the table. He picks up speed after you wiggle impatiently, and every snap of his hips sends your body jerking forward, caught by the edge of the glass table digging into your upper thighs.

You must be making too much noise, because your boyfriend reaches forward, leaning over your back, to wrap a strong hand around your jaw, thumb pressing between your lips. You open your mouth and obediently suck on him, moaning still as the new angle makes him hit places in you that have you feeling electricity in your fingers and toes, mindless with pleasure.

You both freeze when there’s a knock at the door. “Five minutes, hyung,” you hear a muffled voice call, “are you ready to come out now?”

“Just a minute,” Namjoon replies in a surprisingly steady voice, “I just need to go to the bathroom and I’ll be out. Nervous pee,” he explains.

“Alrighty,” one of his members replies back, the smooth tone of the voice making you think it must be Taehyung, “we’re just gonna be waiting outside the door to the main room. Don’t leave it too late, the other speech is already wrapping up. Seokjin-hyung is starting to freak.”

“Just a minute,” Namjoon repeats insistently, sighing in relief when he hears the receding footsteps.

You crane your neck back, dropping his thumb from your mouth. “I don’t care how nervous you are, you better not fucking pee in me.”

He lets out a tired laugh. “Sorry, I figured it would be better to lie than to say I was balls deep in my girlfriend. Now; where were we?” Without waiting for an answer, he sits up and grips your hips, thrusting into you with a renewed vigor that has you biting down hard on your lip to prevent the moans from spilling out.

You’ve never experienced him fucking you with such frenzied passion, and you can’t deny the speed at which it brings you to your edge. With every snap of his hips, his cock strikes a deepness inside you that’s almost too much pleasure to take, and shakily you reach back an arm; whether it’s to slow him or to simply anchor yourself, you don’t even know.

You feel his fingers slip between yours, holding your hand tightly as his other rests on your hip as leverage to drive harder and harder. “Good fucking girl,” he pants out, “you gonna let me cum in you?”

You nod, head lolling weakly on the table. “I wanna cum too, Namjoonie,” you whine, slipping your free hand lower, pressing it between your body and the table so you can rub at your clit, sending warmth through your body with the added stimulation.

“Cum for me now, baby,” he directs, and curses thickly as he spills inside you, continuing to thrust even as you feel his seed gathering around your entrance, dripping out onto the table edge and very possibly the carpet.

You speed your fingers up, not wanting him to come down from his high before you get there yourself, and it’s the sound of an impatient knock at the door that sends you over the edge, Namjoon halting to call out, though you can’t even hear it as your eyes roll back into your head and your body shudders, wracked with silent waves of pleasure. You pout in disappointment as he pulls out, no doubt needing to hurry to get back out to the rest of his band members, and pulls your panties back up, patting it over the soaked and ruined crotch before pressing your legs together.

He leans down over you as you tremble with aftershocks, his breath hot on your ear. “Keep it in for me, baby,” he requests. “I’ll celebrate a speech well done later by fucking it back out of you.”

You groan, waiting for the energy to return to your limbs so that you can stand back up and tidy yourself up. Namjoon mumbles an apology that he has to leave, checks his appearance in the mirror one last time, and heads out. You smile sleepily onto the heated glass of the table. That’s certainly one way to get rid of nerves.

#smutcentralnet #inthemoodproject #thekimlinenet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut

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