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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win.

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into.

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against.

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times.

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you.

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned.

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away.

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering.

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet.

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in.

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine.

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong.

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight.

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else.

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that.

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata.

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face.

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it.

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate.

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation.

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms.

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

“You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion.

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually.

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu.

Two words, and your world stops spinning.

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate.

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps.

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise.

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much.

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane.

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably.

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted.

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time.

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps.

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing.

You can’t breathe.

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter.

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does.

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!”

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist.

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face.

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…”

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice.

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities.

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again.

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him.

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him.

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time.

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere miya atsumu #yandere miya atsumu x reader #yandere atsumu #yandere oikawa #tw toxic behavior #tw implied abuse #blind reader

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songbirdstyles · 4 years ago

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hangin’ on the telephone

summary: you decide to tease harry on a zoom for his class. he’s less than thrilled.

warnings: smut (18+), masturbation, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, some fluff?

word count: 5k

song inspo.: hanging on the telephone - blondie; sometimes on a fantasy - billy joel; love on the telephone - foreigner

author’s note: this doesn’t quite fit with the events of when i’m sixty-four and lola - this is if reader was in harry’s class during quarantine. don’t think about it too hard

Harry’s camera is shaky when the class first begins - his screen seems to quiver in itself as he adjusts it, large hand nearly completely blocking him from view before he adjusts himself properly. His camera quality is higher than yours and anyone else’s in the class, for that matter - courtesy of the expensive computers the university had provided to all of its teachers so they wouldn’t complain about how many Zooms they had to have.

That’s what his theory is, anyway. The university says they think its of utmost importance that all of our staff are treated to the highest levels of technology available - but the Macbooks they gave out were from 2015. Certainly not the highest levels.

In every other one of your classes, teachers hold their class as the only colorful block amongst a sea of turned off cameras, white letters reflecting the name of the student to make up for the lack of facial recognition. In Harry’s class, though, there are at least two pages of turned on cameras, and you don’t pretend to not know why. Surely everyone in this class - girls and guys alike - holds some similar fantasy that your professor will somehow fall in love with them through their grainy video on Zoom -

Well, unbeknownst to them, you’re the only one that gets to live that fantasy. In fact, it’s hardly a minute after the Zoom has begun that Harry murmurs jus’ wait a minute f’everyone t’get here - and the apex of your thighs is already heating up.

It’s been so long. Nearly three months since you’d last seen him in person - since you’d last felt his palms pressed to your cheeks, his hips tight against yours, his lips trailing a path up and down the soft column of your throat. And your relationship had never been entirely about sex but it’s a large part of it, feeling each other, and even if you’ve been calling each other for hours nearly every single night, it isn’t enough. You miss him so much it twists at your heart, most days, though it does, admittedly, feel nice to see him in class Zooms.

He’s donning a pink button up, the top button mercifully undone, curls messy and unstyled, and every so often he brings his hand up to run his fingers through it. You’re sure if you could see his full body you’d be able to see the blue checkered pajama pants he wears during all of your lazy days together - he’d never liked wearing dress pants when he didn’t have to. He’s in his bedroom, sitting at his desk, and you can recognize the curtains behind him from the many days (and nights) you’d spent in that exact room together before the entire world had went to shit, and now you miss those stupid curtains so much you can practically taste the desire on your tongue.

You shift in your seat, desire burning in between your legs. You’re not sure if the quirk in Harry’s eyebrow is due to recognition of the simple movement - he’d teased you enough times to recognize every single one of your mannerisms, even ones you didn’t know existed - or if he’s simply acknowledging that all of his students have finally entered the Zoom, but the movement still brings a small smile to your lips.

“Alrigh’, then - looks like we’re all here, now. May as well get started, hmm?” Harry begins, voice booming over everyone’s muted cameras, and the girls on your screen look like they’re practically swooning at the raspiness in his voice. You would judge them if you were a different type of person, but, God, his voice would bring an angel to her knees. You’re sure you look just as needy for him as they do. “Gave y’some questions from last class, right?” The class collectively nods. “Pull those out, then. We can go over them an’ have some discussions an’ analysis, all tha’ - easy class f’today.”

You minimize your Zoom screen and tap into your Google Docs, searching through your most recent documents until you find the questions he’d pushed out to all of you last class - you click on it and watch as your answers fill your screen before looking back to the Zoom, nibbling on your lower lip as you glance at Harry’s screen again.

He’s so composed in the most casual way possible - you can’t possibly know how he manages it. He looks almost like another student, leaning forward to rest his chin against his palm as he waits for everyone to get to their questions, and your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly feeling entirely too hot in your hoodie (his hoodie, actually) as your skin heats.

Simple fix. You grab the bottom of your hoodie and tug it off in one smooth motion, littering it on the side of your desk with a nonchalance that came naturally to you - the cool air of your parent’s basement does little to relieve the heat you feel, the burn seeming to come from the inside out, but you still relish in the coolness that washes over you like a wave. You’re simply wearing a tank top, the straps spaghetti thin and light blue, and you lean back in your seat with a soft sigh.

Harry coughs. It draws numerous eyes back to the screen at the sudden noise, and you furrow your eyebrows as you glance over towards him -

Realistically, there’s no way to know if he’s looking at you. You know that. And yet, somehow you know that he’s staring at you, his eyes darkening in a way that would be unnoticeable to anybody else but you know him. You know how he gets when he’s horny - like when you bent over in front of him to pick up your pencil, knowing it would make his pants feel just a bit tighter, and when you turned back to look at him you could fucking see the green hue of his eyes deepening in shade.

You hadn’t even meant to make him horny by taking off your hoodie, and that’s the truth. Maybe you’re both a bit touch starved from your months apart - but, no matter. You like watching him get like this, examining the way he shifts in his seat like you had moments before, and a smirk tinges your lips as you discreetly reach for the bottom of your tank top, tugging it down just a little bit further down your chest until your cleavage and the top of your bra peeks through. Then you lean forward, narrowing your eyes as though you’re searching through your computer for the questions, and you swear you can hear Harry’s breath catch.

He clears his throat, then. It’s a casual noise and it brings everyone’s attention back to him. “Let’s start wit’ number one - anyone want t’share their answer? Jus’ need a starting point f’our discussion - Sophie, good girl, go ahead.”

Sophie unmutes herself and begins reading her answer for the first question on your sheet, her voice just a bit higher than it usually is and you don’t pretend not to know why - but you’re not focused on it. Harry is smirking, lips tilted slightly upward as he nods along to Sophie’s answer even if you can tell he isn’t listening, and your heartbeat thumps harder against your chest.

Good girl? That bastard - and you can tell Sophie’s eating it up, too, skin flushed in a deep pink, and you narrow your eyes at Harry, already reaching for your phone to text him and tell him off - he knows how much you’d hate to hear anyone else being called good girl because that’s for you, dammit - but before you can, a small box pops up in the corner of your screen.

You lean in, squinting to read the small, granulated chat box -

Professor Styles: What’s got you looking so sour all of a sudden?

You roll your eyes. Cheeky asshole. He knows exactly what’s got you all sour, as Sophie’s voice drones on and on, further explaining her answer that hasn’t made too much sense to you, truly, and your fingers fly across your keyboard to furiously type your response.

You: you’re such a dick

His lips turn up into a larger smile, but before you can reach in to type a different response, Sophie has finished her answer and he nods. “Good answer, Sophie - what d’you guys think? Jacob, tha’s good.”

And Jacob begins to speak - his so called addition is just a poorly worded restatement of exactly what Sophie had said - and then you get another notification from your private chat with your professor. You click on the box and your stomach flips -

Professor Styles: Serves you right, practically flashing your tits to everyone in the class.

Professor Styles: If you were here, I’d put you over my knee.

You could moan at that. Holy shit, you really could. You cough into your first as someone else unmutes themselves to add onto Jacob, and you take just a moment to think of your response before you gnaw on your lower lip, fingers loud as you formulate your reply.

You: you would never. way too vanilla for that

It’s a damn lie and you know it. He’s fucking obsessed with spanking you, even if he’d never truly put you over his knee like a punishment but you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you showed the slightest bit of interest in the act - and you most certainly are interested.

But you like pissing him off. Like watching the way a vein jumps in his neck as he nods along to what somebody with their camera off is jabbering about and when they’re finished, his voice sounds just a bit deeper when he says, “Good, good. How ‘bout number two - Elizabeth?”

You tug your tank top down a bit further, smiling sweetly into the camera and to anyone else it may just look like you’re wholeheartedly agreeing with whatever your classmate is saying but you watch Harry’s eyes scan his screen before they surely land on you, and they widen slightly.

Another message pops up in record time - and you’d expected it - but it doesn’t make you any less desperate to lean in and read it.

Professor Styles: Or maybe I’d force you to kneel on the ground with my cock in your mouth for hours.

You: i think you know i’d love that

Professor Styles: Can’t move, can’t touch yourself, can’t do anything.

You swallow thickly, feeling your face heat up desperately. Your cunt is fucking dripping, now, surely desperate for your touch and every time you shift in your seat your clit rubs against the lace of your panties, sending jolts of pleasure rolling through your body as shaky fingers type a response.

You: you wouldn’t be able to last

Professor Styles: I’d last all day just to make you stay there.

Well - you have no shame in resting your hand on your lower stomach, just out of view of your camera. Eyes on Harry’s little box on your screen your fingertips slight down into your sweatpants, digits running over the moist fabric of your thong before pressing to your clit, and a wave of pleasure rolls through your body at the initial touch until you’re practically preening into your grasp, still caressing your cunt over your panties.

The class moves on to the next question - you’ve stopped paying attention ages ago, since the words good girl first slipped out of Harry’s mouth and he messaged you for the first time. You hook a finger into the crotch part of your panties, tugging them to the side and you can feel your wetness, strings connecting your dripping folds to the lace, and your breath picks up as you slip your hand into your panties.

The message comes fast. You’d been expecting it, pressing it open with the hand not shoved into your pants.

Professor Styles: You’re fucking touching yourself, aren’t you

It’s not a question. He can read you like a book - knows every one of your reactions because he was the only one who could pull them from you - and the way you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, glancing into the camera with an air of faux-innocence, is something he’s come to recognize.

You type your response slowly. Take your time, don’t rush, because you love to make him wait as your fingers slowly move in circles against your clit - too gentle to truly make you feel anything, touch feather soft as you spread moisture around the sensitive nub.

You: of course i am, professor. if you’re not here to do it for me…

You lean back in your office chair - to anyone else you look nonchalant and casual, if a bit bored of the proceedings in class - and your hand slides further into your panties, fingers smoothing up and down your folds until your breathing picks up, chest rising and falling as you finally push your pointer finger into yourself, immediately curling it upwards to brush against the sweet spot inside of your velvety walls that has you pushing your hips against your hands. You’re quivering for your own touch - for Harry’s, more so - as you push your own essence in and out of your cunt, heel of your palm brushing against your clit, before you glance back up at the screen.

And Harry is - God, he’s a sight, is what he is. He’s leaning back in his seat, like you, and you watch for a moment at the way his chest rises and falls against the fabric of his billowy dress shirt. The top button is still undone and as you watch, he reaches up and undoes the second one -

It’s like a collective moan rolls through the fucking class at the action. You can see every girl’s eyes widen on your screen as the overhead lights in Harry’s apartment illuminates the thin shine of sweat on his chest, and if you didn’t know better you’d simply assume that the AC in his apartment must be broken because he merely looks hot as he nods along to the current speaker - but you do know better.

If the camera was angled just a millimeter down, you’re sure you’d see the bulge through his pajama pants, thick and hard and desperate for your attention. For your mouth or your hands or your cunt, squeezing him so good, milking him for everything he’s worth until you’re both sobbing -

You add another finger into your pussy, sliding them in and out with a slow pace that gradually picks up until your ears are filled with the sound of your wetness, sloshing in your panties as you suck your teeth, trying to prevent your mouth from opening in a moan. You may look inconspicuous now but if your lips part in a desperate cry you know people will get suspicious -

Caught in your own pleasure, you’d missed Harry’s messages until the third one pops on your screen, and you scramble to click on the notification before it disappears.

Professor Styles: You’re a brat

Professor Styles: Trying to work me up like this

Professor Styles: Don’t you dare stop touching yourself.

The third one has your eyebrows furrowing - God, of course you’d never stop. You don’t think you could even physically drag your hands away from the pearl between your thighs until you’ve finally come over the edge and you didn’t need Harry to say it. You raise your eyebrows and begin typing your response with your free hand, fingers pumping in and out of your cunt desperately, but you’ve barely finished the text when you hear your name in his fucking voice and -

“What d’you think?” Harry inquires, voice even lower than it had been before, and you resist the urge to drop your mouth open in an appalled gasp as he practically stares into your fucking soul even through Zoom. Your heart drops into your ass and now you know why he’d wanted to confirm that you wouldn’t stop - “Why d’you think Steinbeck structured the book like he did?”

What? You don’t fucking know - you click to unmute yourself, fingers slowing down as you take a breath, tapping until you get to the answer written on your Google Doc. “Um - they’re plot chapters followed by intercalary chapters - they invoke an emotional response from readers.”

It’s a textbook answer, short and shitty and anyone with half a brain could tell that you simply said it so you would get the participation points, and you watch Harry’s eyebrows raised with a poorly-concealed smile.

“How d’they invoke an emotional response, though?”

And he’s such a tease - he loves this, watching you teeter near the edge of your orgasm with shaky breaths as you seemingly contemplate your answer for a moment - fingers circle your clit slowly as you say, “They - they show us the historical and societal background - which - which broadens the scope of the novel.”

You, truthfully, think you did a fairly decent job keeping your composure - sure, your voice was a bit airy, a bit breathy, and you’re sure you tripped a bit over your words, but you at least didn’t moan out wildly in front of your entire class - celebrate the little things. And, yeah, it may not have been the best answer, but Jacob is already unmuting himself to elaborate and restate your entire answer, which feels like a win in your book, at least.

Professor Styles: Good girl. Kept your cool.

You’re practically trembling, resuming your thrusting of your fingers deep within your cunt, as you shakily type your response, fingers quivering on the keyboard.

You: wish you were here

And - when you realize that sounds a bit too sentimental to fit the situation at hand, fingering yourself in front of the entire class - you hurry to type something else.

You: to eat me out

You bring your eyes up to the screen again, fast enough to watch the quick smile spread across his face - his eyes dart around the screen for a moment before landing on a spot that you assume to be your box, and you exhale softly, curling your finger upward to that spot that has your back arching forward, tits pushing closer to the camera before you drop back against your seat.

Professor Styles: I’d do anything to have my face in your cunt right now.

You inhale sharply, nearly coughing as you pick up your speed, lips parting the slightest bit in a soft whine that erupts from your throat before you can try to fight it back - your eyes shut, head falling back against your chair, and you’re so close you can feel your impending release on the tip of your tongue like your favorite meal.

It’s the sound of the chat notification on Zoom that makes your eyes open, and you click on it. It’s hard to read, vision going fuzzy as your orgasm comes closer and closer, but you can make it out -

Professor Styles: Eyes open.

Professor Styles: And keep your camera on when you cum.

You practically whimper at the request but you oblige - eyes opened and staring directly at his box, at the way his face is practically bright red, sitting up straighter in his seat. He’s moved his camera angle up more, concealing his abdomen until only his chest and head is visible, showcasing the two undone buttons at the top of his pink shirt.

He sure doesn’t look composed now. Not a total disaster - but not the cool, calm professor who had first opened Zoom nearly 45 minutes ago.

Your eyes are moving towards the camera when you notice something in his box that has your eyebrows raising, eyes wide and alert as you squint, fingers briefly paused in their mission to get you to orgasm -

Your free hand flies across the keyboard as you type the message, mind spinning with the image you’d seen - the way his fabric creased near his shoulder, like his arm had been moving up and down with an unbridled, jerky pace -

You: are you jerking off, professor?

And you can see the exact moment he reads the message, his eyes widening, before he unmutes himself and loudly proclaims, “Question 4, then? W - Who wants t’start us off? Jamie, good, tell us wha’ you’ve got.”

And Jamie goes off in some tangent about their answer, words sounding like mud in your brain, as Harry mutes himself once more, and it’s only another moment until you get the next message.

Professor Styles: How could you expect me not to?

Good answer. You know that if you’d caught him jerking off before you had the chance to stick your hands down your panties, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself - but it’s still surprising, watching the fabric of his shirt rustle. It’s not obvious in a way anyone else could tell but you can, and that’s all that matters.

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, bringing your sodden fingers up to your clit. You’resoclosesoclosesoclose - your trembling fingers rub hard circles into your clit, pussy fluttering around the emptiness after you’ve pulled your fingers out, and you clench your muscles taut as you pinch the sensitive nub -

Fuck. There it is - a burning sensation throughout your body as flames lick up your body, rocking through every inch of your skin - it’s all you can do to sit there, legs spread, practically biting back the urge to sob out with the force of it all, and keeping a poker face feels like some sort of torture form. Your cunt jolts beneath your fingers as you try and ride yourself through it, sticky wetness coating your fingers with proof of your release until it’s all over your sweatpants, soaking the gray fabric darker.

Harry’s the only person who’s ever made you squirt - twice, it happened, once into his mouth and the other around his cock as he overstimulated you until you were practically sobbing. And he’d loved it, too, pulling out even though he hadn’t cum yet and sinking to his knees to lap the moisture from between your thighs, eyes rolling back into his head as though it brought him such pleasure to sit there and eat you while you grabbed at his hair.

You’ve never done it yourself. Not with just your fingers.

The next message comes before the aftershocks have finished rolling through your body, and you need to take a few seconds to compose yourself before reaching to read it.

Professor Styles: I love watching you cum.

You resist the urge to smile, resting your palm against your swollen cunt as you use the other hand to type your response.

You: squirted all over my hand.. wish you could’ve seen it

You can practically hear the way he chokes when he reads it, even through his muted mic, and your response comes in seconds.

Professor Styles: I’m wrapping up the class early. Stay after.

It’s a demand and one that you’re more than willing to oblige, giving one unceremonious jerk of your head upwards as you lean back into your seat. And, true to his word, he unmutes himself, declaring loudly that since he wanted an easy day you could all leave early - not too early, mind you, a mere seven minutes before the class would officially be over - but he could let the class out twenty seconds early and they’d act like he canceled an exam.

People unmute themselves to say goodbye before boxes quickly begin disappearing, the number of participants dropping down until it’s just the two of you, squares side by side next to each other, and you reach to unmute yourself the second the last person has left.

“Harry - Harry, fuck,” you breathe, pushing your computer back and angling it down more so he can see your body. He unmutes himself and you can hear his gasped breathing as he pushes his own laptop back until you can see him fully and - “Fuck.”

His pajama pants are pushed past his cock, curling towards his stomach and an angry shade of red. His fist wraps tight around it, pumping himself up and down with his chest rising and falling desperately, and the thought of him doing this during your Zoom call has another pang of pleasure rolling through your body from your clit.

“Unbutton your shirt,” you beg him, propping your foot on your desk as you shimmy your sweatpants down your thighs, kicking them off into a pile on the floor. Your cunt is exposed to him, covered only by a sopping scrap of lace that you call underwear, and you’re quick to pull it away from your pussy to show him as you dip your fingers back down to your clit, circling it freely. You’re still entirely too sensitive, and the simple motion has your chest arching vehemently, but you can’t watch him do this without feeling the overwhelming urge to cum again and again -

He obliges, practically tearing the shirt away from his chest until the two halves have split open and you get an eyeful of his chest, littered in tattoos that only you get the pleasure of seeing - the butterfly you love to press your palms against when you ride his face - the ship you always grasp when you’re rolling against his thigh -

“Finger y’self,” Harry grunts, breathing desperate and heavy as you lean back in your seat, exposing yourself further to him, your chest heaving. “An’ take off tha’ tank top.”

You grab the end of the shirt, tugging it up and over your head and littering it on the side of your office chair, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms so you can peel the cups away from your tits, displaying your peaked nipples to him, and he moans at the sight, the noise low and guttural. You slide two fingers into your cunt easily, the dripping essence of your release still lubricating your digits to push in and out of yourself.

It isn’t going to take long for either of you - you can tell. He plants his free palm on the edge of his desk, leaning forward and baring his chest to you, and you push yourself to sit up more, resting your free hand on your tits. Fingers pinch at your nipple, the peaked bud sending rays of euphoria through your body, and you drop your head back with a desperate whine.

“Y’close?” Harry asks through gritted teeth, words interrupted with needy breaths and gasps as you nod, and you can tell that anything he’d said about punishing you is gone - he won’t stop you now, not when you’re so close, not when all either of you want is to touch each other. You want to reach through the camera, to press your lips to his, feel his palms smooth up and down your back before traveling downwards until he can slide his fingers into your cunt - one of his is bigger than both of yours, and he’d fill you up so good you wouldn’t be able to do anything else but cry out.

And you - you’d rest your knees on either side of his thighs, lowering yourself into his lap as his length slides against your stomach. Scraping your nails through his hair always makes him cry out and your fingers tense around your breasts as you imagine it, thinking of the way he’d moan and beg for you to pull it harder, lowering his lips to your nipple as you obey him.

You’ll always obey him. (In bed, at least.) God, you really would sit on your knees for hours, holding his cock in your mouth like it’s your fucking job, and you’d love it, too.

“Look at me, baby,” Harry moans, voice crackling through the speaker of your shitty computer and you oblige, hazy eyes rolling upwards to the camera, and you swallow thickly, pumping your fingers faster in and out of your cunt. “Look at me when y’cum … c’mon, baby.”

You don’t need much more encouragement than that. With one curl of your fingers upwards to hit the sweet spot deep within your velvet core you cum, eyes rolling back into your head with a piercing cry that makes you entirely too grateful that it’s your parents’ date night - your cunt clenches and unclenches around your fingers as you finally hit your peak, breath coming out in needy groans as you release over your fingers.

You’ve barely finished when Harry’s tell-tale groan sounds through the basement and you snap your eyes back to his figure, glancing at him just in time to see him cum, white ribbons spurting out of his cock and coating his hand and the sleeve of his pink dress shirt. He drops his head forward with a grunt, fist still jerking up and down his dick as though he’s trying to milk every last drop all over his abdomen, and your breathing turns more jagged as you watch like he’s a fucking piece of art and you’re nothing but a spectactor.

And then - for a moment - there’s silence. Not silence, in its literal definition, as desperate, heaving breaths pierce the air even screens apart, and you’re not sure which of you will be the first to speak. You can hardly breathe right, let alone say any coherent sentence, and Harry takes the lead.

“Did good, baby,” he breathes, voice so soft you can barely hear it, and you nod, wiping your moist hand on your outer thigh. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit up more. “And your dick.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, raising his hand to examine the cum that coats his palm and fingers as though he’s never seen anything like it. “Yeah - I miss y’pussy. Not used t’not cumming in you.”

“Yeah,” you begin. “Feel empty without -”

You’re cut off before you can finish as Harry raises his fingers to his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick at the bits of cum that decorate his skin. Your lips part needily as you watch him, eyes wide as saucers until he’s fully lapped up every ribbon of cum, and he smacks his lips as though he’d enjoyed a great meal.

“Don’t get how y’swallow so often,” Harry says, and even through his faux-casual demeanor you can see the corners of his lips turning up at your state. “Really doesn’t taste good -”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“M’horny again.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #prof!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles drabble #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song i.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, not really much to warn in this first chapter, there’s some flirting, oc doesn’t want to admit she finds seokjin dishy, she’s possibly in denial that there’s a spark there, jimin and soobin appear 🥰 words; 11,028

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

You hated being late. Not only did you pride yourself on your impeccable time management but sleeping through your alarm always threw you out of whack for the rest of the day. You blamed the annual student reports that had to be written. No matter how organised you were, every year they seemed to sneak up on you and disrupt your prompt 11pm bedtime. You’d been still awake past 1am last night, determined to give each student the report they deserved. The yearly parent-teacher meetings were tomorrow (Friday) and Monday evening; it was officially the end of the school year countdown, which was ironically the most difficult time of the year.

No wonder your stress levels were so high lately. You felt like a ticking timebomb, wondering what on earth would set you off – because it was inevitable. This morning it could have been a number of things… Your inability to awake when your alarm went off, the fact your clothes were still slightly damp from insufficient drying time, your forgotten lunch still at home in the refrigerator, or now, your current predicament – you couldn’t find a space to park your car.

You always got to work an hour early, that way you had enough time to get ready for the school day before the student’s turned up and the teacher’s parking lot was empty. You had your pick of spaces. Today however, with just fifteen minutes to spare before class began, you didn’t have much choice. The spot that required you to reverse in between two cars, or the one that was secluded but came with a price – the sun’s hotspot.

You were stopped idly between the two, mentally making you decision while also damning this day to hell, when suddenly there was a thud and you jerked forwards, a gasp escaping your fallen mouth. Your hands had unconsciously clenched around the steering wheel so you ever so slowly eased up, straightening your back as you caught a look in the rear-view mirror.

“Oh, my god.” You breathed quietly, reaction time delayed greatly. Shock probably.

You watched as a black car – twice the size of yours and almost blindingly shiny – pulled away from the side of your vehicle, back into the space they’d just reversed out of. They’d hit you. You’d been hit. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. It wasn’t even 8am.

There was a clunk of a car door and then a man in a suit came hurrying into view, as fast as he could manage, a look of pure horror on his face. Still on autopilot, you felt your hand reach for the handle of your door, pushing it open to find yourself getting out.

“Are you okay?” The well-dressed man asked, panic evident in his voice. The very well-dressed man. His suit was a three-piece, black and white houndstooth. It looked expensive. Which just seemed to piss you off for some unexplainable reason.

You were fine of course, dazed maybe, the blow hadn’t been that serious at all, but that was besides the point. This man, in his very obnoxious suit (even if it did hug his body in extremely cruel ways) had not been concentrating. He’d reversed straight into your poor little car that was no match for his hefty thing. Your shock was shifting. In its place grew anger.

When you didn’t reply, than man carried on. “I am so sorry, Miss.” An annoying shrill sounded between you both. The cell phone in his hand. He ignored it – or at least tried to. “I really am. I was–”

He stopped abruptly midsentence, letting out a huff. Whoever was calling him wasn’t relenting. He picked up, talking quickly, an air of authority to his voice that caught your attention. “Kim Seokjin, speaking. Please can I – I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call you back. There’s been an emergency.” A pause as the person on the other end of the line spoke. They weren’t given much time. “Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.”

The man – Kim Seokjin apparently – hung up, attention immediately back on you. “I’m just so sorry. Is there any damage?” He made his way over to the place he’d hit, just above your back wheel, crouching down, and grimaced. “Oh god.”

You followed, coming face to face with the black scratches that now marred the white paint of your vehicle. It wasn’t so bad, he hadn’t sped out of the space, but something had definitely scraped the steel, and again, that was beside the point. He’d still reversed into your car.

“The bike rack,” he muttered to himself. Your answer. He looked across at his car, brushing a hand through his hair. It stayed perfectly in place, pushed back above his forehead. He was a striking man, you’d give him that. Features made up of, what you could only describe as soft angles. Actually, thinking about it, he was pretty intimidatingly beautiful. That just made you angrier. How dare this stranger unnerve you with his good looks.

“What happened?” You asked hotly.

He looked up at you, taken back by your tone, but composed himself fairly quickly. “I-I was distracted for a moment, I didn’t realise–”

“Were you on your phone?”

“I’m sorry?” You looked down at the device still in his hand. On cue it started ringing again. He hit ignore straight away. “No, no. God, no.” He protested, shoving the phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He straightened up, head and shoulders above you. You crossed your arms and waited for his explanation, straining as tall as you could get. His cologne smelt amazing, you tried to ignore it.

“I was – I was trying to get the handsfree to work in this damn car and last time I checked there was no one there.” He seemed flustered. A far cry from the authoritative figure he’d been on the phone call. “I wasn’t thinking, I just backed out –” He stopped, as if he suddenly realised something. “Why… Why were you on stop directly behind me?”

“Excuse me?” You instantly got defensive, hands waving about animatedly as you explained “I wasn’t stopped, I was trying to find a space.”

You hadn’t been aware there was someone occupying the vehicle. No one left the staff parking lot in the morning so there was never any worry about somebody reversing into you. This was all on him. He wasn’t going to try and turn it around on you.

“I’m sorry, but do you even work here?” This school was small, he definitely wasn’t a teacher here, and you doubted he was a substitute. He was too well-dressed for a start. Who the hell was he?!

He looked momentarily confused. “Work here? No.”

“Then why are you using the teacher’s parking lot?” Your arms were folded across your chest again.

His eyes widened in horror, realisation setting in. “Oh no. I didn’t realise...”

“It’s signposted.” His mistake seemed genuine, but that really wouldn’t cut it. Because of his mistake your car was now scratched. You’d have to contact your insurance company and god only knows if they would pay out seeing as the damage was really only cosmetic, and if they did, it would probably take an age.

“It’s my first time dropping off my daughter at this school. I didn’t know where to go, and I was getting so many phone calls, I was just trying to…” He petered out, realising you probably didn’t care about his morning. So what? He was having a shitty one? So were you!

“There’s no excuses for this.” He lowered his head in apology. “I’m truly sorry and I feel awful.”

You found yourself softening. He did sound extremely genuine. You opened your mouth to reply, to accept his apology, but he spoke up again. “Let me sort this out. Money is no object. I can call my mechanic straight away and–”

“There’s no need,” you told him immediately, horror stricken.

“It’s really no problem.” He insisted. “Come on, if we wait for our insurance companies to sort this out god knows how long it will take. No, I’ll phone the mechanic I use right now and they can come and pick your vehicle up. It’ll be fixed in no time. You won’t have to pay a thing.”

“No, thank you.” Your anger was growing again. Irritation itching your face. Who did this man think he was? Money didn’t solve everything. Most people didn’t have that luxury.

“No?”

His bewilderment made you see red. “I don’t need your help or your money.”

You could be very stubborn when you wanted to be. You’d been told so throughout your life; family, friends, exes… No, you’d just pay for the repairs yourself. You’d rather wake up late for an eternity than take his money.

“But I did this.”

He really wasn’t getting it. “It’s fine, just –” You were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone again. “You’re obviously very busy, just forget about it. It’s a few scratches.” You turned your back to him, glancing at your watch. You had just under two minutes to decide on a parking space and get to your classroom.

“Wait,” he called out.

“Goodbye,” you called back, rounding the front of your car to dive back into the driver’s seat.

“But – Argh!” You heard him let out a yell, his phone still shrilling loudly. He sounded frustrated when he answered. “Soobin, what is it?! Yes, I already told him I’m – What? He said they were…”

He became inaudible as you slammed your door shut, using his distraction to drive off – straight into the easiest parking spot available… You guessed your poor car would have to turn into a damn sauna for today.

After the morning you had you were thrown all out of whack. All day you didn’t know whether you were coming or going, your students seeming more hyper than usual and by 3pm you were ecstatic to see them leave. Your head was throbbing by the time half 4 rolled around, the final touches to your student reports complete at least. Not long after you trudged in the direction of your boiling hot car, stomach still queasy from the canteen slop you’d been forced to eat today and stress levels now barely manageable. Only one more day until the weekend, yet now you’d be forced to deal with finding an affordable mechanic with your free time.

You were still in disbelief over today’s events. That frustratingly handsome stranger with the concentration levels of a two year old and more money than sense. You scoffed to yourself, how dare he try to flaunt his wealth around like that. What had his name been again? He’d said on the phone… You couldn’t remember, your temper had been too distracting…

Whelp. You were having second thoughts… Maybe you’d been too harsh earlier… You hadn’t been overly rude at all, but you had been quite curt. He did seem genuinely sorry after all, and maybe you’d misjudged what you guessed was an act of kindness. After all, you had been on stop behind him, and while he should’ve double checked before backing out, it wasn’t all on him. You were both to blame. You felt guilty for not thanking him for his apology. For your preconceived opinions on him. You didn’t even know the man and there you were making judgements –

You stopped dead in your tracks as you got closer to where your car was parked, thoughts immediately interrupted. “What the –?”

Stopped in front of it was small towing vehicle, Park Esteem written along the side in bold orange font. A man rounded the corner of the truck, a clipboard in his hand as he looked around, presumably for the owner of the car he seemed so eager to tow. You. He was looking for you.

You jumped to action, breaking into a run. “Excuse me, Excuse me!” The guy with the clipboard looked up at the sound of your strained voice calling out. It was shrill as you came to a halt right in front of him, demanding an explanation. “What are you doing? Why are you towing my car?!”

“You’re the owner of this vehicle, Miss?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed in disbelief. “What’s the problem?”

He looked down at his notes, visibly confused by your reaction it seemed. “Uh, Mr. Kim has requested I pick up your vehicle and take it to be fixed for the damage he caused?”

Mr. Kim?! Who the hell was – wait. Kim Seokjin. His name came back to you instantly. He’d gone behind your back after you explicitly said you didn’t want or need his help. How dare he. And there you’d been feeling guilty for the way you’d treated him not two minutes previous.

“He said to be here at 4pm as you should be finishing work around then…” The mechanic carried on, voice softening, as if he was about to bear bad news. “I’ve been here for thirty minutes, Miss. I’m afraid I’ll have to bill him for that separately. Time is money after all.”

You checked your watch on autopilot. It was coming up to twenty to five. Shaking out of it, you straightened your shoulders, back to fighting mode for the second time today. “You can’t just take my car without my permission.”

The man grimaced slightly. “Well see, he’s already paid for the towage, and Mr. Kim is a very valuable and trustworthy customer.”

“Trustworthy?” You scoffed. “He’s stealing my car! I’m sorry but no, I refuse this…” You paused to think. “This service.” This was so absurd. Not only had this Mr. Kim totally disregarded your wishes, the towing of your car was incredibly over the top. The damage was cosmetic, everything was in fine working order. It didn’t need to be helped to the workshop. The thought of something so dramatic was infuriating.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss. Mr. Kim already paid for the towage upfront so I can’t actually do anything about it now…”

You stared at the man, telling yourself to take deep breaths. It wasn’t his fault. He was just doing his job. “So I have to let you take my car?”

He gave you a gentle smile. “I’m afraid so…unless…” He hesitated. “Unless you pay for the reversal…”

“And how much is this reversal?” Your arms were crossed for what felt like the hundredth time today.

You nearly keeled over when you were told the price. Damn that arrogant handsome man. Damn him straight to hell. Kim Seokjin, you would never forget that name now. What a complete and utter d–

“I’m sorry for the confusion, Miss. I was under the impression you knew Mr. Kim.” The mechanic apologised.

You found yourself softening. He had a gentle voice. A gentle face too. It was that conceited so-and-so you were mad at. You were glad you’d left the classroom late today, not many cars left in the parking lot which meant less chance of a co-worker seeing this embarrassment.

“So, I’m going to need to take your details now.” He continued, holding his clipboard out, sounding hopeful that you’d calmed down. “Just so I can arrange drop off at your address tomorrow.” You nodded slowly, watching him stretch out a hand. “I’m Jimin, by the way. Park Jimin from Park Esteem Car Services.”

You shook it, introducing yourself automatically. “I’m Y/N.”

He gave you a dazzling smile. “Lovely name. How do you spell that?”

Ten minutes later your poor car was hooked up to Jimin’s truck, ready to go, just as a sleek black car with tinted windows pulled up alongside you. Out rushed a tall young man. He looked a little frazzled as he straightened out his suit jacket but smiled your way. “Hello, are you the owner of this vehicle?”

“Yes,” you replied rather woodenly. What fresh hell?

He smiled wider, outstretching his hand. “Hi, lovely to meet you. I’m Mr. Kim’s personal assistant, Mr. Choi, but you can call me Soobin.”

You completed your second handshake of the day – two too many and introduced yourself too. Inside you had a million and one questions. It began with ‘Why was his personal assistant here?’ and ended with ‘When would this day finally be over?’

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” The young man – Soobin – apologised. “Things have been incredibly hectic at the office today. I’m so glad you’re still here.”

Jimin appeared by the side of you then. “Hi, you work for Mr. Kim?” Soobin nodded, tilting his head in curiosity. “Well, there have been a few misunderstandings this afternoon. Mr. Kim said he knew the client but she really has no idea who he is. Other than he was the one who hit her car.”

Soobin grew flustered, bumbling over his words. “Oh, well, um…”

“It’s fine,” you shook you head, not wanting to put the poor boy in an awkward position. This Mr. Kim seemed to like passing the buck onto innocent people.

Jimin nodded. “Maybe just let your boss know that next time he should probably inform the person whose car he’s having towed…”

Soobin laughed then, making light of an awkward situation even if it was forced. “Sure, sure.”

“Okay, well, nice meeting you,” Jimin turned to you. “I’ll have this done by tomorrow, shouldn’t take too long, there’s not much damage at all.” You had the sudden urge to apologise for wasting his time but you stayed quiet. “You said you’ll be home by 7pm?” You nodded. “Great. Someone will drop it off shortly after that.” He tapped the side of his truck and smiled. “Have a lovely rest of your day, Y/N.”

“Thank you, and you.” You waved him off – waved your car off too as Jimin started to drive and it disappeared into the distance, then you turned your attention back to Soobin. What was he doing here?

On cue, he began to explain. “So, Mr. Kim is giving you a temporary loan of one of his cars for the time being, as apology and, well, a gesture of good faith. He really is awfully sorry about this morning.” There was silence as you made sense of his words. “The tank is full, no need for any expense on your side.”

You forced yourself to speak. “Wait, hang on, he’s loaning me his car?”

“One of them, yes,” Soobin smiled. One of them. How many did this man have? “He really doesn’t use this one, so don’t feel like you’re an inconvenience, it’s really no bother at all.” He pulled the key fob out of his pocket and handed it to you with a kind but awkward smile. “Here.”

“So… I’m just riding his car home?” You’d told Jimin you’d call your best friend to pick you up when he’d offered you a ride home. You could still very well do that, but refusing this young man just seemed plain mean. After all, he had driven here despite a busy schedule. You didn’t want to waste his time. Poor boy was just doing what he was told, this Mr. Kim’s dogsbody.

“Yes,” Soobin nodded, looking a little confused now. As if he was wondering why you weren’t understanding what he was saying. “Oh, wait,” he suddenly remembered, pulling a piece of paper (cream wove) out of his breast pocket. “Here’s a contact number for him to arrange the pick-up of the vehicle tomorrow evening. It might be me, but it depends on my schedule.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, still a little dazed, looking down at the number. You folded the paper and dropped it into your purse, suddenly realising something. “Wait, how are you getting home?”

“Hm?” He wasn’t expecting that question. “Oh, subway probably.”

You anger flared once again. “So this Mr. Kim instructs you to ride one of his cars to my place of work, loan it to me and then expects you to just walk to the subway station?”

Soobin blinked slowly a couple of times, hearing the attitude in your voice. “Well, when you say it like that you make it seem…bad. Your tone...” He shrugged and then gave a small laugh that wrinkled his nose. “I’m happy to walk, you know, exercise, get that blood pumping…” He finished with a few nimble stretches just to emphasise, before looking comically aghast. “Sorry. Ignore my unprofessionalism.”

You jerked your head towards the car. “Get in.”

His mouth hung open in confusion. “What?”

“I’ll give you a ride home. Do you live far?”

“Not too far, Miss.”

He waited for you to get into the driver’s seat and then followed quickly, getting in beside you. He couldn’t have wanted to walk that much then... “Call me Y/N.” You told him with a kind smile. “I don’t like all this professionalism. Besides, I get called Miss all day, every day. It gets tiring after a while.”

He nodded dutifully in reply, back straight.

You were on pins driving all the way home, eager to drop Soobin home so you could let go of your composure. This car was way too nice for you. Why did this stranger trust you with it?! His car. He didn’t know you. You could be the worst driver in the world for all he knew. You weren’t, but you could be.

After you’d pulled up in your driveway you stayed there for a few minutes, needing some silence, just to calm yourself down, because you knew soon enough you’d get bombarded with questions. Sooner than you thought actually, because there was your front door ripping open, your best friend and roomie, Soojung, rushing out. “What is going on?” She demanded as you pushed the car door open. “Taken up car theft in your spare time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed, already trudging to the house.

She followed behind closely. “Um, you’re talking about it alright. You can’t just park up in a car worth more than both our salaries a year and expect me to not bat an eyelid.”

You scoffed at her dramatics, hanging your purse over the coat rack. “It’s not worth that much.”

“Y/N, I mean this with the least possible offence, but you know absolutely jack shit about cars.” You had no time for a comeback. “Now tell me where the hell did you get that car?!”

After the third degree from Soojung for over an hour, you managed to shut her up with an in depth description of your car thief (as you were now calling him), which included in no particular order: what he looked like, his estimated age, his outfit and how rich you thought he was. You insisted you were in no way bothered by any of these factors and you were only humouring her for some much needed peace and quiet. She spent the next ten minutes begging you to call him and put him on loudspeaker so she could hear his voice, but you outright refused. You were not calling him tonight, you couldn’t trust yourself not to raise your voice. It could wait for tomorrow, when your first round of parent-teacher meetings were over and you had your own car back in your driveway. Mr. Kim could wait for his, it was the least he could do after all the trouble he’d caused today. You bet he had another six cars anyway – one for each day of the week.

Soojung made you both a late dinner and not long after that you crawled your way to bed, exhausted and not at all mentally ready for tomorrow. You did wake up ten minutes before your alarm though, which you chose to take as a good sign, remembered your lunch too, and you hated to admit it, but your loaned vehicle drove like a dream once you weren’t so scared of accidentally careening it off a cliff, or something equally as impossible.

You day actually went by without a hitch. All the children were well-behaved, much more subdued than yesterday, but maybe that was because your stress levels had rapidly decreased with the positive signs from this morning. They had raised a little when Mrs. Jeon from third grade had enquired about the new car she’d seen you driving into school, but after giving her a very much condensed version of yesterday’s events you both had a little laugh together, where she then proceeded to joke around and tell you that you shouldn’t give the car back… or at least you thought she was joking… However, other than that, the school day breezed by.

Better yet, all the parents scheduled for meetings today were on time, and despite the rush end of year reports brought, you genuinely did love the opportunity to talk with your students’ parents one on one. You’d been teaching the first grade at the same school for over seven years now and despite the ups and downs being a teacher brought, it really was the most rewarding and fulfilling job. Especially at a school like this. This place was like a home to you, all you had ever known, and your students meant the world to you. Each and every one. Class sizes were always small at Primrose Hill, and that always made your connection with the kids even greater.

There was always a sadness in your heart when May rolled around, the school year nearly over and you had to get ready to bid goodbye to the children who’d been a part of your life for over nine months. Of course, come September you would greet a new class of students once again, but it was always so bittersweet…

It was just gone half past six now and you were waiting on the last parent of the evening. 5/6 parents on time was still a success. Hopefully Monday you would see full marks. You were waiting on the father of your newest student, Kim Arin. She’d only been with you two months, and it was very unusual that a child joined you so late into the year. You didn’t know all the details, but it seemed that her parents were divorced and she’d recently moved to live with her dad. You liked Arin, she was a sweet little girl, quite timid at times, especially in the beginning, but that was to be expected of course. It was always nerve-wracking to start a new school. She’d gradually come out of her shell, made friends and she was incredibly gifted in storytelling for such a young age. In a few years, if she kept it up, who knew what she’d be creating. You couldn’t wait to tell her father that. You’d grown very fond of her very quickly and you would definitely miss her come September.

“Come in,” you called, a knock on your classroom door breaking you from your thoughts. Your back was to the entryway, preoccupied with collecting Arin’s report and classwork on your desk, so you didn’t see who entered, although presumably it was her father.

“Oh, hello again.”

You froze at the sound of the voice. That voice. Why was it so familiar? Why did it get your hackles up? As if you needed to prepare for a fight– Oh.

You turned abruptly, eyes wide as you came face to face with the car thief. What on earth was he doing here? Had he come to collect his car?! Maybe you should’ve rung him last night, but it seemed a little unbelievable that he was chasing this up so keenly. You weren’t the thief in question. He was. How insane was it to track you down like this. Who had given him your name? Who had told him what class you would be in? Surely it was forbidden?

“If this is about the car business, we’ll have to sort it out later on, I’m expecting a parent of a student any minute now.” Straightening your back you held eye contact. He was very amused, eyes twinkling as he smiled at you, cheeks rounded. It made you feel slightly unnerved, but by damn had you forgotten how infuriatingly handsome that face of his was. Jerk.

He held up his hand slightly and laughed. “I’m the parent in question.”

“What?”

You stood there limply like an idiot, blinking slowly as you tried to mentally put the pieces together. Kim Arin. Mr. Kim. Kim Seokjin, the arrogant, money can solve everything so-and-so was Arin’s father? Great. Absolutely gr–

“You’re Miss. Y/L/N?”

“You’re Arin’s father?” It was obvious by now, but maybe there was that 0.001% chance he’d gotten the wrong classroom. Maybe.

“Such a small world,” he grinned, all hope lost. He held out his hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

There was a teasing to his tone, it got you pissed again, but you had to take it. You were in a professional setting now, you were his daughter’s teacher. His hand was warm, soft, grip gentle. Maybe you squeezed too hard, maybe he didn’t notice. “Please take a seat, I won’t be a minute.”

Your tone was clipped, unable to sound at all breezy like you had with the other parents, and you turned back to your desk, rifling through more papers even though you had everything you needed. In all honesty, you just needed some thinking time. Get through this twenty minute meeting, you told yourself. Pretend like he wasn’t the man who hit your car and then got it towed a few hours later. You could do it.

You felt him take the seat behind you, amusement still strong as he asked you a question. “So, are we just going to pretend yesterday didn’t happen?”

You collected Arin’s work and rounded your desk, taking a seat directly in front of him, careful to keep your expression neutral. “Right now’s not the time to discuss personal matters. Let’s just wait until this is over.” Twenty minutes and then he’d have it. He wouldn’t be smirking then.

Although surprisingly, immediately after you said that he grew serious, nodding his head in agreement. “Of course. My apologies. Sorry I was late, by the way, I couldn’t escape the office.”

Taken back by his sudden change in demeanour you shook your head. “It’s fine.” You weren’t expecting it to be so easy, but he listened.

“So,” he prompted when you didn’t follow up with anything. “Should we get started?”

You jolted, unaware you’d been lost in thought and silently cursed yourself. He was going to think an idiot was in charge of teaching his daughter. Not that it mattered what he thought, but still, you needed to snap out of it. He was here to talk about Arin and as her teacher you had plenty to say.

Seokjin was highly focused throughout the whole meeting, taking on bored everything you had to say with earnest. He wanted to know how his daughter was getting on at her new school and was interested in all the work she had completed in the short amount of time she’d been here. He didn’t have to, but he gave you a small explanation about why she’d had to switch schools so late into the year, and even though you already knew it was because she’d moved to live with him, you stayed silent, letting him carry on. He sounded so genuine, so worried about what the move could’ve done to Arin’s education and mental health that it ended up touching you. It was visibly obvious how much he loved and cared for his daughter and that was refreshing to see. A lot of the time it was the mothers who attended these parent-teaching meetings, you rarely had the chance to speak to the dads, so you did relish in this opportunity, discussing Arin’s talent in creative writing in depth, showing Seokjin the collection of short stories she’d written, and giving him tips when he asked on ways she could improve.

That would come with age, you said, but there was one small thing she may want to stop now rather than later. Her most recent story, a beautiful and creative fantasy piece that she unfortunately ended with the ‘it was all a dream’ trope.

“What’s wrong with that?” Seokjin asked. You instantly sensed that his defensive was up. It made you smile as you gave a slight shrug.

“Nothing per se, it can just be a little cliché. There’s much better ways to end a story.”

“Sure, but she’s only 6. It can’t be that serious?”

Your smile grew. “I understand that, Mr. Kim. Like I said, Arin is truly gifted for her age, it was just a pointer that you asked for.” You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise, but he seemed thoroughly into this discussion now.

He tilted his head in thought. “What if it was the legitimate ending of a story? There’s obviously famous novels with such conclusions.”

Amused, you mimicked him. “For instance?”

“Hm?”

That caught him off guard. “What novels? Name me some.”

His eyes grew comically wide at your request, and just as you suspected, he couldn’t answer. He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed. Was that a little colour on his cheeks? “You’ve put me on the spot.”

You were both so engrossed discussing Arin that the time seemed to fly by. It was near to 7pm by the time you wrapped things up, and you’d enjoyed yourself so much you almost forgot you’d made a deal with yourself to start chewing Seokjin out the moment it was all over. He ever so kindly reminded you.

“You know, I was expecting a very angry phone call last night. I was quite surprised when it never came.”

Both of you were now stood up, your desk still between you. Seokjin held copies of Arin’s stories that you’d given him to read over in his free time and you with nothing to fiddle with, folded your arms across your chest. Ah, here we go again. The playful lilt to his voice back from earlier, that infuriating smirk too.

He was dressed in a much less flashy suit today. A simple slate grey two piece, his dark hair styled against his forehead, the smallest peek of forehead visible. It made him appear younger – not that he looked old anyway. Your guessing was mid 30s maybe, but this hairstyle made him appear softer. The faintest of lines around his eyes provided the slightest of giveaways, but then again, you only noticed them because you were searching for any clue to his age. His hair was still thick and dark and it definitely didn’t look like he dyed it. His body was… hm, he was built well. He certainly seemed to look after it. Not that you were looking, of course.

You could definitely see the resemblance between him and Arin. Their eyes were the same almond shape, both deep brown in colour, and while their noses were slightly different, Arin’s cheeks obviously rounder, their plump lips were uncanny.

Despite very much in thought, you kept your expression unreadable, nose in the air as you replied. “Perhaps I was too mad for words.”

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. If they were natural, life was incredibly unfair. “And now?”

“It would be unprofessional of me to start yelling at my place of work.”

“You want to yell at me?” His eyes twinkled with silent laughter. It was obvious he was holding it in.

You were glad he found this funny because you didn’t. No matter how much he’d impressed you as a father it still didn’t change yesterday. “You had no right just stealing my car like that.”

He scoffed. “It was hardly stealing. Who steals a car to pay for the damage he caused?”

“I didn’t want you to pay!”

He still looked baffled by your stubbornness. “That’s just absurd.”

“You’re calling me absurd?”

He sighed. “Of course not.” He was getting flustered now, similar to yesterday. It was funny to watch. “I just…” He trailed off, catching the grin on your face. “You’re enjoying this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I love a complete stranger backing out into my car to then subsequently steal it from right under my nose.”

He eyed you hesitantly. You knew he couldn’t tell if you were joking around or not. Your words and posture said no, but your eyes and lips gave it away eventually. “We’re still on this stealing business?” He paused, lips quirking. “Besides, I’m not a stranger. I’m your favourite student’s father.”

You laughed in disbelief. This man was so full of himself. “I’m a teacher, I don’t do favouritism.”

“Oh?” He seemed sceptical.

You shook your head, he really was unbelievable, but you couldn’t stop the smile that creeped its way to your mouth. “If that’s all, Mr. Kim.” You pointed to the door. It was getting late now, your car should be getting dropped off soon too.

He chuckled as he started to make his exit, you following closely behind. When he stopped abruptly, turning back, you weren’t expecting him to be so close. You could notice the beginnings of stubble growing above his top lip, a sure sign you were in too close a proximity.

“She likes you a lot.” He murmured, serious once again. You wished he’d stop doing that. Was he an obnoxious rich jerk, or a caring, hardworking father? You would have gone with the former right before this meeting, now you had no clue. Maybe you’d gotten him all wrong. That would teach you for judging a book by its cover…

“Arin,” he added, as if it wasn’t obvious. “She’s always speaking about you when I ask how her day went. You’re her favourite ever teacher.” He grinned then, laughing, amused by himself.

You groaned. “Stop trying to guilt me.” He laughed harder, throwing his head back. Was all that true? Arin talked about you? You were her favourite teacher? Or was he just making it up for reaction? You didn’t ask.

“Although, I will say it’s nice to put a face to the name now.” Maybe you didn’t need to ask. “Just wasn’t expecting it to be the woman whose car I drove into yesterday morning…”

No, neither were you.

“I really am sorry about that.”

He sounded nothing but sincere, you couldn’t not accept his apology, despite being still annoyed by what he had done afterwards. “You keep saying.” You gave an accepting sweep of your hand. “Let’s just forget about it, accidents happen, right?”

“Right.” He gave a quick nod of his head, followed by a shrug. “…aand I guess you were parked behind me so…”

You opened your mouth to refute such a claim but his laughter was so loud, so unlike his outer appearance, if that made any sense, (all high-pitched and squeaky almost), you were dazed for a moment, couldn’t help but join him – quietly so, but it was something. This man obviously thought he was hilarious.

He opened the door, hand resting on the handle as he spoke again. At this rate the janitor would appear for his shift and you’d still be here talking to Seokjin. “Listen, I can’t find anyone to pick up my car tonight so how about tomorrow? Is that okay for you? You can give me a call in the morning and we’ll arrange a time suitable.”

Oh yes, you’d forgotten all about that. Too distracted. By what? Him? “It’s fine. I can drop it off myself tomorrow.”

He raised that perfect eyebrow again. “You can?”

You gave him an affirmative hum. Why was that so surprising to him?

“How will you get home?”

Shoot. “Subway,” you thought quickly.

“Are you sure?” He looked even more surprised, was about to suggest something else it seemed, until you spoke again.

“Saves that kid wasting his weekend.”

“Kid?”

“Soobin.” No doubt he’d be the one to pick the vehicle up, being Seokjin’s personal assistant after all. You needed one of those. They could mark the children’s homework and plan your lessons…

“Oh. He really wouldn’t mind,” Seokjin reassured.

“Really?” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. Both of them actually, but they weren’t as devastatingly shaped as his. That reminded you, you needed to get them threaded again soon. “Poor boy was about to trek to the station yesterday before I offered him a ride.”

“You took him home? He didn’t tell me that.” Seokjin sounded surprised.

“I wasn’t going to let him walk after he went to all that trouble for me.”

He nodded in understanding. “You’re very kind.”

You felt a little panicky, unable to read his reaction very well. “He won’t get into trouble?” You couldn’t see why he would, but you never know.

“No,” Seokjin laughed. “Is that what you think of me?”

You shook your head. “Of course not, I was just…” You stopped, unsure what to say.

“I wonder what you do think of me,” he pondered, voice low, lips curled.

“I don’t think it really matters what I think of you.” You replied cryptically.

He liked that, chuckling softly. “Can’t a guy be curious?” You remained tight lipped. “My employees love working for me, for your information.” He added. Maybe as damage control, who knew.

You rolled your eyes for the second time this evening. “You’re very full of yourself, Mr. Kim.”

“Please, call me Seokjin,” he requested.

You nodded, but you still didn’t think you were at that type of pleasantry yet. You could think of him as Seokjin but to say it aloud felt wrong almost, you didn’t know him. Thinking about it, it wouldn’t really matter come tomorrow anyway.

You watched him pull out a small notebook and an expensive looking pen from his inner jacket pocket, holding the copies of Arin’s stories under his arm as he used the door for support to write his address down for you. Ripping out the page perfectly, he passed it to you with a smile. “Drop the car off around 3pm. I should be long done at the office by then.”

He was working on the weekend? He certainly was a busy man. Who looked after Arin while he wasn’t there? These curiosities you had couldn’t very well be asked, not unless you wanted to appear nosey and overstep the mark…

“Okay,” you replied. “Then we arrange repayment.”

“Repayment?” He looked bewildered. “You’re not paying me back.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” His tone was stern. You could be sterner, you were sure of it.

“I am.” You insisted, staring him down. “The mechanic informed me yesterday that you’d be charged separately because he had to wait an extra half hour.”

“Oh, that.” He shook a hand. “I knew that might happen because I was uncertain when you finished work. It’s really no bother.”

No bother? Was this man adamant to hear you raise your voice? “I’m paying you back.”

He feigned confusion, teasing you. “I don’t think you are.”

“I – Look, we’ll sort this out tomorrow.” You’d be here arguing until Monday otherwise.

He scoffed. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

You shot him glare. It was a warning. Tomorrow you’d let him have a piece of your mind if he continued to refuse. You didn’t think he took it seriously.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t just sit here and I say he wasn’t flirting with you.”

“He wasn’t.” You were adamant. Soojung had made you relay your whole conversation with Seokjin as soon as you’d let slip this evening’s revelation. You were regretting it now. You were trapped on this couch forced to listen to her insane claims. There was no way in hell that man had been flirting with you.

“You were definitely flirting back.”

You felt yourself flush, voice raising as you insisted that she was wrong. “As if.” She shot you a look that told you she didn’t believe a word. “He’s rich and arrogant.”

She laughed. “You say rich as if it’s a bad thing.”

It wasn’t a bad thing, it just wasn’t your thing, but if rich made him smug and think he could throw his money around when you’d explicitly stated you didn’t want him too, then yes, it was a bad thing.

“I wonder how loaded he really is…” Soojung thought aloud. “Millionaire status? He didn’t say where he worked?”

“Didn’t come up,” you replied shortly. You were done talking about him now. In your eyes it was nearly over. Your car was back in its rightful place on your driveway and Seokjin’s would soon follow in its rightful place – surrounded by a handful of others. You would never have to see that frustrating man ever again – hopefully.

“Find out tomorrow.”

“I am not finding out tomorrow,” you exclaimed. It wasn’t important. He worked in an office, nothing out of this world amazing. “I’m just going to drop off his car, write out a cheque and be on my merry little way.”

Soojung snorted. “Bitch, you’re going to be repaying him back a dollar a week.” You glared at her but she wasn’t fazed. “There’s no way you can afford it. He probably uses the most expensive mechanic in the city.”

“Shut up.” You didn’t care if you had to use your savings account. He was getting his money back one way or the other. You refused to be indebted to him. You were a little nervous though… “It can’t be that much. He only had to repaint some scratches,” you worried.

Your best friend ignored you, nestling in closer, an overjoyed grin on her face. “Tell me again, is he dishy?”

You sighed – loudly. Why couldn’t she let the topic drop? “I’ve already described him to you, and besides, that’s not the point.”

She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “So that’s a yes then. You’re into the Dilf!”

You didn’t bother replying, instead choosing to throw a cushion at her. She was unbelievable. But why did her teasing annoy you so much right now?

Saturday and Sunday’s always allowed you to sleep in, although 8am probably wasn’t what most called late. You liked to make the most of your weekends and today was no different. After breakfast you showered and got ready, putting aside an hour to go over the student reports for Monday instead of wasting your Sunday night instead. You and Soojung had made plans to go out for coffee late morning as it was rare to see her free on a Saturday. She worked hectic and last minute hours as a department store manager, but she’d finally bargained her first full weekend off in months.

Somehow your coffee turned into a little bit of a shopping spree, your credit card violently cursing you, but after the past few days you’d had you couldn’t find it in you to give a damn. You ate a late lunch at a one of your favourite cafés and then sadly, it was time to rush home and drop off Seokjin’s car back to him. You were very much dreading it – happy it would soon be over, don’t get you wrong, it was just the thought was making you all fidgety and nervous. Soojung wasn’t making it any better, she wouldn’t shut up about it, trying her best to get you give his address up. As if. You knew better than that. She’d be straight on her phone, google maps up in an instant.

You said a begrudging goodbye to her half 2, promising you’d call her straight away with all the details once you were done. She was spending the night at her boyfriend Taehyung’s house tonight but that still wouldn’t stop her innate need for gossip. Your phone acted as GPS on the way to Seokjin’s house, having no idea how to use the fancy one in his car. Not that any of it helped. His house seemed impossible to find. It did not take the predicted twenty minutes your phone told you. No, it was near forty by the time you finally found the concealed long road you’d driven past three times that led to it.

You came to a stop outside a pair of intimidatingly large gates and nearly choked when you saw his house. Well, you couldn’t really call it that. It was a mansion. Eight times the size of the house you and Soojung rented together, maybe more. He really was loaded. You just hadn’t realised how loaded until now. You felt a little sick as you spotted the intercom system on the wall, wondering if you could just ditch the car here and run as fast as your legs could carry you. Why had you not just let Seokjin arrange someone to pick it up from your house? Why were you always so stubborn?!

Taking a deep breath you got out of the vehicle and walked over to the intercom, feeling partial relief to find it didn’t have a camera attached. You would absolutely die of shame otherwise, hopelessly unphotogenic and camera shy. Your teacher’s ID card would forever haunt you.

It rang for a few moments before a woman picked up. “Hello, may I ask who it is?”

You weren’t expecting the female voice so you were stumped for a moment, stumbling over your words before you managed to settle on something helpful. “Hi, yes, this is Arin’s teacher, Miss. Y/L/N. I’m here to return the car Mr. Kim loaned me…”

“Hello, love” the woman greeted sweetly. “Drive up to the front of the house. I won’t be a moment.”

“Okay.” You were thankful she hung up first because you let out a shriek when the gates started automatically opening. You dreaded to think if there were security cameras near.

With a delay you got back into the car and started it up again, thoughts a little preoccupied now that it wasn’t Seokjin who’d picked up. You’d taken it he lived alone, not that he’d told you that. Maybe he had a new girlfriend, you were unsure how long he’d been divorced for. Although you didn’t recall Arin mentioning a woman’s name when she talked about her father. Not that you’d like to admit it, but you’d spent a generous portion of time last night while you waited for sleep trying to recall times when Arin had mentioned Seokjin. You didn’t know why, curiosity you guessed.

But anyway, if Seokjin in fact did have a new partner, then you also guessed Soojung’s theory was incorrect. He had not been flirting with you. Which wasn’t a surprise. It had been a long time since a guy had flirted with you… You were probably to blame there, but it didn’t particularly bother you. Your life was busy enough as it was, throw in a man and you’d hit your breaking point.

The woman who’d answered the call was waiting for you outside as you pulled up, older than her voice had made her seem. You stopped the car and got out, greeting her.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Arin’s Nanny, Misook.”

Oh. That made sense. You guessed your imagination had run wild with you for a few unexplainable moments. You felt almost embarrassed as you stood there awkwardly. Was she going to take the keys? Could you leave?

“Please come in.” She smiled kindly. “Seokjin won’t be long, he’s just showering, work ran late.”

Come in?! Oh no, no, no. That wasn’t part of the plan. It was drop the keys and run. However, like a fool, you were unable to say no, looking behind you at Seokjin’s vehicle. “Is the car okay here?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “He’ll place it in the garage later. Follow me.” She turned her back and started making her way inside.

You followed with heavy feet, not quite ready for this. Your first three encounters/dealings with Seokjin had been interesting to say the least. How would the fourth go? You felt a little rude entering your way inside his house (mansion) but Misook wouldn’t have invited you inside if it wasn’t okay, right? Maybe Seokjin wanted you here…

“Make yourself comfortable while you wait.” Misook said once you’d taken off your pumps and she’d led you to the room nearest the entryway. The living room? The lounge? The family room? You didn’t know what else to call it, descriptions too basic for this grand home.

Not that the décor and furniture were too elaborate. In fact, everything looked so homely and cosy inside. The couch was definitely leather but the throw draped over it and the cushions out of place made it look lived in. The colour scheme was minimalistic, walls cream, accents mostly teal blue and grey. Seokjin had style, or perhaps he’d hired an interior designer. You suddenly wondered what the rest of his home looked like.

“Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat? I’m just making Arin a snack.” Misook offered, but you immediately shook your head, not wanting to put her out.

“Oh, no thank you. I ate before I left.”

She nodded and left the room, leaving you to your own devices in a stranger’s house. The stranger who had hit your car and then proceeded to steal it from right under your nose. The stranger who had let you borrow his car and the stranger who was Arin’s dad. The world worked in mysterious ways. Or it was just mere coincidence, whatever.

You perched yourself on the end of the teal love seat nearest the large bay window, fluffing up the cushion behind you to at least look a little comfortable. You looked around the room casually, spotting a hardback book on the coffee table – The Rough Guide to the 100 Best Places on Earth. Did Seokjin like to travel? With a seemingly busy lifestyle and a child it seemed pretty impossible. Maybe he just liked to dream? Maybe he’d travelled in his younger days? Wait, why were you thinking about these things? You looked over to the impressive brick fireplace, the obvious focal point of the room; it was stunning. A chunk of waxed driftwood sat above it, acting as a shelf and in the middle of it was a photo of Arin and Seokjin in a silver frame. Both their faces filled the image, grinning widely and they really did look so alike. You found yourself smiling, jumping a little when you heard your name.

“Miss. Y/L/N!”

You followed the tiny excited voice, finding Arin in the doorway smiling shyly at you. She gave you a little wave.

“Hi, Arin,” you greeted.

That was all she needed to skip inside, sitting on the end of the couch closest to you. “Daddy told me you were coming today.” Well, at least she wasn’t surprised to find you in her living room. “He told me what he did. Silly daddy.”

You let out a polite laugh. “It’s okay, accidents happen, huh?” You couldn’t very well say your daddy was an idiot, could you? “How are you today, Arin?” You asked, changing the subject, finding yourself in teacher mode instantly. “Do you have any plans?”

“I’m okay,” she let out a comical sigh. “Daddy is taking me bowling.”

“That sounds like fun. Why are you sighing?”

“I was supposed to see my mom but she was too busy…” She answered rather dejectedly.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You tried to think of something to say to reassure that little sad face of hers. “I’m sure she’s just as disappointed.”

Arin gave a little shrug. “She’s always busy.”

In the two months you’d been her teacher you’d never seen her mood like this. Yes, for her first week in class she’d been quiet, but that was because of nerves, today she looked deflated. You found yourself struggling for something to say, which was unlike you, especially with all your training. It was your job to reassure children after all.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

Your head jerked up at the sound of Seokjin’s voice. There he was in the doorway, smiling your way. There was something different about him. What was it? Oh – his clothing. You noticed eventually. He was dressed incredibly casual today – normal. A beige coloured sweater and dark blue jeans. His hair wasn’t styled, flat to his forehead and still partly wet, his skin flushed from the heat of the shower. You still couldn’t place his age. You were sure he was older than you, but by how much was difficult to say.

“Mr. Kim, hi,” you greeted, standing up for some reason. You still couldn’t bring yourself to call him Seokjin unless it was in your own head.

He walked towards you, in slippers. You didn’t know why but the thought was so bizarre. You were being ridiculous. Of course he wore slippers, why wouldn’t he?

“Daddyyy,” Arin sung, running towards him and hugging his legs. She looked up at him, asking sweetly, “Are we ready to go?”

He chuckled, rubbing her hair. “Soon, sweetie. Go and find Misook in the kitchen so you can have your snack before we leave.”

She looked at him coyly. “Can we have pizza later?”

He laughed again and gave a small shrug. “Sure. As a weekend treat.”

You watched on, not realising there was a smile on you face. They were cute together. You noticed Arin peeking at you, then she looked up at her father again. “Is Miss Y/L/N coming too?”

Seokjin had the brazenness to look across at you, raising his eyebrows expectantly, as if it was your call. Was he insane? Not only was it implausible, it was downright unprofessional. You were Arin’s teacher. Yes, for just a few more weeks, but this interaction was already out of your comfort zone.

“Uh,” you started, feeling awkward. “No, sorry, Arin. I, um, I have plans today.”

You didn’t want to let her down, but luckily she didn’t seem to mind, giving you a roll of her shoulders and a cute smile. “Okay. See on you on Monday, Miss.” And off she skipped, out the door and to where you presumed was the direction of the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” Seokjin chuckled, stepping closer, as if he hadn’t pretty much invited you himself. What if you’d said yes? He’d have been okay with that?

You felt yourself begin to heat up at the close proximity. You had no idea why he made you feel like this, especially now. You’d handled it so well yesterday, but then again, maybe that was because there’d been a desk separating you. In a professional setting. Right now you were out of your comfort zone, out of your depth. In his home, in his living room, a mere few inches between you both. Why did you find it so intimidating? Why did you find him so intimidating?!

That face… That face with that infuriating smile, and those eyes that seemed to twinkle with amusement, as if there was a joke you weren’t aware of. Multiple jokes. What did he find so funny? Was it you? You felt instantly defensive. He probably used those good looks to unease people, to make them do as he wanted. Not you.

You took a step back, your legs brushing the love seat behind you, and reached for your purse, pulling out your cheque book. “So,” you began, hating the way your voice faintly shook. “Let’s settle. How much do I owe you?”

His smile instantly disappeared as he rolled his eyes slightly. You caught them and it made you want to fight. “You’re still on this.”

“Yes, I am,” you bristled “They washed my car too.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groaned. “It was part of the service.”

“Just tell me how much I owe you.” You were adamant.

“No.” So was he.

“Mr. Kim.”

“Seokjin,” he corrected, a small smug smile on his face.

“Tell me!”

He brought a hand to his temple, tapping the skin with his fingers as he let out a grunt. “You know what, I can’t seem to remember. It’s been a busy week, memory’s a little fuzzy.” The grin on his face told he was messing with you.

What an exasperating bastard. You didn’t swear often, but he’d just driven you to it. Any more and it was out loud. Maybe your face gave something away because he soon changed his tune, falling serious, like he could so magically do sometimes. “Look, it was my fault, so I paid.”

You wanted to scream. “What if I had an accident in your car? Would I have to pay the damage?”

Instantly he looked worried, those perfect eyebrows furrowing in alarm. “Have you? Are you okay?”

It looked like he was about to reach out a hand to comfort you, and you panicked, rushing into explanation, taken back by his concern. “No, I’m fine. I-I was just being hypothetical.” He looked confused. “By your logic, I would have to pay, right?”

“My logic,” he mused, chuckling softly. “I’m just doing the correct thing. But yes, I suppose you’d have to pay.” He gave a shrug, that annoying smile back on his face. “Good thing there were no accidents then.”

He was probably right. You weren’t that angry to prove a point. You’d probably have to take a lifetime loan to pay the damage off. You felt defeated. What more could you do? Write out a cheque for a guesstimated amount? Imagine the humiliation if you totally undervalued it. No, maybe you should just let it go. Bite your tongue and take this “gift” from a stranger. He had backed out into your car after all, regardless if you were hovering there, he just hadn’t been paying attention. He felt a guilt, a need to repair the damage caused so you’d just let him, even if it went against everything you believed in – your morals. He could obviously afford it and never miss the money.

So you let him win this one, let him walk you to the door before you were late for those important plans that may or may not involve being sat in front of the television all evening watching sitcom reruns on the comedy channel. (He didn’t know that of course.)

“Alice in Wonderland,” he said suddenly, just as you were coming to a halt by the grand wooden door. You turned to see him grinning and looked at him questioningly. What on earth was he on about? “A famous novel that uses that ‘it was all a dream’ trope you hate.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think someone may have been on google last night.”

He held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.”

You let yourself laugh, genuinely amused. You weren’t so nervy now, as comfortable in his presence as you were going to get. “Goodbye, Mr. Kim.”

He tutted. “If you call me that one more time I’ll be forced to take that cheque from you.”

Really? Interesting… “Mr –

“I take it back,” he interrupted quickly, realising his mistake. “But please, call me Seokjin. I get called too many formalities within the week, I hate it.”

You had to agree with that, you knew that feeling all too well. “Fine,” you gave in. “Goodbye, Seokjin.” There, you’d bitten the bullet. Calling him by his name aloud made you feel funny. “Thank you for… everything.”

He mulled over your gratitude, seemingly satisfied. “I’ll take that.” You ignored him and turned to leave. He stopped you, his hand touching your elbow and warmth spread throughout your body instantly. “Are you really taking the subway home?”

You nodded.

He looked dubious. “The nearest station is quite a walk from here.”

“How far?” Now you were too.

“Let me give you a ride there.” He offered. “I’m taking Arin downtown anyway. Her plans with her mom got changed last minute so I’m trying to cheer her up.” At the mention of his ex-wife his voice became tense, his expression darkening for a moment before he shook himself out of it, a smile back on his face. “So, what do you say?”

“Okay.” You agreed, smiling back. “You can drop me off.” In all honesty, you had no clue where you were going anyway, this part of the city unfamiliar to you. That, and your cell phone had only 20% battery life left after the palaver of trying to get yourself here. Driving you to the station wasn’t going to put him out so it was fine.

“Great. Oh, by the way,” he slipped in, as if he’d suddenly remembered something. Or maybe he was just trying to sound casual. “Are you ever going to tell me your name or do I have to live in mystery for the rest of my life?”

You grew surprised. Of course, he didn’t know your name. You’d never told him. Maybe subconsciously you’d imagined Soobin would’ve relayed that piece of information back to him, or maybe, and most likely, you’d never actually thought about it at all. No wonder you hadn’t realised. You felt almost rude.

“It’s only fair,” Seokjin said, mistaking your silence as indecision. “You know mine, and I can’t keep referring to you as Miss. Y/L/N. It’s a bit strange, don’t you think?”

That was interesting. When was he planning to refer to you again at all? Not that you needed to be persuaded. But you were being polite, that’s what you told yourself. You knew his name so like he’d said, it was only fair. There was no other reason, and of course the idea of him being curious about your name made you feel nothing whatsoever. Okay?

You gave him a quick smile, feeling a little coy for some reason. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, murmuring it softly as the mystery unveiled itself.

That was dangerous. Hearing the syllables roll from his tongue so gently sent a rush of heat through your body. It settled on your face, tingling, and you prayed it wasn’t visible.

What the hell was wrong with you?!

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin smut #bts smut #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

Hollow Pass (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader has to spend a day in the mines for work, she’s less than thrilled. When the miner showing her around for the day, Dean Winchester, is an ass, she’s even less thrilled. But an accident will change all of that and if they want a chance of getting out of the mess they’re in, they’ll need to put their lives in each others hands, literally...

Pairing: Miner!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, injury, frightening/claustrophobic/near death situations

A/N: Please enjoy the first of this 2 parter!

_______

You sighed as you stood in the trailer of the manager’s office, a jumpsuit and a pair of boots sat in a chair. Your boss, bless his heart, thought it was always a good idea for corporate positions to experience a day in the mines to truly understand the product and what the little guy went through on a day to day basis. The argument that you were not really corporate, not even close, seemed to go over his head.

“Y/N, you gonna change? I need my office back,” said the manager through the door. You pulled it open and pouted. “I don’t want you going down in the mines anymore than you do but if you want to make corporate, you gotta do what the CEO says.”

“Dad I don’t even want to work there. I like my simple office job.”

“Then why have you been in all those development programs at work?” he asked. You shrugged and he sighed. “Cause you can’t say no.”

“Do I have to?” you asked, looking back at the overalls.

“Do you want to quit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to lose a good paycheck. But I don’t want a corporate job either,” you said.

“Then you’re shit outta luck,” he said. “I’m gonna put you with the Winchester boy. He’s on safety checks in our most secure mines.”

“You mean the ones that never have problems.”

“Funny how that all coincidentally happened today of all days,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks dad.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere near explosives. You’ll be safe doing the checks with Dean for the day.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said twenty minutes later. The man in overalls and a hard hat rolled his eyes.

“I’m ten minutes late because of you which means I’m gonna get docked those ten minutes of pay so thank you little miss corporate.”

“I’m your boss’ daughter, jackass.”

“Still ain’t my boss,” he said. You huffed and headed over towards the mine entrance when he grabbed the back of your overalls. “No, dummy. You have zero safety gear so unless you want to die, you’re coming with me.”

“Asshole.”

“Dean Winchester at your service,” he said, dragging you over with him to some lockers. He punched a card and went to the storage racks, seemingly grabbing a few items and putting them on. He picked the hard hat off your head and grabbed one with a light and a wire attached to it, clipping it on your belt. He put something over your shoulder you put your arm through like a sling and clipped a mask onto the back of your belt, a flashlight and a small hand pickaxe going through your other loops. “Turn this lamp on anytime you’re in the mine and never, ever, take off your hat. If I yell at you or you smell something funny, get that mask on. Flashlight and the axe are backup for emergencies.”

He put a radio in your pocket and looked you over.

“Oh and for the love of God, do not wander off. I don’t care if you see a bug or break a nail or gotta piss.”

“What do you do if you have to…” you said.

“Normally you piss against some rock like a man but special manager’s daughter we’ll walk you back out here, take our slow ass time, make me go longer than my shift and because I was late today, I don’t get overtime.”

“That sounds kinda illegal.”

“The contracts for this company are a fucking nightmare,” he said, walking out of storage.

“Why work here then?” you asked as he went to an area and grabbed a clipboard. He took two water bottles and clipped them on each of your belts before whistling for you to follow after.

“Well somebody had to pay for his baby brother to go to law school and it wasn’t going to be my drunk of a father now was it,” said Dean, stopping and writing something down.

“So you didn’t grow up with mining in your family?” you asked.

“No. I’m not some redneck hillbilly like you imagine either,” he said. He flipped on his light and turned yours on when you got to the mine entrance. “Crouch.”

“Huh?”

“We ain’t riding the cart which is missing, dumbass. Crouch down so you can fit in the tunnel,” he said. You swallowed and had to bend down some, following Dean closely. “Ain’t claustrophobic are ya cause now’s the time to tell me.”

“No,” you said. “Jerk.”

“Ah, see? We’re getting along already.”

You walked for five or so minutes before the ground sloped down further and an entrance to the right opened up. Dean straightened up and you did the same, stretching out as he grabbed the back of your jumpsuit.

“Dude, would you stop doing that?” you said.

“Would you stay in my line of sight?”

“That’s harassment. You can’t touch me without my permission,” you said, crossing your arms. He blinked a few times and rolled his eyes quite possibly the most dramatically you’d ever seen in your life.

“This? This is not an office building. Every single time you step in here you run the risk of dying and you have zero clue on how to stay safe down here. I hate it when you people with your big offices and penny pinching bullshit come down here and complain about every goddamn little thing. If you want out, get out of the fucking mining business.”

“You’re an irritable person,” you said. He grumbled and tugged you along with him until you brushed him off. You followed him down a hallway and another, Dean checking things off on his clipboard as he went. “Are you gonna explain any of this stuff?”

“What do you think?” he said. He whistled and you followed him down a few more hallways when he stopped a gauge looking contraption. He checked a few different numbers and valves on it as you spun around.

“I guess it is kinda cool. That somehow you guys know how to block up rocks and leave all these cracks and know how to make it so it doesn’t all come crashing down.”

“Cracks?” he asked as he squatted down and read off a meter.

“Yeah like that big one,” you said, pointing at the wall across the way. He turned around and looked at it for barely a second before he grabbed your arm.

“Move. Now,” he said. He pulled out his radio and pressed down the button. “We have a grade five crack in Lodge Six West. Do not blow. I repeat do not-”

The ground rumbled and you heard a splintering noise, Dean pushing you back into the hallway you’d been in. He jumped on top of you and covered your body with his, all the lights going out, a loud thundering of falling rocks happening close by. It seemed to go on and on before it finally stilled, the hallway pitch black.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, coughing when you felt dust in the air.

“Don’t move,” he said. He lifted his head and there was some light, Dean looking around before climbing off of you and staring at a new wall of rock. He looked at the hallway you’d been in, clicking on his flashlight and you saw where the rock dropped off about a hundred feet away. “Well. Shit.”

“What just happened?”

“The rock was unstable and they already set off the charges and it shook the mountain so now there’s a giant hole over there and our exit is blocked.”

“What’s that way?” you asked, nodding down the only unobstructed hallway.

“Further down into the mine before you hit the decommissioned area.”

“Is there a way out,” you asked, Dean patting his side.

“Fuck. My radio is under all that,” he said. He took out yours and handed it to him, Dean nodding before he turned it on. “Main do you copy, over?”

There was silence on the other end and Dean hit the button again.

“Main this is Winchester in Lodge Six West with…what’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, manager’s kid. Copy, over.”

“Winchester this is Main. We got lots of calls coming in from ground crews about a shaking.”

“Lodge Six West Hall K is a giant crater of death and Hall H is buried, right up to the entrance of junction HJ.”

“Injuries?”

“We’re okay,” said Dean.

“Give me a second.”

Dean took a deep breath and coughed. He tapped your mask on your belt and you put it on, the air a bit easier to breath.

“Winchester this is Melvin.”

“She’s okay, boss. Just a little shook up. Saved our asses from winding up in the ground even if she doesn’t know it yet,” he said. He held out the radio and you pulled down the mask.

“Dad I’m fine, really. We both are. It’s just kinda dark and smelly is all.”

“I know. Put your mask on sweetie until you can get to some cleaner air,” he said. You put it back on, Dean, getting to his feet. He pulled you up and looked back at your blocked path.

“Any other collapses?” asked Dean.

“None reported so far. Everyone should be out of the mine’s or on their way. Alarm is blasting.” You looked back at Dean, his eyes shutting.

“Melvin we can’t hear it. At all.”

“Rodney’s out checking where our side of the collapse starts. We’ll get you out,” he said, someone panting in the background.

“Hall B, Mel,” he said. Dean turned away from you and sighed. No one said anything for a long time until Dean finally raised his head.

“We got two 16 ounces bottles of water. If she rations it, she’s got a shot,” said Dean quietly.

“No, she doesn’t,” said your dad, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “How long does your radio have?”

“Mine got crushed. Hers was on a quarter charge. I’d guess maybe an hour or two tops,” he said.

��Should we call your brother?”

“He’s hiking in Glacier Park this week. No cell service,” said Dean quietly. “Just tell him to check my bottom desk drawer. There’s something for him there.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Is there anyone...parents-”

“All due respect sir, I’d rather you talk to your daughter,” he said. Dean held out the radio to you and you picked it up, Dean skirting around the corner to the one unblocked hallway.

“Dean?” you asked, following over there. He was leaned against the wall and looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s going on?”

“They can’t dig us out in time.”

“What do you mean-”

“Talk to your dad. You’re wasting time. That battery won’t last forever,” he said. He turned back and you walked back around the corner, sitting down against the wall.

“Hi dad,” you said.

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom’s on her way down to talk, okay? She’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I so quit this job,” you said, wiping off your eyes with the back of your hand. He laughed and you threw your head back. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna stay on the line as long as I can, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

Two Hours Later

The battery in the radio had died about fifteen minutes ago. There was no sound aside from your sniffling and Dean’s down the hall. You got up eventually and went into the hall, sitting down beside him. You handed him the radio and he clipped it back on his belt.

“You okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“You try listening to someone say goodbye to their parents and not bawl,” he said. He wiped off his face and took a deep breath. “Air’s better now at least.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now,” he said, clipping his water bottle onto your belt. “You sit there and try not to exert a lot of energy and that water will last you a few days.”

“We both heard my father. They can’t drill or dig or do anything fast enough. It’d take weeks. I’m not sitting here next to your dead ass so take your damn water back,” you said, shoving it back in his chest. He didn’t speak but put it on his belt, pulling his knees into his chest. “Why were you so mean to me before? You gave up time on the phone for me. I don’t think you’re what you pretend to be.”

“I’m a dead man walking and that’s a fact.”

“Technically you’re sitting.”

He smiled and rested his face in his knees. He sat up and reached over behind you, hitting off your headlight.

“We need to conserve power as long as possible,” he said.

“Will our lights go out before we dehydrate to death?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “This is what it’ll be like.”

He flipped off his lamp and you swore you’d never experienced a darkness so deep. You felt his hand graze yours before holding it and you swallowed.

“Kinda less scary knowing you can turn it back on again,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why such a brute?”

“You do this job long enough and most people think you’re a dumb sack of shit with nothing in his head. You’re dead weight, odds are you’ll die down here or get into some kind of accident and have to go on disability the rest of your life. You corporate people are always so stuck up, like I’m not even good enough to be the dirt on your shoes. I didn’t give you a chance because odds were you were like all the rest of them. You’re the only reason we didn’t die in that hole, very painfully.”

“Wouldn’t we have-”

“No. It’s not a simple hole we would have fell in. Falling rocks, crushing and hitting, landing on you, ones you hit yourself. Might not kill you immediately. You’d feel it.”

“Dying of thirst is better?”

“I’d say so. Still get to keep this handsome face, or what’ll be left of it,” he said. He flipped his light back on and you scooted closer. “I think you’re very attractive.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m gonna die in like three or four days. Life has no consequences now and I happen to find you very attractive and you seem like a smart, sweet woman that put her parents a little at ease during the worst moment of their lives.”

“Who’s your brother?” you asked. “No consequences after all.”

“He’s a lawyer...and my best friend.”

“You said you did this job for him.”

“Student debt is a bitch. I try to help him out and the overtime helps make dents in it,” he said. “Our parents had debt out their asses. It caused so many problems for us. I wanted him safe, never have to worry about the next meal on the plate or the roof over his head or having to wear my hand me downs ever again. At least he’ll get my life insurance policy. That should help.”

“I have been busting my ass since I was a college freshman in that office to move up the chain for a job I didn’t even want. I completely lost nearly all of my twenties to work. All so I could die in here.”

“Well I know this doesn't sound good but I’m glad I didn’t die all super painful. Or that I’ll be alone,” he said. You smiled and nodded, Dean returning it. “Got any bucket list shit we can pull off down here?”

“We could make out,” you said. “Never knew anyone could make that jumpsuit look good.”

“Why the fuck not,” he chuckled. He leaned in close and your helmets bonked, Dean pulling his off and yours, quickly cupping your face.

His lips were gentler than you thought, the two of you stopping when your lips were pressed together. You rested your forehead against his and broke off only an inch.

“Not as much fun at the moment as it sounded,” you breathed out.

“Pretty good last kiss though,” he said. You put your helmets back on and you grabbed his hand again.

“Don’t let go down here. Please.”

He reached to his belt and undid a little pouch, pulling out a small tether of rope. He clipped one end onto him and the other to you.

“For when the lights go out,” he said.

“How long do we got?”

“About a day, maybe a little more,” he said. You sighed and turned your head, staring down the rest of the hall. “It’s decommissioned, Y/N. It’s a death trap.”

“Is there a way out?” you asked.

“Maybe. Maybe they never find us though,” he said. You stared at him and he nodded, hitting your headlamp back on. “Enough of the pity party. Let’s go get out of here or die trying.”

He stood and held out a hand, hoisting you to your feet.

“So. What’s our best option?” you asked.

“It’s alright for a bit until we get to the decommissioned section. When we get there, that’s when it gets dangerous. Technically it’s dangerous now considering the blast but we’re okay for a bit,” he said.

“Let’s go then,” you said. He nodded and you followed him down the hall, walking side by side.

“Alright so the decommissioned section is called Hollow Pass. Beyond that is Upper Seven. If we can get to Upper Seven, we can get out the old entrance I’m pretty sure. Never been in there but hopefully it’s not a maze over there.”

“So Hollow Pass is the hard part.”

“Yeah.”

“Why was it decommissioned?”

“Unstable ground. Holes, pockets of air, rotted support beams, wood planks.”

“So it’s a death trap.”

“Yup,” he said. “We’re probably gonna die down there.”

“What do you think our odds are?”

“Well it’s been out of order for over fifty years, we have no map, I have no real idea where exactly to go...I give us 1% odds.”

“Beats are 0% odds here.”

“Good way to think about it considering we’re going to most likely die.” He stopped walking and took a deep breath. “If I fall or whatever, follow the widest hall possible and keep away from wood and cracks as best as possible. Ration your water and eventually you’ll find your way out.”

“If you fall I’m definitely not gonna make it.”

“Well at least try. You can tell my brother how devastatingly brave I was that way.”

“You just spent the past hour crying.”

“So did you,” he said. You bumped his shoulder and he returned it but it was playful and soft. You walked together quietly for a moment until Dean rounded a corner and took a deep breath.

There were a few planks across a hallway, Dean kicking them down, frowning when they broke pretty easily.

“There’s gonna be rot.”

“Lovely.”

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “You don’t have to. There’s a chance-“

“There’s no chance Dean. Not if we stay up there. If you don’t want to go, I will. Maybe I can get help back in-“

“We’re doing this together or you’re staying. I can go and you-“

“We both go,” you said.

“I go first. You step where I step and if I tell you to do anything, you do it.”

“Dean. We already established that you’re not a hardass. You can lead the way but you know, nicely.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. He gave more slack in the rope attached to the two of you and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He was calm for a few minutes until you were turning down a hallway, Dean suddenly stopping in front of you.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Look,” he said. You poked your head around him, swallowing at the rotted wood on the ground, holes worn into the planking. “Y/N that’s not good. Rot means there’s water and water means erosion and erosion means big shafts hundreds of feet straight down under those wood planks.”

“How much of it is wood?” you asked. You both looked ahead and sighed, the whole hall flooring covered in wood. “Shit.”

“Y/N. This is too dangerous. I’ve worked in mines since I was 18 and it’s way too dangerous.”

“Dean. I don’t want to die. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead in three days, maybe less.”

“Maybe they come up the decommissioned mine and get us,” he said.

“Dean. The mountain collapsed from what my dad said. They are not coming in here, risking even more lives, in this mine. It might even have collapsed on the other side on the way out. We don’t know. All we do know is we stay and we’re dead or we go and we’re maybe dead.”

“You still won’t let me go on ahead on my own to try to get some help?”

“You’re not leaving me alone,” you said. You stepped ahead and he yanked on the rope, pulling you back. “Dean. Stop.”

“I go first,” he said. You held up your hands and he swallowed, Dean stepping past you, carefully putting his weight down on each plank. “Follow. Every footstep exactly where mine go.”

You followed after, the only sounds your breathing and the occasional board creaking. Dean put a foot down and stopped moving forward when you heard snapping.

“Go back. Slowly.”

You stepped a foot backwards, putting weight on it and your foot going straight through. Dean grabbed your arm as you pulled your foot up, a few sticks falling into a deep dark pit.

“What do we do,” you breathed out.

“Well we’re over rock that fell away so there’s a big hole beneath us if the rotted wood is anything to go by,” he said. You heard the slight waiver in his voice and sighed. “We make a choice. Forwards or backwards.”

“Back looks bad. Plus we already probably broke the supports.”

“I think solid ground is in front. But I have to jump for it,” he said. You looked past him and shook your head.

“Dean, it's way too far. I can try to walk over there if you let out the rope. I get to solid ground and then you walk and if you fall, I got you with the rope.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no way.”

“You’re too heavy and we can’t stay here,” you said. You slipped past him and he tried to grab you but you went quickly. “Dean let out the rope. Now.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna die.”

“No we’re not,” you said, walking quickly, planks creaking but you sighed when you had solid rock under your feet again. “Alright. Just go where I did and fast.”

He took a deep breath and walked a few steps, a loud groaning of the wood making him move faster.

You hit the ground the second you saw him go down, the wood breaking away. Dean shouted and you dug your heels into the dirt.

“Y/N!” he said, falling straight down into a hole and out of view.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn #miner!dean #au #dean x you #Dean Winchester one shot

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simsadventures · 4 years ago

Text

Gilded: Chapter 3: Power Over Me

Mobster!Steve x Reader

Summary: What more can you do than have a rad bachelorette party and then move to a house full of mobsters. It all sounds fun, right? Well, not according to your experience.

Warnings: mobster AU, drinking, swearing, surveillance, angst, smidge of fluff, violence, mention of bruises, fear

Word Count: 5737

A/N: A little late, I know I know, but I wanted to make sure the chapter was exactly how I wanted it. I keep thinking I will get to the wedding, and then some situations occur and I know I have to concentrate on them a little more. Than being said, I think we will finally see the wedding next! What do you think of this part? Did you like it? Is the reader a little less annoying? Let me know xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

The scene was supposed to be joyous, but, for some reason, the majority of what you felt was filled with sadness. Not for any particular reason, it was just the weigh of your decision finally settling in your heart and the realization hitting you that you would indeed be getting married in a week to a total stranger, who was a mobster, none less.

You chose it, you had to remind yourself as tears fought their way in your eyes. It was just momentary sadness overpowering you, the feeling that your wedding wouldn’t be filled with people loving and caring for you, that the day would be more about showing off Steve’s power over the world than showing his love for his new bride, for whom he had none. And you would be there almost alone: no parents, no extended family, and a very few close friends. Whom you loved dearly, of course, and without whom you wouldn’t even be considering taking such a step. You needed them there, and not just the two lovable idiots you lived with.

It was also people you’ve come to love during your university years as well as some coworkers, like Christy and Anja. Together it made around 15 people, which was actually a lot more than you had anticipated, but still. It would have to be Aidan walking you down the aisle, and just the mere thought made a choked sob escape your lips.

The sound brought the attention of the room to you, and before you knew it, you were enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from all the people there, everyone telling you that you should be happy, that this was a good thing. Of course, nobody except Caroline and Aidan knew the reality behind the wedding. All they thought was happening was that you fell madly in love with Steve Rogers, and now you two were tying the knot. You even overhead Aisha say that you were definitely pregnant, otherwise, you wouldn’t have rushed into it like this. You tried to assure everyone that there was no pregnancy at all, but, of course, people believed what they wanted, and you lacked the energy to go around the room and speak to them individually, denying what they formed in their heads.

It was Friday night, and you were in your apartment, surrounded by all those people who would come to your wedding. You sent a list of names to Steve that afternoon, and, after what you assumed was a background check on all of them, he agreed that yes, these 15 people could actually come. And when he did, you called an emergency meeting at your apartment, using it both as a way of inviting them to the wedding and as a kind of bachelorette party, where all you wanted to do was to drink heavily, eat a disgusting amount of carbs and pass out around dusk. Safe to say, all of your friends had been in, and by the time it was 11 PM, you were all tipsy, and people started to dance. Some (ehm, ehm, Caroline) even on a table, which was hilarious to the rest of you.

The sadness came and went all evening, but you were determined not to let it ruin your night. So, every time you felt like it was creeping up on you again, you just told somebody and let them hug you until you were feeling better.

Then, somebody came up with the idea to play Never Have I Ever, and since the tequila still burned in your veins, you agreed immediately. And so the game started. You were roaring like a pride of lions, each answer louder than the previous ones, but the most fun arose from telling each other funny stories.

“Ok, so this one time I was blowing off my boyfriend, right? And you know how much I hate the taste of sperm, and he knows it as well, but this one time he really insisted on my swallowing, and so when he finally came, I squeaked and pointed somewhere behind him so that I could spit the cum to glass under the table, and when he turned around I showed him my mouth, void of any liquid, and he looked super proud,” your friend Naila laughed as she told the story to the question: never have I ever swallowed cum.

The night was flowing smoothly, and soon, you saw that it was getting somehow lighter outside. And, sure enough, when you looked out of the window, you saw that the sunrise was coming in mere minutes.

“Guys, guys! The sunrise is here. Let’s go to the roof to enjoy it,” you yelled even though half of the people were already fast asleep. The few of you who were still barely alive, which was around 5 of you, staggered towards the door and crawled up the stairs to the highest levels, and when you opened the last door, you had New York underneath you.

You were wasted and exhausted, but the sight poured new life into you as you watched the early orange rays shine on one building at a time, waking up the city that never slept. It was magical, and it took your breath away. You felt your worries melting away as you saw a new day coming, and you thought it was a new day with many possibilities and hopes for you. You had nothing to lose, and Steve proved to you that he would, indeed, take care of you if need be. All would be if you just played your part and learned enough about Steve to be able to escape his wrath.

The exhaustion then hit your body just as the ray hit your face, and you waved at the drunk group watching the sunrise, each of them in their own realm of thoughts, and soon enough, you sauntered back to your room, where you fell asleep just like the rest of the bachelorette party.

A piercing tone woke you up with a start, and, for a second, you didn’t even know where you were, what time it was, or even what fucking century it was. The throbbing in your head prevented your brain from functioning properly, and so you rummaged through the pile of clothes next to your bed, fishing for what was obviously your phone. Gosh, how you hated the ringtone, and you reminded yourself to just mute your phone altogether because then nothing like this could happen again.

You picked up without so much as looking at the screen and just sneered a harsh what into the speaker.

“Well, good morning to you too, honey,” you heard Steve’s smug voice and rolled your eyes so hard the pain in your head increased. “Is this the way to greet your future husband? I don’t fucking think so,” he continued, and a considerable part of you contemplated just hanging up on him and his annoyingly sexy voice.

“Steve, I have no fucking idea what time it is, but it’s definitely not time for you to call me and want me to be nice. Give me a few good hours of sleep, and then we can talk, ok?” You hoped this would do it, but from the silence on the other side, you assumed he wouldn’t let be just yet.

“What happened? Did your bachelorette party get a little out of hand, and you went to sleep only after sunrise?”

You gasped, shocked how he knew any of it, and for the first time, the fog in front of your brain lifted a little bit. You checked the time, and seeing it was only 9 AM, you assumed that asshole woke you up on purpose if he knew so much about your nightly activities.

“How the fuck-“

“Language!” He yelled suddenly, and you flinched at the intensity of his voice. “I know everything, and I told you I would have somebody keeping an eye on you at all times. You’re only lucky the guy sleeping next to you is gay, you’d be in so much trouble otherwise, honey,” Steve spat, and the only sound you could muster was a long huff, as you regretted ever being born.

“What do you want, Steve? If you know so much, you must know that I’m beat and all I wanna do is sleep, with a guy in my bed or without him. So, if you have something to tell me, please do, otherwise, have a good day, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun together, you and I, Y/N. I’m calling because I wanted to let you know that your room is prepared and ready for you and that your bodyguard will pick you up at exactly 8 PM, so don’t be late. Clint will also help you carry all things you need. I’ll send you his number so that you can be in touch with him. Oh, and honey? Take some aspirin and go to sleep, you sound like you need it,” even through the phone, you could hear him smirk as he hung up and let you on your own once again. Thank God.

“Who was it?” Aidan asked sleepily from the other side of the bed, and you just grumbled some response, not really sure if he understood what you meant, but when he hummed and patted your outstretched hand, you took it as yes, I understand you mean your future husband Steve Rogers, nice talk.

The phone signalled you received a text, and when you looked at it, it was your bodyguard’s phone number and a directive, telling you to go to sleep already, because the dark circles under your eyes didn’t suit you.

Oh, how you wanted to kill this man already. He got on your nerves more easily than anybody ever before, and for a brief moment, you wondered why he affected you so. You didn’t even know him, and you shouldn’t let him tossing you back and forth, but here you were, pissed because you could just imagine how proud he was of himself that he woke you up and told you what to do so many times in such a short call.

Sighing, you got up from the bed and went to check the window to see if you could spot the nosy bodyguard ratting on you to Steve. You needed to have a word with him because he just couldn’t go running to Steve every time you blinked.

Looking around the street, you tried to spot a strange vehicle, one that didn’t fit into the street you grew to know so well. And, sure enough, there was a large SUV, much like the one you had driven with Steve before, and you noticed that the windows were tilted. Since your apartment was on the first floor, anybody from the street had a great view right into your flat, and because you passed out totally exhausted, you didn’t have the time, nor did you remember to shut your blinds.

You huffed and shut them now, cursing Steve and his nosiness because he wasn’t making your life any easier, and you weren’t even married yet. The year in front of you would be annoying and difficult, but maybe it would make you feel alive again.

Shaking your head, you didn’t let the memories flood your brain as you strode back to your back, plopped on it belly-first and fell straight asleep.

“Are you sure it’s everything?” Aidan looked around your now half-empty room, except for the furniture that you knew you wouldn’t need. Steve promised to give you a furnished room, and you took his word for it, so you just took the essentials, like your clothes and sentimental stuff. Marie Condo would have been proud because you still managed to get rid of a few things that didn’t spark joy!

“Yeah, and even if I left something here, I could still come, you know? It’s not like I’m never seeing you or this place again. I’ll still be like a 30-minute ride away,” you smiled soothingly at him, but he just shook his head, obviously fighting all the emotions swirling in his heart.

“Alright, alright. No crying. I’ll call you guys when I’m all settled, and Steve actually lets me be by myself, and I’ll show you the room, ok?”

Both Aiden and Caroline nodded speechlessly and then pulled you in a group hug.

“You sure you wanna do it? We can still make it seem like we kidnapped you and take you somewhere to Mexico, or Argentina, or wherever he wouldn’t find you,” Caroline whispered, and you laughed through the tears fighting their way out of your eyes.

“I’ll be fine, you’ll see. We will all have so much fun, and before we know it, the year is over, and I’m back here with you guys, having lived a little,” you smirked, and they nodded reassuringly, not really sure if it really was the best way to live a life, but they didn’t want to push you again. Your heart was set, and they both knew there was nothing they could do now. Except, of course, really kidnapping you.

“Miss Y/L/N, we should go. The boss said we should be there at 9 PM at the latest, and I would prefer if we could be a little early,” Clint said professionally, but you could see that he was afraid of what would Steve do had you arrived late. You didn’t want to start this weird-ass journey by pissing your future husband or making him hurt his employees (you didn’t know whether he would actually do that, but just to be on the safe side, since he did cut off a guy’s finger a mere few days ago).

You nodded and stepped from your best friends, looking at them and smiling brightly. You didn’t want any teary goodbyes, so you just showed them thumbs up and followed Clint out of the door. You knew there would be some tears when you left but didn’t think they would come as early as on the first step from your apartment.

Fortunately, there weren’t that many steps to go before you were out of the building and rushed into the SUV by Clint. It was dark already, but you didn’t want him to see you cry, so you swiftly pulled out your sunglasses and put them on, not saying a word to Clint as he started the car and pulled it into New York’s night traffic. The lights around you were almost blinding, and for a moment, you were glad you had the glasses on, but then another wave of regret and sadness hit you, and you had a hard time keeping in the sobs. Scratching your arms, you stared out of the window and took a few calming breaths, telling yourself to get a grip because you were about to enter the lion’s den, and you couldn’t show them any emotions.

You knew Clint knew what was going on, but he was gentleman enough not to comment on it. Still, you needed to make sure he understood this little episode was just between the two of you.

“Can I ask you something, Clint?” You said suddenly and saw his eyes flickering between the road and the mirror, meeting your eyes for a moment.

“Of course, Miss Y/L/N. However, I should warn you, I am not allowed to give you certain information,” he said formally, and you nodded knowingly.

“Yeah, right. If I asked you to keep a little secret from your boss, would you keep it?” You asked and nibbled on your lower lip anxiously.

He seemed to have thought for a second before he nodded his head in a manner telling you that there were things Steve didn’t need to know. His eyes met yours again before he spoke up.

“I’m now your bodyguard, and if I think the information kept from the boss is in your best interest, then I won’t tell him anything. For example, you smiled all the way to the apartment, no tears and no sunglasses. Though, I think you should powder your nose and dry your face,” he smirked, and you laughed a little, nodding gratefully and doing exactly as he said.

The car stopped exactly as you put all the supplies back into your purse, and you had a feeling Clint took a longer route to Steve’s house just to give your face the time to dry up and calm down. Checking the time, you saw it was 10 minutes before 9 and saw the relief on Clint’s face when he realized the same thing.

“Alright, I will take you to the boss and then will get the boys to help with your things. We won’t go through anything, but if you need our help when you’re unpacking, all you have to do is text me,” Clint said, walking you to the door.

The man you met on your first night there was standing as a sculpture at the exact same spot, and you wondered if he ever moved from that hallway. He did move towards you, gesturing to your purse, but Clint’s hand stopped him mid-motion.

“She’s clean. I’ve been with her the whole time,” he said sternly and with authority, and when he saw the first man taking a breath to protest, Clint just gave him a chilling frown, and the man stepped down, hung his head in defeat and let you through.

“It’s not a problem, Clint; I could have shown him the purse, you know?” You almost whispered as you walked through the empty rooms and hallways with Clint by your side.

“They need to learn to respect you, Miss. You are, after all, marrying the boss very soon, and they need to understand that you are not a threat,” he gave you a curt nod, and you blushed a little. You didn’t know what it was, but the way Clint spoke to you with so much trust and respect already made you feel much better. You knew it would be an issue, so having somebody on your side was a huge relief already.

“Thank you, Clint, I really-“

“Well, happy you two are best buddies already! Are you gonna braid each other’s hair and do each other’s nails soon too?” A voice snapped you back to reality, a voice you already knew too well. Steve was leaning against a door, his face stoic despite the mocking tone of his voice. Clint obviously tensed next to you, mumbled some apology and scurried out of the room, leaving you with Steve.

You just looked at him and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Do you need to be like this?” You asked incredulously, not really understanding why he had to be such an ass when all you did was having some sort of conversation with one of his loyal men.

“Like what, honey? You seem to forget who I am and what I can do to you and your fucking life,” he sneered when he finally pulled away from the door and marched right in front of you.

Your arms fell from your chest as you stared at him, trying to figure him out. Which, considering he was a prolific mobster, wasn’t the easiest task at hand. But you tried nevertheless and poked to see where was all this coming from. He obviously needed to be in control of every situation, always the centre of attention, and, you realized, it was probably this that pissed him off. You walked in, not really paying attention to him standing by the door but carelessly talking to somebody else. But his attitude was another thing entirely.

“What do you want me to say, Steve? That I’m sorry I talked to somebody else and that it won’t happen again? You know it probably will, especially since you assigned Clint with the task of taking care of me and making sure I survive this year with you, which is really all he had done in the 40 minutes I have known him,” you reasoned, trying to sound confident but not pushy. You needed to show him that he couldn’t just toss you around like he might have thought. You didn’t expect him changing his attitude altogether for you, but you, at least, hoped he would go easy on you.

He was seething but also thinking; you could see his mind going in overdrive to come up with something snarky and mean. But you were quicker than him, once again.

“Will you be so kind and show me to my room? I would like to get settled in before we start talking about the wedding.”

“There will be no talk of a wedding. All you have to take care of is go tomorrow and pick your fucking dress. Everything else is being dealt with. I won’t need you tonight, so you can go and be by yourself till tomorrow,” he snapped and walked away without saying another word.

Great, now you felt like you were grounded, and all you did was talking with somebody nice to you. You shook your head disapprovingly and headed in a direction you thought might have been your room, but after taking a few turns, you weren’t even sure you were in New York anymore.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing here?” You heard from behind you, and before you knew what was happening, somebody pushed you forcibly against the nearest wall, pressing their elbow into your neck. You coughed, surprised, clawing at the man’s forearms and trying to let him loosen the press because it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” He yelled into your face, and you tried to tell him, but your voice wouldn’t come out. So, you just stared at him, tears filling your eyes before you heard a loud hey from somewhere behind you two and saw a man with long brown hair running towards you.

“Sarge, this woman was roaming around here. I think she is a spy,” the man still holding you said to the newly arrived guy, and all you could do was shake your head and tried to make yourself look as non-threatening as possible. Which wasn’t difficult considering you were in no position to be able to even defend yourself had the man decided to crush your trachea.

“Fucking idiot! That’s the boss’ bride! Let her go, you dickhead,” the man, sarge, growled, and you felt the pressure leaving your body. Which was all it took for you to collapse on the floor and start coughing uncontrollably, gripping your neck in your hands to protect it from any further disturbance.

“I-I, I didn’t know, Sarge! Don’t tell him. I thought she was some fucking spy. What the hell was she even doing here all alone, huh? It’s not my fucking fault she came sniffing around stuff that is none of her business,” the man tried to defend himself, but from the murderous gaze he received from the sergeant, he wasn’t very successful.

“Are you ok, Miss? Did he break anything? Is your head spinning? Are you feeling nauseous? Any of this?” He crouched down to your level and extended an arm to you, and you flinched instinctively, not feeling too sure who was your friend here and who wasn’t. So, to play it safe, nobody was your friend, and you’d be scared of them all, forever. Easy business.

The man saw your reaction and frowned even more but was persistent when he removed your hands from your neck to see an already-forming bruise alongside your throat.

“You need to talk to me, Y/N. Are you hurting anywhere?”

You coughed and grimaced because, yes, in fact, you did hurt and that all over the fucking neck and even your head. Which, given the man almost crushed your fucking throat with his elbow, wasn’t that surprising.

“I’ll be fine. And I wasn’t sniffing around; I was just looking for my room. I thought it might be somewhere here, and I would have asked if I saw anyone. But this place is like a fucking maze, and I was all alone,” you screeched, and the sergeant nodded and helped you to stand up. He was pulling out what looked like a phone, but you stopped him.

“Don’t call him, please. I’m fine. I just need to get to the room, so I can put some cold water on it, have a drink and go to sleep. Please,” you accentuated and saw the man weighing his options before he put the phone back to his pocket and nodded for you to follow him.

“I will tell him, just so you know. Steve needs to know about this, and we need to make sure you are introduced to the whole house the first thing in the morning so that this doesn’t happen again. But he needs to know. I will give you a few minutes to take it all in before I do call him, though,” he said with a resolution in his voice, and while you wanted to protest, you saw that it would have been to no avail. So, not saying another word, you let yourself in what was supposed to be your room and took it all in.

The walls were this very soft grey, which you actually preferred to the cold white you saw a lot all over the house. There was a king-sized bed against the main wall, framed with two bed-side tables and two matching white and gold lamps. There were many pillows on the bed and a plaid, grey and blue, throw as well, making it all feel very homey. You could see a large closet, where you could have easily fit ten times the amount of clothes you owned. The only other thing in the room was a table with a chair and some drawers, where you could picture yourself working and writing.

However, when you turned around, you saw something that caught your attention. An easel with a little table on wheels, on top of which was a palette where you could see yourself mixing colors left and right. You squealed, but the sound reminded you that you have just been assaulted and that you could admire the room later.

You took your time in the bathroom, inspecting your neck and hissing here and there when you touched it carefully. You knew the sarge was outside your door, probably counting in his head before he called Steve, and you were actually pretty surprised he wasn’t marching in already. Just when you thought of it, the door to your room flew open, and you heard Steve and the man talking (well, actually, more like yelling at each other).

“Where the fuck is she? I’m going to kill Drax. I swear to fucking God, man. How is it even possible that he does shit like this? They were all supposed to be briefed, for fuck’s sake. Imma have Sam’s ass as well for this. Fuck!” He yelled and kicked into something, which made you frowned, and you rushed out of the bathroom.

Steve spun around and almost ran towards you, cradling your face in his hands carefully and lifting your head so that he could have a clear view of the injuries. He was swearing under his breath, but you couldn’t help it and stare at him, wide-eyed. He was actually careful with you, sweet even as he took it all in, and when he was sure you wouldn’t die right there, he took a step back from you.

“Are you ok?” He asked after a moment, and all you could was just nod and stand there awkwardly, scratching your arms behind your back.

“Will you be able to find your room easier next time?”

“No, we took too many turns. But I won’t leave this room till morning anyway, and I will learn to stay out of the way very quickly, I promise,” you rushed to say, not really wanting to meet any of his crew alone again.

“You can’t be scared walking around here, honey. I will show you around right now, and I have already called an emergency meeting, and I want you there. This can never happen again,” he said gravely, and you understood this was probably his way of apologizing for something that wasn’t really all his fault. Well, he didn’t have to storm off and leave you there, nor did he have to scare Clint away, who was ready to show you to your room in the first place.

“Is it necessary, Steve? If I’m quite honest, I don’t feel too comfortable leaving the room right now,” you quipped, but Steve wasn’t listening anymore. He just grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door. Weirdly, you felt a little better having the skin-on-skin contact with him because, at least now, nobody would be stupid enough to attack you.

You tried to remember the way and took in the details that would make you not lose your trail again, such as the red vase on one of the tables in the corner that looked just like the corner two minutes ago, but the vase was something you could remember, so you took a mental note of that and other little things that would serve for your safety, obviously. Because when Steve told you people would want you dead, you sort of didn’t expect those people would be in the house with you.

You walked through the spacious kitchen and the adjacent dining room to find yourself in what looked like a meeting room, with around 20 men gathered and scattered all over the room.

When Steve finally stopped, he let go of your hand, but he instinctively reached for you and pulled you against his side. You looked at him in slight disbelief again but didn’t say anything as he stared in front of himself till the room was as quiet as a freaking church during a sermon.

“Let me make this very quick: however lays as much as a fucking finger on Y/N here, I will kill you, and I won’t give a fuck who you are. You were briefed that I’m getting married to the woman I want, and because somebody wasn’t paying attention to the fucking briefing, evidently, my fiancé is now sporting a black neck, which she will have to cover for our wedding. Drax, you and I will speak tomorrow, I was ready to kill you, but I’m a reasonable man, so I will sleep and think of your punishment then. Now, any questions?” He asked threateningly, and you knew even if somebody did have a question, nobody would dare to ask it now.

And just as you predicted, the room was as quiet as before, and Steve waved his hand so that everybody was dismissed and they could breathe again. Just not in his presence.

“Sam, you stay here,” Steve added when he saw one of his closest men leaving the room as well.

“I will deal with him, Steve. I don’t know how that could have happened, but it won’t ever again, I promise. If it does, you can have my head, man,” the bulky man said and smiled warmly at you.

“By the way, hi, I’m Sam. I’m like the muscles here, you know? So, if you need to pick something up, I’m your guy,” he said with a wink, and you chuckled but took his hand to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Sam, and I will remember that, thank you.”

“Alright, now, we have all the pleasantries behind us, you can go back to your room and go to sleep. And Y/N, if anybody as much as looks at you the wrong way, you tell me, ok? This marriage might not be a genuine one, but none of these assholes knows that or should care about that. They should protect you just like they protect me, and I don’t care what they say. I can’t have my fucking wife scared to walk these halls,” he was still frowning as he was saying all this to you, but you could see he was much more relaxed than when all the men were in the room. These two, the sergeant whose name you still didn’t know, and Sam, were obviously close to Steve because despite the winks Sam gave to you, Steve didn’t make a scene, nor did he give you the pointed looks when others were around. Still, you were on thin ice, and there was too much drama for one day for you to try and challenge him in any way.

“Ay ay, Captain,” you chuckled, and the corner of Steve’s mouth actually moved a little, so you took that as a good sign.

“Alright, I will try and get back to my room and call it a day because tomorrow is an important day! So, nice to meet you, gentlemen, and I will see you soon, I guess,” you waved at them awkwardly, and Sam waved back enthusiastically as you left the men to themselves.

“She is actually quite nice,” Sam summarized, and winked at Bucky, who just rolled his eyes at him in annoyance, having just enough of Sam’s antics for one day.

“Yeah, yeah, she actually is, when she’s not talking back and challenging every fucking thing I say,” Steve complained, and it was a turn for both men to roll their eyes at their best friend.

“Oh yeah, because you love when they’re meek and quiet, we forgot. C’mon, man, somebody fucking choked her today, and she was still standing here with her head held high, keeping it together like a fucking pro. I say she is perfect for you,” Sam said defensively when he saw the murderous stare from his friend/boss.

Good thing Sam didn’t see you in your room because as soon as you closed the door behind yourself, the tears just streamed down your face, and small sobs left your lips. You were glad the day was over and dreaded what the next day would bring.

Next Chapter >

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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.”

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head.

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library…

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold.

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this.

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.”

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself.

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him.

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #seijoh #what did i just write #this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd #also #i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go #goodnight yall #queued up!

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zollner #sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zöllner #sebastian zollner x y/n

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stayndays · 4 years ago

Text

𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐬! - 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

part of my anime!skz series, this story is based off of “Toradora!” and will include spoilers on the plot of the show.

genres & tropes: fluff, minor angst (mostly at the end), high school au, love triangle/square, enemies & neighbors to lovers au, tsundere!jeongin (i guess?), gender neutral reader, reader is misunderstood as a cold person

disclaimers: drowning (but no death), mentions of rumor spreading & outcasting, mentions of anxious feelings/actual anxiety, one or two swear words, i have not proofread this so if the last few episodes seem really wonky that’s why

word count: 11k... we don’t comment on that

summary: “Y/L/N Y/N. Yang Jeongin. Kim “Chuu” Jiwoo. Kim Seungmin. You like Seungmin, Jeongin likes Chuu. You’re best friends with Chuu, Jeongin’s best friends with Seungmin. You don’t like Jeongin, but you know about each other’s crush. It’s time to play a game of Cupid, while being struck with Cupid’s arrow yourself.”

a/n: happy valentines day and belated jeongin day! this is the first story i’ve decided to tackle for my anime!skz series as well, so i get to hit three birds with one stone with this fic. also, i decided to take out a couple elements in the original anime (such as the addition of a character that’s like ami, taiga’s family issues, and some events) just so it’s simpler and totally not because i’m on a time crunch. i hope you enjoy reading this! <3

taglist: @skzwriternet @dayawantstosleep @desertofdessert @mr-jisung @dreamylunarnight (sorry if i forgot you i’m running on 0.2 braincells)

anime!skz masterlist is here!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Episode 1: Collision Course

“Psst, look over there!”

“Huh? What?”

“The fennec fox is about to face off against the dark delinquent!”

You turn to face the two students after overhearing the words “dark delinquent”, making the duo back away in fear. Cursing your parents who gave you these intimidating genes, you heave out a breath out of annoyance, and continue walking down the hallway.

Alas, maybe your appearance is the reason why people never approach you unless it’s absolutely necessary. You still manage to give off this dark atmosphere despite how much you try to change your appearance.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” your best friend, Chuu, attempts to reassure you. “It’s only the first day of school! You still have an entire school year to prove them wrong.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t envy your best friend, who basically embodies the definition of the sun. Always smiling and having a positive attitude regarding the situation, you just so happened to be the exact opposite of her. Boys are constantly crushing on her, she’s one of the most popular girls of your year, but she just so happens to be buddies with you.

“Oh, watch out Y/N!” Distracted by your thoughts, you process Chuu’s warning just a second too late, and collide with a particularly tall boy, somehow smacking your face right into the torso part of his male school uniform. The force manages to knock the both off you to the ground, sending your papers flying all over the place.

Oh, that’s right. That’s what the two girls were talking about. You’ve heard rumors of who this “fennec fox” person is, and how he has a really bad temper when you push his gears. But this guy you just bumped into? A fennec fox?

You guess you can see some resemblance of a fox in his facial structure, but his figure literally towered over you, making you feel like an ant standing next to a tree. The small crowd of passing students trying their absolute least to hold in their giggles make you feel even smaller, your neck growing hot because of how embarrassed you are.

“Watch where you’re going next time!” the boy scolds you, brushing off the paper that landed on top of his head. His voice makes you flinch slightly, and it’s only in that moment that you realize the rumors, so far at least, were true.

“Er, sorry,” you quietly mumble out, scratching the side of your face. He definitely looks pissed, you thought, smoke practically fuming out of the guy’s ears. “Here, I’ll help you gather your stuff.”

“I’ll help you guys out, too!” you hear a familiar voice, and meet the eyes belonging to a face you know all too well.

Kim Seungmin: your secret crush that nobody truly knows about (you’ve tried approaching the topic to Chuu multiple times, only to be interrupted by her other friends). He’s the vice president of your school, a role he’s gained through the student body president herself. The definition of hardworking and kind at the same time, who would you be not to fall for a guy like him?

Your breath gets caught up in your throat as you try to answer him. “Oh- Uh- Thank you, Seungmin.”

“Of course! Wouldn’t hurt to help out my best friend, too,” Seungmin replies.

Best friend?

“Thanks..” the boy simply mumbles in response, and you almost did a double take on what you just heard. Seungmin and this guy... best friends? Before you can dwell on it long enough, however, you’re already being pulled to your feet by Chuu, and your papers are back in your hands.

“Let’s go, Y/N!” Chuu beams with enthusiasm, and you could only afford a small smile in return. “Say, which class are you two in this year?”

“2-A,” the boy answers in a composed manner, the anger he released on you must’ve vanished by now, and you could almost see the pink dust coating his face. “What about you, Chuu?”

You can’t even process the way the guy completely skipped over you to only ask Chuu personally before you blurt out,

“We’re in the same class?!”

Episode 2: A Bold Strategy

Bad news: your love letter is gone.

That bastard fox dude, Jeongin, you learned his name was, must’ve taken it when you bumped into him in the morning. Not that you blame him entirely, because how could you remember to grab your letter in the ocean of textbooks and notebook paper?

Good news: you have his own love letter.

Why good news? Well, that just means he’s in the exact same boat as you, and now you can call yourself even with him. An exchange of love letters, it almost makes your heart calm down for a split second.

Until you read who the letter was addressed to.

There’s no way in hell this guy could get with your best friend. Jeongin, based off of first impressions, is a literal firecracker (who, for some reason, shouts at people he just met), while Chuu is a ball of sunshine. You don’t blame him, though, as almost every male classmate you’ve had has taken some sort of interest in her at some point, and you guess he’s no exception.

Then again, you’re in the same situation as him, crushing on somebody way out of your league.

While Seungmin is a star student, always willing to help people out and socialize, you’re a total outcast who can barely get average grades in school. Seungmin just so happened to be one of two (the other being Chuu) who’s approached you willingly, and that’s why you fell for him. That charming smile of his, and his caring nature. It was all too much for you.

As you thought about it more, flipping Jeongin’s love letter to Chuu between the flesh of your fingers, it’s not a terrible idea to help out Jeongin. He may currently have a 0% chance of getting with Chuu, but if you succeed and play a bit of matchmaking, he could return the favor to you.

You like his best friend, he likes your best friend...

You gently rip open the envelope encasing Jeongin’s letter, and start reading.

Episode 3: The Cupid Game Begins

“Uh, Jeongin-” you tap the boy’s shoulder once, which was conveniently right in front of your desk. He continues to talk to the people around him, which makes you tap his shoulder harder.

Jeongin whips his head around to meet your calm eyes, only turning slightly frightened when you flinch at his sudden movement. “Wha- Ah! What do you want?” He says in an aggravated tone.

“Sorry,” you apologize quickly for making him jump, not wanting to cause another scene like yesterday. “I just need to talk to you about something for a few minutes.”

Jeongin lets out a groan, fixing his position so he can look behind him more comfortably. “What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“Something I’m sure you don’t want your friends to hear,” you respond casually, picking at the skin on your fingers. The boy’s eyes visibly perk up at your reasoning, and finally nods. “Thanks,” you say to him and stand up, pushing in your seat.

“Careful Jeongin!”

“Fight back if they hit you!”

You let out a deep sigh at the comments directed towards you, not even bothering to shoot them a glance in response. It’ll only make the rumors worse, you think as you walk out of the classroom, Jeongin trailing behind your footsteps after closing the door.

The hallway was silent once you stepped out of your class, no longer hearing the chattering of your fellow classmates about the latest gossip and homework. You could only hear your very own footsteps, along with Jeongin’s feet, which were behind you. Once the two of you made your way to the vending machines near the school stairs, you take out the coin you were holding in your hand and insert it into one of the machines.

“Which drink do you want?” you ask the boy without turning to face him, fishing out another coin in your mini wallet.

“The melon one-” Jeongin does a double take, not believing what he heard as he watches you insert another coin into the vending machine. “Wait, why are you buying a drink for me?” He questions your antics, slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

You stick your hand into the machine to grab Jeongin’s drink, making eye contact with him as you hand it over. “Why not? Is there a reason I should be buying you a drink?”

“Well, I mean,” Jeongin scratches the back of his neck in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to be... a delinquent?”

You chuckle at his explanation, “Does that mean you’re a fox? Our nicknames in this school are only based off of our appearances, isn’t that funny?” Joining him on the floor, you crack open your own drink. “So no, I’m not a delinquent, and I’ll never be one.”

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about anyways,” you don’t bother to check Jeongin’s facial expressions as you continue, starting to take out his envelope before you’re stopped by him.

“Wait! I have something to give you too,” Jeongin stops your movement, slipping out something from his pocket as well.

“Is this yours?”

You both say at the same time, revealing each other’s envelopes. There’s yours, with a tacky, red heart sticker stamped onto the envelope to seal it. Then there’s Jeongin’s, with only the word “To: Chuu” on the back.

Jeongin quickly snatches his letter from your hand, and quickly throws your own onto your lap. “Uh, thanks for returning it. You didn’t- Give it to Chuu for her to read... right?”

“Of course not.”

“And you didn’t read what’s inside?”

“..You got me there, I’ll admit it,” you chuckle slightly, raising your hands in defeat as your face starts to grow hot. Jeongin hums a bit, surprisingly not even a tad bit angry at your confession.

“Well,” Jeongin leans back against the wall. “I guess we’re even then.”

“What?!” you exclaim in surprise. “I mean- Yeah, cool. Actually, this works out perfectly.”

“Why?”

“I have a proposal for you,” you start. “We both like each other’s best friend, right? So we could be each other’s wingman and try to get with our crush. It’ll just take a bit of cooperation, though.”

Jeongin scoffs, “You made me look like a fool on the first day of school, why should I?”

“Well, besides being the apparent ‘delinquent’ of this school, I’d say I’m quite good at matchmaking thanks to Chuu, a cupid, you could almost say,” you cross your arms in defense. “Then again, since I’ve already read your sappy love letter to Chuu, I could always tell her that-”

“Fine!” Jeongin finally gives in. “I’m in, I’m in. I have absolutely no idea how I could get somebody like Seungmin to like somebody like you, but if you’re able to get me and Chuu into a relationship, I’ll try my best to play cupid. Okay?”

“I’m just going to ignore that comment about me and take it,” you shrug, standing up after checking the clock on the wall. “I’ll give you my address on a piece of paper later, so we could meet up and start planning.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jeongin follows your actions, standing up and tossing his drink into the trash can.

“Remind me to pay you back for the drink, by the way.”

Episode 4: His Angelic Neighbor

“How ironic.”

“How ironic, indeed,” Jeongin agrees with you, the two of you standing at the entrance of Eda Apartments Complex, your backpacks on your back.

The studio apartment complex the both of you just so happen to live in, that is.

Part of you is relieved that you live near Jeongin, so maybe you could get to know him better (not as a friend, of course, but to see if Chuu would actually like him), and of course to work out your cupid plans together. However, the other part of you is confused as to why you’ve never even seen him around your apartment until now.

These thoughts run through your head as Jeongin leads you to his apartment, walking up a lengthy three flights of stairs, as opposed to your usual two.

When he’s about to open the door to his place, Jeongin turns around to face you, key in hand. “Whatever you do, don’t comment about my place.”

“Okay...?” you comply with an incredibly confused tone, but it seems to be enough for Jeongin, as he swings the door open.

Soda cans upon soda cans are messily piled up near a trash can, which was overflowing with paper plates and tissues. His bed, which is in the corner of the room (which, to be fair, it’s a studio apartment, and you have the same bed layout as him), wasn’t even made, and what you could assume to be a dining table had leftover Chinese takeout boxes on it.

When you peered into the sink after reluctantly placing your belongings near the door, it’s almost clogged up with muck and filth, making a shiver run down your spine. Not to mention, when you asked Jeongin if you could have a drink from the fridge, all your eyes could see were frozen meals & rows of soda and juice. How long has Jeongin been living this way?

“Uhm, hate to mention this to you,” you close the fridge gently after grabbing a can of soda. “but your place is really-”

“What did I say to you before I opened the door?” Jeongin fires back before you could finish.

You stay silent.

“Exactly. Now can we please start talking about our ‘Cupid Plans’ as you like to refer to it?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow at you, taking out the items in his backpack.

“It’s a cute name, okay?” you respond, making your way to the table as Jeongin pushes the takeout boxes to the side. “And we’ll be studying too, we have a quiz tomorrow, remember?”

“I’ll rather do the studying later,” Jeongin. “So what does Chuu like?”

“Hmm...” it takes you a moment to think about what your best friend likes when it comes to love, which is a bit strange, because you’d think you’d know what Chuu likes after watching people confess to her after all these years. “I think she’d prefer something planned? Even extravagant, if you really push it. She likes plushies and small gifts.”

“What about Seungmin?” you ask Jeongin.

It also takes Jeongin a second to come up with an answer. “He’s always been into nerdy, yet bubbly people, I guess? Since you’re so antisocial, though, he probably won’t like somebody like you right now.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I’m only trying to help!”

The conversation shifts slightly, and to your surprise, flows well despite your polar opposite personality. You and Jeongin discuss possible ideas as to how both of you could help each other out while studying for your upcoming quiz.

“And for equation 17, would it be-” you lift your head up from your math textbook, only to see Jeongin using his arm as a pillow and sleeping on his own book. You blink a couple times in disbelief, but remember that you’ve been over at his house for a little over three hours at this point. Shrugging, you gently close your textbook and decide to call it a day at Jeongin’s place.

But then you go back to your senses and remember how filthy of an apartment you’ve been at this entire time. The more you look at your surroundings, the more you desire to clean up the place.

A neat freak, that’s what everybody calls you. It’s what your mom taught you all throughout your childhood, and it’s a trait you’ve kept until now.

Your mind goes into autopilot mode as you start moving around his place left and right. Somehow, you were able to find a box of plastic gloves stored in the back of the sink cabinet, so you put a pair on and start cleaning. Tying up garbage bags and cleaning out the sink, you also make the effort to place the leftover Chinese food into the fridge after checking if it’s spoiled or not. Most people would stare at you in confusion, but you shake your head at the thought, only hoping that Jeongin would at least appreciate your efforts.

By the end of your cleaning session, you could now call the studio apartment an apartment, and not some kind of swamp. Pleased at your work, you take out one of your notebooks and rip out a piece of paper, grabbing a pencil along the way. You write a quick note for Jeongin to read when he wakes up:

“Cleaned up your place while you were asleep, I could also cook for you and teach you how to cook? (Chuu likes food) text me: xxx-xxx-xxxx”

Swinging your backpack onto your pack, you leave his apartment and make your way to your own.

Later that night, your phone dings with a message from an unknown number.

[Unknown: i’m so tired of frozen meals and takeout, please cook for me (and teach me how)]

Episode 5: However

“Here’s your lunch, Yang,” you pass your spare lunchbox to the seat in front of you, which Jeongin takes gratefully. Chuu, who was making her way over to the seat next to you, catches sight of your interaction with Jeongin.

“Y/N’s food is good, isn’t it Jeongin?” Chuu strikes up a conversation right away, leaving Jeongin flustered, and most likely burning hot.

“Y-Yeah, it is.”

“Say, you two have been talking a lot lately,” Chuu starts talking as you tilt your head up to take a sip of your drink. “Have you two been, or should I say, has Y/N finally gotten a-”

You choke on your drink, almost spitting it all over Jeongin’s back before catching yourself. Jeongin has almost the same reaction as you, only choking on the food you prepared for him instead. It had only been two weeks of school; two weeks of talking to Jeongin solely about each other’s crush, and yet Chuu believes that you two have something going on.

“Absolutely not, Chuu.”

“Yeah, no way.”

You exchange a glare with Jeongin, almost in a panicked manner. If Chuu believes that you two are dating, that would practically be the end of your chances to be with Seungmin, same going for Jeongin with Chuu.

“Alrighty then, I trust you two,” Chuu leans back in the chair she’s sitting on, before promptly getting up and making her way to the door of the classroom. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

As soon as she closes the door, Jeongin immediately leans over to your desk, ignoring his bento box. “We have to do something about what Chuu said.”

“Duh, there’s no way we could let her think that about us,” you agree with him. “What are some solutions? We could try to be more distant with each other, which honestly I don’t think either of us would mind too much. I could simply tell Chuu that we aren’t even close friends, or-”

“You need to confess to Seungmin,” Jeongin bluntly tells you, catching you off guard.

“What- why would I do that?!” you almost yell at the boy in front of his face. His plan is all kinds of crazy, you would’ve never thought of it yourself.

“You’ve known Seungmin longer than I’ve known Chuu, so you have a lower risk of being rejected. And if you actually end up dating Seungmin, then Chuu would know that us two aren’t a couple,” Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a win-win situation.”

You scoff, “And if I get rejected?”

“I’ll like- I don’t know, buy you ice cream?” Jeongin attempts to persuade you, to which you sigh as a response.

“I guess I’ll trust you on this.”

The day passes by without a hitch, to your utter shock, as the churning in your stomach says otherwise. The thought of impulsively confessing to your long time crush makes you feel lightheaded and dizzy, as it was something you’ve never done before. However, your stubbornness is refusing you to back down from Jeongin’s wild plan, so here you are, face to face with Seungmin at the roof of the school.

“Erm- So-”

“The weather is pretty nice today, isn’t it Y/N?” Seungmin casually breaks the ice wall between you two.

The sudden question catches you off guard. “Ah, yes.. yes it is...” Already, you could feel the heat rising up your body, even when the weather today was particularly cloudy. “Uhm, I brought you here to tell you something, Seungmin.”

“Oh, what is it?” Seungmin seems surprised at your statement, but the voice in your head tells you otherwise. He’s smart enough to look through people, you know that already, so why are you trying to hide your feelings when you’re already this far?

It’s time to take a leap of faith, you think, as you take in a large breath before telling him everything. “Uh, you see.. I’ve always appreciated you ever since you approached me that one day. Nobody’s ever done that for me except for you and Chuu, and because of that I think you’re a.. great person... What- What I’m trying to say here is-”

“I like you, Seungmin.”

You tilt your head downwards, almost in shame as you play with your fingers anxiously. Letting out a shaky exhale, you can’t believe that you just confessed all of those things to your own crush. Your heart beating a thousand miles a second, it felt like you were about to explode from either embarrassment or anticipation; quite possibly even both at the same time.

“You, know, Y/N..” Seungmin starts to chuckle, grabbing onto his left wrist with his right hand.

“I used to like you.”

That made you look back up at him in shock, blinking a couple times out of disbelief. “Really?!”

Seungmin simply hums, confirming what he just stated. “That’s why I approached you in the first place. There was something about you that drew me into talking to you. And of course, you didn’t disappoint me,” he flashes you a comforting smile, but it soon goes away at his next word.

“However...”

Seungmin leaves you hanging after that one word: however. His mouth opens and closes, most likely trying to come up with the right words to say. You wobble your feet back and forth, becoming more and more impatient.

But then, he says something. A simple, ten word sentence. Not a compound nor a complex sentence. Easy for a little kid to understand.

“I hope we can be good friends in the future.”

And yet it cracks your heart.

In a blink of an eye, Seungmin has disappeared from your view. An unexpected wind blows through your body, almost feeling like a comforting pat on the back after being rejected; friend-zoned.

You make your way to the front of the school, dragging your feet in a lazy manner. Jeongin’s head perks up when he nears footsteps, only to gaze down at your slumped figure. Letting out a deep exhale, you give Jeongin a glare that could cut him in half; one of disappointment and exhaustion.

“You owe me ice cream.”

The ice cream place is about two blocks away from your apartment complex, decorated in obnoxious pastel colors that make your eyes squint. Jeongin is relatively quiet throughout your walk there, only offering to carry your backpack if it’s too heavy for you, to which you declined quietly. You can feel the burn of his eyes on top of your head, anticipating for you to let out a scream in anger, but you’re simply not that kind of person.

You remain deep in thought even when you sit down, grabbing a menu to cover your face. Jeongin’s eyes remain on your figure, and you wonder if he’s actually, genuinely, worried for you.

“Er, what do you want to order?” Jeongin asks you in an attempt to break the tension. “I’ll pay, since you seem a bit heartbroken right now-”

“Hi, welcome 901 Freeze Treats Parlor-” you look up from the menu at the sound of a familiar, cheery voice.

You forgot Chuu works here.

And you forgot to tell Jeongin that information.

“Oh, Y/N! And Jeongin, hi guys,” Chuu flashes a grin at the both of you, and you can’t help but smile and almost giggle at how Jeongin grows beetroot red. She’s sporting a pair of pigtails in her hair, and the striped uniform topped with a cute hat on top. “What can I get you guys?” “I’ll- I’ll get the banana split Chuu!” Jeongin exclaims a bit too loud, attracting the rest of the customers at the parlor. Chuu, although a bit confused, seems to enjoy Jeongin’s enthusiasm for ice cream and writes down the order.

You set down the menu and point to what you want with a hum, to which Chuu bends forward slightly in order to see what you want. “You always order that, Y/N! Don’t you want to try something else?”

“I’m good, Chuu, thanks,” you give her a gentle smile, praying that she won’t comment about how tired and defeated you look. Fortunately for you, she leaves you alone, and you’re left back with just Jeongin.

“How have my letters been doing?” Jeongin blurts out before he could stop himself, covering his mouth with one of his hands soon after. “I- I mean, I shouldn’t.. really ask when you’re sad.. but I mean I might as well ask you since we just talked to her, right? Sorry-”

“They’re doing good, she likes them a lot,” you reply softly to the frantic boy, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your answer. You’ve spent the past few weeks helping Jeongin write love letters to Chuu, even decorating them with cute stickers. For once, your writing skills can come into play, and you haven’t let Jeongin down yet. “And it’s okay, my head is just in the clouds. At least he let me down gently.”

“What exactly did he say?” Jeongin eggs you on, wanting you to elaborate further.

“Something along the lines of us being good friends in the future,” you explain to him. “He even said that he used to like me, but I don’t know-”

“Then you still have a chance, right?” Jeongin doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence before jumping in. “He left the door wide open for you to walk into, or- something like that at least. And, now thinking about it, I actually do think he used to like you.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re only saying that to make me feel better about this.”

“No, really! He mentioned that he liked somebody quiet and mysterious, and that he was gravitated towards that person. He told me that he would approach that person someday. It must’ve been you! I’ve known Seungmin for years, and this is one of two times he’s told me about his crushes,” Jeongin carries on with his own explanation. “So, in conclusion, I still believe it’s possible to win over his heart.”

Your lips press into a thin line, “You sure? Like, you’re absolutely positive about this?”

Jeongin nods, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he sends you a genuinely positive smile. It’s not like the annoyed snarks or the cheeky smirks he gives you all the time, but rather, something you could find comfort in. Just like Seungmin’s smile.

“Okay then, I’ll trust you.”

Episode 6: Swimming Lessons

“Did you guys hear that the school’s swimming pool is opening next week?” A masculine voice you know all too well, yet you wish you didn’t at the same time, is heard from behind your back. Seungmin locks eyes with you as he tosses an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder while you continue walking down the hallway.

It’s all too weird in your opinion that Seungmin is actually even friendlier after rejecting you. Because, shouldn’t the two of you be distant for at least a week or two? You guess that’s just not how Seungmin operates, then, as he dove right back into talking with you after that dreadful day on the school rooftop.

“Yeah, Seung!” Jeongin answers with a joyful tone, giving you the chance to break your eye contact with Seungmin. You, on the other hand, were not a swimmer whatsoever.

Being submerged into a body of water to the point where your toes can’t reach the ground has never been ideal for you. Any kind of physical action required to even survive in the water is off putting in your option, so you’ve always stuck to dipping your feet into the water and nothing else.

But you guess that changes starting today.

“You know Seungmin,” Jeongin starts to say, “Y/N is actually a pretty good swimmer! I think they could even beat you in a swimming race.”

Your head jumps up in surprise, eyes widening when Jeongin turns to you. He mumbles the words “trust me” before going back to Seungmin. How many times will you have to trust Jeongin and his crazy schemes?

“Oh, really?”

Jeongin hums in confirmation, ignoring the side nudges coming from you.

“Then we should race once the pool opens, Y/N!” Seungmin suggests with visible excitement beaming from his face.

Your gut immediately tells you to deny, but then you have to consider Jeongin’s “trust me.” He seems fairly confident that everything would work out, so is the risk worth the possible reward?

“Oh- Uhm... Sure! Sure, let’s.. let’s race, yeah,” you manage to let out before you could change your mind. “Just give me time to prepare, I, uh, haven’t swam in a while.”

“Of course!” Seungmin grins. “Let’s do it in two weeks, okay?

All you could respond with is a nod, which Seungmin takes without anymore questions. He bids the both of you well, and makes a left to the student council room.

You feel like a puddle of mush, waiting to collapse onto the tile floor of the school hallway. “I. Hate. You,” you scowl harshly at Jeongin.

“What?” Jeongin is caught off guard at your sudden hostility. “You never mentioned that you were afraid of the pool, and I don’t think it’s that bad of an idea. This is your chance to impress Seungmin!”

You scratch your head in confusion and denial. “Isn’t this a bit much, though? And who’s going to teach me how to swim?”

“You could always get me back with any ridiculous idea on how to get Chuu to like me,” Jeongin suggests to you. “And I’ll teach you, I’m a decent swimmer.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks for the idea, by the way,” you comment with a smirk, watching as Jeongin’s expression turns into one of regret.

“Now, teach me how to swim.”

An entire two weeks pass, and with those two weeks, comes the opening of the school pool. Although the vast majority of your classmates are genuinely excited to get a chance to cool down in the recent, scorching weather, you’re visibly less enthusiastic about it. You still try to keep a smile on your face with Seungmin is around though, so he doesn’t see through the lie Jeongin spontaneously made up.

“Y/N!” Chuu approaches you after exiting the changing room near the pool; you’ve already changed prior to her. “Your race with Seungmin is today, right? I see you’re all decked out in floaties.”

“Yeah, I’m just, uh- using them for safety purposes.” you give her a short and sweet response due to the churning in your stomach after being reminded of the event happening today. It’s a shame that your entire class knows what’s going down in just a few minutes, because they’re all anticipating your match with Seungmin. “The Delinquent vs The Student Pet” is what they’ve dubbed the match.

Also, Seungmin was generous enough to add onto the rules that floats were allowed to be used. So now you have floats all around your figure: some attached onto you, some you have to hold.

“Hey Y/N-” Jeongin stops walking towards you after noticing Chuu, her hair in a braid and only wearing a casual swimsuit. “Oh- Hi Chuu!”

Chuu acknowledges Jeongin’s presence, but quickly turns back to you. “I hope you win the race, Y/N. I have faith that you could do it!”

“Y-Yeah Y/N! We didn’t train all for nothing,” Jeongin adds onto Chuu’s comment. Thankfully, although Chuu doesn’t even know that you couldn’t swim prior to now, she doesn’t question Jeongin’s extra addition of training. “Let’s head over to the start of the pool? Seungmin’s already there, I’m just here to fetch Y/N.”

“Okay! I’m referee as well, so I have to be there too,” Chuu claims, and the three

Seungmin turns around from a group of boys to greet you, “Hey, Y/N! Ready for our match?

“H-Hey Seungmin,” you greet him with a friendly, yet shy tone, along with a nod.

“Okay!” Chuu gathers everybody’s attention with just the sound of her voice. “We’re here today to watch the race of Y/N vs Seungmin. On the count of three, I’ll blow my whistle and they’ll start swimming. You must go to the end of the pool, and right back to where we are right now. Ready?”

“3...”

“Also, just to calm your nerves a bit,” Seungmin whispers to just you right before the race begins.

“2...”

“I already know that you didn’t know how to swim before this. It’s okay if you fail, I’ll make sure nobody makes fun of you. Just stay safe, okay?”

“1...”

Your breath hitches for a split second, but before you can fully process what Seungmin just confessed to you, the whistle blows.

Seungmin dives into the water head first, while you jump in measly with your feet touching the water before the rest of your body. By the time you’re able to start kicking your legs, Seungmin is already ahead of you, so you push against the wall using your feet and start doggy paddling. It’s quite pathetic, and you’re sure that’s what everybody is thinking as they watch you swim, but it doesn’t matter at this point.

Or does it?

Because while you’re swimming across the pool, your brain just had to remind yourself about what Seungmin said seconds before the race started. He already knew you couldn’t swim, so it’s not really about impressing him anymore.

Then again, it’s not necessarily about winning, but about showing Seungmin that you’re dedicated enough to try new things to have fun with him.

That’s why it matters now.

However, it feels like you’re sinking.

Throughout the race, you’ve lost float after float, and now you only have the two floats that wrap around your arms. The water is slowly starting to touch your lips, and falling into a standing position, making your situation even worse. Your heart pounds faster and faster in a panicked frenzy, struggling to comprehend what to do.

Thankfully, cupid comes to rescue you.

He jumps into the pool like a lifeguard, placing his hands near your armpits before pulling you out of the water with a surprising amount of strength. Despite the midst of chaos you were put in, you’re able to hear cheers and applauds, signaling that Seungmin must’ve finished the race. Once again, you’re left to vanish, with the only other misunderstood student to help you.

You feel the surface of the concrete outside of the pool on your bottom as you cough out water. Yet, Jeongin is nowhere in your sight.

That’s when you realized. He’s submerged under the water.

You assume that he must’ve lost energy while saving you, resulting in the two of you swapping places. Eyes widening at the sight, you sprint across the flooring of the pool site, screaming your lungs out for somebody to help.

“Shit!” you curse yourself when you finally get the an adult’s attention after being unable to get a classmate to help you. All of your classmates ended up next to Seungmin, aka, the opposite end of where you stopped swimming. It’s only when the teacher pulls Jeongin’s unconscious body out of the water for it to lay down that it grabs everybody’s attention, swarming to see what was happening.

That’s when you snap.

“I’m disappointed in all of you right now!” you scold all of your classmates, something you’d never think you’d get the courage to do until now. “All of you were focused on that stupid race, but you never bothered to check on Jeongin. He could’ve died because of your ignorance! I hope you all know that.”

After leaving your classmates’ mouths agape, you storm out of the crowd, and make your way to the changing room. Nobody, not even Chuu or Seungmin, bothers to approach you.

Later that day, after some of your classmates apologized for not noticing what was happening, you, and a now in-stable-condition Jeongin, walk home after an exhausting day. Not many words are said, just like your regular walks after each school day, until Jeongin turns to you.

“Uhm, I just wanna say..” Jeongin starts to speak,. “Thanks for defending me earlier after I drowned.”

You blink in surprise, “Wait, you heard all of that?”

“Yeah, I was already conscious for a few seconds before you started going off on them. But thank you, seriously. I appreciate it after being misunderstood by our classmates for all these years,” Jeongin sighs, and then gives you another one of his kind smiles.

“Of course...” your mouth forms a thin line after you mumble out those two words.

Why is your heart fluttering like Jeongin’s pair of cupid wings?

Episode 7: All For Your Happiness

“Hey Chuu, listen to this!” you hold your phone right next to Chuu’s ear, which was playing the sounds you’d find at a haunted mansion. She yelps once she realizes what she’s listening to, and pushes your phone away with her palm, making everybody laugh.

Never in a million years would you find yourself sitting on a train with Chuu, Jeongin, and Seungmin all at once. The four of you were on your way to Chuu’s beach house, a place you’ve been to before during every summer break prior to this one, but it was always just the two of you. Now, however, you have your very own crush tagging along, plus his own best friend (and you don’t exactly know what you should call him anymore... Friend? Good Friend? Partner in Crime? Cupid Partner?).

And you and Jeongin have a plan. One time, for once, you came up with, and you believe that it’s less traumatizing than nearly drowning in a pool.

It just so turns out that Jeongin is a horror movie enthusiast, so he slipped multiple DVD sets of horror movie classics into his suitcase to do a watching marathon at the beach house. It also turns out that Chuu is terrified of anything that could scare her, like jump scares. So, the plan is for Jeongin to become Chuu’s knight in shining armor for whenever she gets scared during this trip.

“Why are you making me listen to all of these things?” Chuu whines with a pout. To be fair, you’ve been making her listen to these chilling noises for the entire train ride, to the point where you’re almost at your stop.

“It’s kind of funny to watch your reactions, that’s all,” you semi lie, because while it is a bit hilarious to see Chuu’s dramatic reactions, you’re waiting for the moment for Jeongin to strike.

And it’s at that moment when Jeongin finally speaks up, “Er- Chuu! If you ever get scared during this trip, come to me and I’ll-”

You mouth the word “protect” to Jeongin once he stops speaking.

“Uh- protect you!” Jeongin finishes after looking at you.

“Oh okay!” Chuu gives Jeongin a heartfelt grin. “I’ll make sure to go to you then, thanks!”

Jeongin nods eagerly, something Seungmin chuckles at, and you lean back in your seat at ease. If you’re able to successfully help Jeongin be Chuu’s knight during this trip, you’re certain that Chuu will at least take some interest at Jeongin.

The train reaches your destination swiftly after Jeongin’s interaction with Chuu, and after a quick bus ride and a trek to the beach, you’ve finally reached Chuu’s family beach house.

“Wow, this is awesome Chuu!” Seungmin shouts gleefully as he looks at the house. The house is relatively small and gives off a modern feel, but it’s fortunately enough to fit four people in.

Chuu smiles at the compliment, “Thank you! My family is fortunate enough to own a place like this for the summer. But since my parents are always overseas when summer rolls around, this place turns into a paradise for Y/N and I!”

“Anyways,” Chuu continues. “We should probably clean up the house since it hasn’t been used since last year, but I say we go play on the beach first!”

While Seungmin and Jeongin nod their heads eagerly, a lightbulb is turned on in your head.

“Actually,” you speak up. “I’ll go on ahead and clean up the house first. It’s probably messy inside, and you guys know how much of a ‘neat freak’ I am.”

Jeongin seems to catch onto your idea, his eyebrows rising, “Oh, then I’ll clean up with Y/N too!”

“But you seem really excited for the beach Jeongin,” Seungmin questions, but Jeongin waves it off.

“It’s okay! You two can go play first,” Jeongin insists, and the other two don’t ask anymore questions, heading towards the ocean. “You really are a smart person, aren’t you Y/N?”

There it is; that fluttering in your heart again, but why now? “Well, you’re smart for catching on. Let’s go place scary traps all over the house?”

“Heck yeah.”

After some time cleaning up the house (and making what would be Seungmin and Jeongin’s room especially clean) and placing various objects around the rooms to create a horror effect, the two of you had finally joined the others at the beach. It was then that the “Scare Chuu Montage” officially began.

During your time at the beach, you attempted to kick some seaweed at Chuu’s legs to make her jump, but the ocean water never agreed to your intentions and spared her. That night, Chuu walked into the dark bathroom only to meet eyes with a reflection in the mirror. But when Jeongin came rushing over, Chuu had already turned on the light and saw the makeshift face you created on the mirror using face cream and cotton balls.

The second day, Chuu woke up to the sound of being a woman screaming her head off, making her jump out of her bed in alert. It was simply a sound you found on the internet, but at least it woke up her up. The day was spent shopping at the nearby mall, so you couldn’t do very much to scare Chuu other than to hide at various nooks and crannies. You also ordered for Jeongin to stay by Chuu’s side at all times, but he didn’t do very much other than attempt to hold her hand (which was a very poor attempt, so of course, he failed). At least you and Seungmin talked individually while getting some ice cream, and to your utter surprise, it wasn’t that awkward.

The third day, you finally got Seungmin on board with your plans. Although a bit skeptical at first, you insisted that it would be a fun and harmless prank, and counteracted him by saying he laughed when Chuu got scared during the train ride. With Seungmin teaming up with you and Jeongin (without knowing your real intentions with the pranks), the horror movie marathon started despite Chuu’s pleads (to ensure that Chuu didn’t find any other movie disks around the place, you hid them all on the first day in a location she’d never look).

With Jeongin and Chuu on the couch and you and Seungmin on the floor, you don’t think it’s possible for the two to still be away from each other after this marathon ends. The first movie starts off generally slow pacing, but it’s enough for Chuu to mutter out pleas of worry for the characters. Jeongin quietly laughs at her antics, telling her once more that he’s there if she needs to be comforted, and you give Jeongin a mental high five.

By the end of the night, the two were cuddling, Chuu’s face looking especially scarred, while you and Seungmin finished the massive bowl of popcorn. When the lights finally came on, Chuu and Jeongin finally realized the position they were both in, and quickly scurried away from each other to your amusement.

The fourth morning came shortly afterwards, and with that morning came the end of your trip at the beach house. Although it was spent mostly with your attempts at scaring your very own best friend, you still had fun yourself, and even spent some time with your crush.

And it seemed like your efforts finally paid off, because Chuu wanted to talk with Jeongin privately.

After Jeongin shoots a glance at you while walking off to a private room of the house with Chuu, you quickly shuffle your feet over when Chuu’s not looking, placing your back against the wall. You hear footsteps inside the room before they suddenly stop, and then hushed whispers are all you could hear.

But then, Jeongin’s voice increases in volume.

“You.. You knew that we were pranking you?”

Your next breath gets caught up in your throat once you realize what exactly that meant.

You failed?

Chuu hums, “I did, but I didn’t bother to tell you because it looked like you and Y/N were having so much fun. Actually, I was only guessing that you were pranking me this entire time, until Seungmin came and confirmed it with me.”

“Seungmin?!”

“Yeah, Seungmin! I guess he played you guys,” Chuu laughs. “At least you had fun on this trip! I actually did, too, because I love scary stuff. I’m not afraid of it at all.”

“Oh...”

“Hey, cheer up! You made me happy, and you’re happy too, isn’t that what matters?” Chuu reassures Jeongin. “Anyways, we should continue packing. I just wanted to get that off of my chest.”

You hear more footsteps, and then something that sounds like a cushioned thud.

“Thank you, Jeongin.”

You must’ve heard Jeongin squeak, because he has to clear his throat before answering. “S-Sure, Chuu. Yeah, of course!” Jeongin says the last few words more confidently as Chuu giggles.

That’s when you rushed into the nearest bathroom moments after the door swings open. The shuffling of footsteps is heard again, until they stop once more, and then somebody knocks on the door.

“I know you’re there, Y/N,” Jeongin claims, and that’s your signal to open the door.

“Yeah, but that’s not what matters here!” Jeongin’s eyes are wide open as he lets out wheeze after wheeze. “I- No- We made her happy, Y/N! She really enjoyed these past couple of days! And, and! She gave me a hug, Y/N!! I don’t think I’ll ever get over this, seriously. I’m falling for her more and more.”

It’s the first time that you’ve seen Jeongin as giddy as this, in the several months you’ve known him. Is this what love does to people? Is it supposed to make their heart burst like what you’re seeing right now?

Because, if so, why don’t you feel like that for Seungmin anymore?

Note to self: Jeongin, out of all people, loves hugs.

Episode 8: And He’s Gone

Seungmin has been acting.. rather odd lately.

To be fair, the school festival had just ended, plus the student council election was about to occur, so you’d reckon he must be exhausted as vice president of the council. Perhaps he must be busy thinking of ways to campaign (not that he needs to, everybody agrees that he’s the best person to become the next president) or maybe he’s just getting a good rest.

But that’s not what Jeongin claims.

[Jeongin: he doesn’t want to run for president]

[You: really?!]

[Jeongin: yeah, but he won’t even tell me the reason]

[You: ahhh what do we do now T-T]

[You: on one hand we should respect his decision]

[You: but on the other, the school will crumble without him]

[Jeongin: idk y/n]

[Jeongin: i could try to explain to him why he should run or at least try to get his reasoning]

[You: yeah you should do that]

[Jeongin: cya]

You drop your phone down onto your chest, sighing heavily. Rolling over on your bed to face the window, you ponder as to why Seungmin would make such an impulsive decision like that. He was always so passionate about being a member of the student council, so why is he backing away from it now?

“Bad news: I wasn’t able to get any info from Seungmin,” Jeongin confesses as the two of you walk to school for another day. “Good news: I have a plan in case Seungmin truly doesn’t want to run for president!”

“It seems like all of your plans are either dumb, crazy, or both,” you retort back at him. “But shoot.”

“One of us runs for president!”

“Don’t shoot, nevermind.”

“No no no, you have to listen to me for this,” Jeongin attempts to persuade you. “Because after you hear my explanation, you’ll probably think it’s a good idea.”

You stay silent.

Jeongin continues though, “So, if one of us runs for president, and campaigns really bad, we’re talking ‘I’m going to give everybody six ounces of homework when I become president’ bad, then Seungmin would want to jump in to save the school!”

“Why don’t we make somebody else do it? Like- Chuu for example!” you insist, but Jeongin’s not having any of it.

“Chuu’s too popular, she might actually win. So it has to be one of us.”

“Then you do it because it’s your idea.”

“Nope.”

You sigh in defeat, “Rock paper scissors?” Jeongin nods, and gets his hands out. You’re quite confident that you’ll win, as you’re somehow incredibly good at rock papers scissors. Jeongin seems like the type of person to throw out scissors as a first move, and since this isn’t a best out of three game, you have to take your shot.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Your rock is meant with his paper as Jeongin chuckles, covering your fist with his hand.

“Looks like you’re running for president!” Jeongin beams at you.

It’s now a week after your rock paper scissor match with Jeongin, the reason you’re even here in the first place. Next to you is a set of speakers, and in your hand is a megaphone. Taking a deep breath, and taking the time to glance at the boy behind you, you put the megaphone next to your mouth.

“Listen up you morons!” you shout at the confused crowd of students beneath your feet, trying to ignore the burning of your face. “I, Y/L/N Y/N, am running for president! So unless any of you cowards decide to run as well, I’ll be your new president! Get used to it!”

“Y/N’s running?”

“Out of all people?”

“Gosh, why isn’t Seungmin here when we need him?”

You continue on with your speech, going on and on about how you’re basically going to rip this school into shreds. You start to worry that you’ll be doing this until the school bell rings for first period, starting to question how much courage you have left to not collapse out of embarrassment, until he finally shows up.

“Excuse me! Sorry, I need to get through!”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N? And why are you helping them Jeongin?! This isn’t like you guys,” Seungmin demands with a worried expression on his face.

You and Jeongin look at each other, before you decide to answer. “We’re doing this because you weren’t running for president for some dumb reason. This school needs you, Seungmin!”

Seungmin’s mouth forms on “o” shape as he realizes your intentions, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

He chuckles, “You really are something, aren’t you Y/N?” Seungmin’s expression softens when he meets your eyes, showing gratitude. He gently takes the megaphone from your hands, and clears his throat.

“My name is Kim Seungmin, and I will be your next student council president!”

An uproar of cheers follow his announcement, and you let out a laugh of relief. Now you could bail out of the election, leaving Seungmin as the only person the school could vote for as president. It’s a win win situation.

Until the election ceremony rolls around.

All of the students are packed into the gymnasium, each class standing in rows. On the stage you could see the current student council members, along with Seungmin, and your heart races for him.

He’s called up to the front of the stage after being announced as the school’s new president, and a thunder of applause booms through the gym. Seungmin stands in front of the microphone.

“I’m Kim Seungmin, I’m your new president, and... and-”

“I am in love with our former president, Park Jihyo!”

He’s in love... with Jihyo?

Jeongin immediately turns to look at you, his mouth agape just like yours. The rest of the audience starts murmuring to each other in disbelief. Seungmin, out of all people, pulling a stunt like this?

Oddly enough though, you don’t feel the same heartburn that you felt the first time you were rejected. It’s almost as if... you’re okay with this.

“You’re the reason why I’m standing here today; because you gave me a purpose at this school! And I know that you’re leaving to study abroad right after I take your role of president, so that’s why I’m shooting my shot today!” Seungmin explains loudly to the microphone, right in front of Jihyo, who’s standing there with an unamused look on her face. “Do I have any chance to be with you? Any chance whatsoever?!”

By the end of his speech, Seungmin is out of breath from shouting so much, and Jihyo seems to be stunned. She quickly shakes her head to clear out her mind, though, and takes the nearest microphone into her hands.

“And here, ladies and gentlemen, is your new student body president,” Jihyo calmly announces to everybody, not even acknowledging Seungmin’s confession at first.

“I taught him how to be a good leader, and that’s how he ended up on this stage today. I have absolutely no doubt that Seungmin will do an incredible job as body president. I care for him quite deeply, and I hope you will help him succeed at his duties of being president.”

“Please look after my good friend, Kim Seungmin, while I’m gone. Thank you.”

Rejection: unrequited love, but confirmed. To some, it may feel like a glass filled to the brim with water suddenly shattering onto the floor. To others, it’s a gentle, yet brutal, falling of a feather, easing its way to the ground.

While Jeongin thinks that two hearts were broken in that gymnasium, only one truly was.

And it wasn’t yours.

“So you’re saying you’re over Seungmin at this point?” Jeongin’s voice goes higher in pitch when he asks you. “Did I shoot my cupid’s arrow at the wrong person or something?”

You walk in silence for a few moments, letting the both of you ponder for a bit. How do you answer that question without obviously revealing who you truly like?

“Yah,” you ultimately avoid the question. “You never paid me back for that peach drink I bought for you.

Episode 9: Shot an Arrow at Each Other

[Chuu: i think i like him]

[You: who?]

[Chuu: jeongin]

You suck in an unexpected breath, and it’s almost as if your heart stops. Valentines Day is tomorrow, so it’s no wonder that Chuu’s coming to you for love advice. When you don’t reply, Chuu keeps sending texts.

[Chuu: i think i might confess to him on valentines]

[Chuu: and i have suspicion that he’s the one who’s been sending me love letters, but im not too sure]

You gulp, turning over onto your side and tucking yourself further into the sheets of your bed.

[You: then go for it!]

[Chuu: i would but]

[Chuu: i feel like somebody else would be happier with him]

[You: care to elaborate?]

[Chuu: i know there’s somebody else out there who could treat him better than me]

Does Chuu know? Are you that obvious?

[Chuu: y/n]

[Chuu: you have a special connection with jeongin]

[Chuu: you like him, don’t you? ^_^]

That damn emojicon. You could imagine that if this conversation were to happen in person, she would smile at your real big before dropping the bomb.

And you wouldn’t know how to respond. Because she’s right.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jeongin wasn’t supposed to be nice to you. Jeongin wasn’t supposed to save you from drowning. Jeongin wasn’t supposed to encourage you to confess to Seungmin when you still liked him, and he wasn’t supposed to buy you ice cream

But at the same time, you weren’t supposed to buy him a drink. You weren’t supposed to clean his apartment. You weren’t supposed to cook him meals willingly. You weren’t supposed to help him that much during summer break.

The two of you were supposed to just be each other’s cupid, but because you weren’t, you’ve fallen for him.

[You: but jeongin likes you]

No, you refuse. You refuse to let your emotions get in the way of Jeongin’s and Chuu’s happy ending. You refuse to let your emotions get in the way of what you and Jeongin have been striving for this entire school year. You’re better than that, stronger than that.

But why does it hurt so much?

The next day, Valentines Day, comes faster than you would’ve liked. Normally, this would be your favorite day of the year, because you liked seeing other people happy despite you being alone yourself. The outcasting you’ve put up with for the majority of your school life doesn’t bother you on this day surprisingly, as it’s always fun to see Chuu’s desk swamped with candies and anonymous letters.

It’s fun watching other people be happy.

This year, however, you’re left with a stain in your heart that you’re constantly reminded of throughout the day. Jeongin raves on about how he’s thinking about confessing to Chuu, yet you don’t have the heart or the energy to tell him that Chuu is thinking of the same thing. Then again, it’s better not to get in the way of love, right?

Chuu hasn’t spoken to you much ever since she read your final message to her last night. You don’t blame her, really, but she should do what’s best for her, not what’s best for you.

And Seungmin, to your utter shock, has been pretty chill this Valentines Day, not making a fuss over being rejected by Jihyo. Jihyo has already been abroad for several months at this point, so it’s given time for Seungmin to heal.

You make it through the day without too much distracting you, other than those thoughts buzzing in your head. The bell rings, signaling the end of the draining school day, but Chuu grabs onto your wrist and drags you into an empty classroom.

Your stomach starts churning once more when you see Jeongin and Seungmin in the room. Flinching when Chuu slams the door close a little too hard, you watch as she walks to the center of the room.

“Seungmin, you’re only here if I need backup, okay?” Chuu eases down Seungmin’s nerves, to which he responds with a nod.

“So,” Chuu takes a deep breath. “Don’t you have something to say to me, Y/N and Jeongin?”

You’re caught off guard by the sudden question. “What- What do you mean?”

Chuu only laughs, “You and Jeongin teamed up to make sure I fall in love with Jeongin this year, right?”

You and Jeongin freeze.

“And also, you tried to make Seungmin fall in love with Y/N, yes? But it didn’t work out, which brings us here,” Chuu crosses her arms over her chest. “You know, you almost did make me fall in love with Jeongin. Remember our conversation yesterday, Y/N? About how I was gonna confess to Jeongin?”

You don’t bother to move a muscle, but Jeongin, across the room from you, looks stunned.

“Well, I never bothered with that plan anymore. I realized that I only merely had a crush on Jeongin, and crushes never go that far. So with that being said-”

“Why are you... ruining everything now?” you take the chance to ask Chuu, but your question comes out in a more timid tone than you had anticipated.

“Ruining everything, you say?” Chuu scoffs. “That’s not what I’m doing here! I’m making sure everybody gets the ending they’re happy with.”

“But this isn’t how it was supposed to go!” you finally yell at the top of your lungs. “Jeongin liked you, and now you like Jeongin. The two of you already have a happy ending, why do you need to push this further?”

“Because you like Jeongin, that’s why!”

You shut your mouth before you could utter another word, panic spreading all over your body. Not even making the effort to look at Jeongin’s current expression, you raise your head up to look at Seungmin, who looks like he could offer you no help whatsoever.

It’s all falling apart.

“Y/N-” Jeongin attempts to speak, but you cut him off without realizing.

“I.. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“You’re running away, Y/N,” Chuu states, which makes you grit your teeth.

“Wait, Y/N, just listen to me-”

“Please, not now-”

“Y/N!”

Once Jeongin shouts your name, Chuu accidentally releases her grip on your wrist, and you flee the classroom, sprinting as fast as you could in your school shoes. Chuu stares at Jeongin once you swiftly exit the classroom, to which Jeongin responds by running after you, Chuu following behind right after after thanking Seungmin for being there.

“You can’t force love! You can’t make two people fall in love with each other!” Chuu tries to tell you while running through the hallways. “Love happens naturally. I might love Jeongin, but Jeongin only had a crush on me, that’s not the same!”

“So I’m willing to put aside my feelings to help two people who truly, genuinely, love each other without any doubt in their hearts! Can’t you see? Jeongin loves you, not me. And you love Jeongin, not anybody else.”

And then Jeongin snaps.

“SHE’S RIGHT!” Jeongin booms. “Y/L/N Y/N, you’re the one I love! I love y-”

But you’re already gone from their sight. The school entrance has no people around, not even a silhouette of you running in the distance. The two catching their breaths at the entrance of your high school, their shoulders slump over in defeat.

Of course, it doesn’t end there.

Hours after the incident, hours after crying over the mixed emotions you experienced this Valentines Day, your doorbell is rung. You hesitate on whether you should even answer the door in the first place, sifting through the possible scenarios in your head. Your feet answers first, though, making your way to the door before your brain could even stop your motions.

It’s a letter, and you know that handwriting.

“come upstairs!”

And despite how reluctant you are, you still head to his apartment.

Jeongin greets you at the door, still wearing his school uniform just like you. In his hand is a rubber spatula, which is somewhat odd because you’ve never seen him hold kitchen utensils unless you were teaching him how to cook.

But there’s the aroma of food coming from the kitchen, one of various vegetables, and even the smell of meat. When you turn the corner, you infer that Jeongin was attempting to cook one of your one pot pasta meals, and it seemed to be almost done.

“Honestly,” Jeongin quickly goes back to tending to his cooking. “I wasn’t even sure if you were going to come, and that would be bad because this is two servings of pasta. But I knew you wouldn’t left me hanging.”

You hum, taking a seat at the dining table that was sparkling clean (something Jeongin kept up with even after you cleaned his apartment). Jeongin brings over two plates of pasta, steam still coming off of them.

“Try it! It’s your recipe, so unless I messed up something, it should be good,” Jeongin dives in with a fork, slurping up the noodles eagerly as you do the same.

“It’s good, really good, actually,” you compliment him. “But why did you invite me over here?”

“Well,” Jeongin says with food still in his mouth, but he swallows shortly after. “This is a date.”

You almost choke on your food at the word “date” coming out of his mouth. “But what about Chuu-”

“Didn’t you hear Chuu while we were running earlier? She’s content at the fact that we’re about to become a couple. She told me that she rarely ever saw you as bright and as happy before you met me, that’s a good sign, right?” Jeongin smiles at you, and it’s that smile again.

“A good sign that...?”

“You love me too.”

You pause your movements for a full three second, before you laugh tiredly. The realization hits you while you twirl your pasta with your fork. “This is weird.”

“What is?”

“That we tried to be each other’s cupid, but ended up falling for each other instead.”

Your analogy makes Jeongin burst into laughter, nodding his head excessively. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The two of you eat Jeongin’s food in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before Jeongin speaks up again.

“Does that mean that I shot an arrow at myself then?!” Jeongin gawks at you comedically, almost making you choke on his food.

“Perhaps,” you simply shrug, leaving your, what you assume you could finally call your boyfriend, up to speculate for himself.

The cupid game was finally over, after many, many months of pinning.

And it ended with a pair of cupids, in love with each other.

it’s promo time baby!

follow my networks @fluffyskzclub and @/angstyskzclub, our members provide you with sfw fluff & angst content for you to read!

i’m starting an official taglist for my fics! there’s one for oneshots like these, and one for my stray kids ot8 reactions & scenarios! (not gonna bother with one for my blurbs, don’t waste your time on a 2 minute read fic LOL) just let me know through my inbox as to which one(s) you’d like the join.

thank you so incredibly much for reading “a pair of cupids!” this story was physically and mentally draining. i wrote the first 3 sections last week, took a 3 day break because my family visited another state, and then wrote these last 6 sections in a span of... 5 days? it was NOT FUN my back is killing me oh my gosh have mercy on me if you think this was bad

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forgiveness-in-the-misery · 3 years ago

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Nathan's Relationships

Nathan is probably the most stable of the band, but I do find when it comes to romantic relationships there's something there. He's the only member of the band that we really see have romantic relationships, the others seem content to not date or on occasion do date or want to date, but nothing that we actually get to see. Not in the way we do with Nathan through the series.

So this is more so focused on his relationships and the fact he seems to in a more subtle less open way share Toki's obsession with romance and happy endings.

If you take all four seasons, Doomstar Requiem, and bonus videos especially the Shakespeare Reading videos you can get a general idea that Nathan is strangely enough a romantic. Or at least is sort of like a teenage boy whose idea of romance is very simplistic but also rather sweet and naive.

Out of the five he is the one who is close to his parents who as far as we know remain married for most if not all of the series though we never hear for certain about that. We know his parents had a strained marriage when he was born, because they hadn't planned on having a baby anytime soon or possibly not at all. Unlike the rest of the band though it doesn't sound like his parents took this out on him as he grew up and when he talks about his childhood it sounds mostly normal at least where his home life is concerned, nothing super insane like his friends. We know his relationship with his dad was tense until he reached his adult years and they clearly finally sat and sorted through things and created a strong bond with each other by season two of the series.

In the Shakespeare reading videos Nathan talks about a lot of things....almost none of it related to the plays he's supposed to be reciting. He does mention Disney movies and his love of the reality show The Bachelorette. Disney movies are typically filled with fairytale romances that end with a guy on a white horse saving a girl and they get married and live in a castle and have babies, fairytale shit. The Bachelorette is a show where a person is tasked with picking who they are going to marry out of a group of contestants after having said contestants play ridiculous games and humiliate themselves to show they are good enough for them and each episode you can win a date and at the end of each episode somebody is kicked off....It's....gross, but a lot of people love it and see it as fairytale romantic somehow.

Nathan likes both of these things, like a lot and that's interesting to me.

I think because Nathan more or less grew up around with average parents who stayed together and kept fighting in front of him to the minimum and seemed to love each other more or less a part of him even if he isn't super open about it has always planned on getting married, just assumed that it would happen. It happened for his parents so why not him? It's a thing people seem to just end up doing and he seems like he does actually want to do it.

The problem is that....Nathan doesn't get into healthy romantic relationships. We only really see him in two romantic relationships within the show and both of them are dangerously unhealthy for him.

The first is with Rebecca who like Nathan is a celebrity, except Rebecca is a horrible violent spoiled woman from a shitty family. She's verbally abusive towards Nathan, her parents seem to just use him as a mover and don't seem to treat him like a person at all, she treats him like a prop that she screams at and at one point calls him a slur. Nathan even admits to his friends that he hates her, but he can't leave her because it's this messed up intense twisted hate and he would do anything she asked him to, and also he's scared of her. He doesn't even break up with her, she ends up in a coma shortly after calling him said racial slur and he sticks by her side....until a tennis player takes her from him. I'm going to be honest if she had woken from the coma I think she wouldn't have cared Nathan stayed by her side and she would have dumped him or went back to abusing him.

The second romance we see is in season four. He dates a fan named Trindle which is very interesting. He chose a woman who is very intensely obsessed with him which to most people is a red flag and not something you do, and it's explained as an issue of ego. Him loving that this chick worships him, but I think it's more than that.

Trindle loves him....Well technically Trindle is mentally unstable and just loves the idea of him and doesn't actually care at all about him as a person, but Nathan doesn't seem to be capable of grasping that despite his friends realizing that immediately after meeting her. As far as Nathan is concerned with Trindle she loves him, she's obsessed with him, like deeply obsessed with him so she would never insult him or cheat on him as far as he believes, he even goes out of his way to prove to his friends she wouldn't cheat on him despite him clearly knowing deep down that....she would and did.

Nathan wants to be loved, he wants somebody to love him and see him and care about him and just accept him as who he is. Rebecca was a celebrity like himself so he assumed it could work, but she saw herself as superior to him and treated him like hired help. Trindle was an obsessed fan so he assumed she would love and appreciate him no matter what since she revolved her existence around him, but she didn't care about him. At all.

This isn't....Completely coming from a place of shipping saying this, but the only stable long term relationship of any kind we see Nathan in throughout the series is with Pickles. Pickles and Nathan are seen especially by season four as the band parents, it's just a thing. Pickles and Nathan throughout the series especially by season three and four act as if they are a married couple, a couple that have been together for a very long time. Pickles is the only person we see him with through the show who accepts him as much as he can, there's things that annoy him and piss him off, but he still for the most part stands by his side until after the finale of season three when their friendship takes a major hit due to the destruction of their album.

which leads to Abigail.

Abigail like Pickles is the first person we see Nathan interact with that he connects with. She isn't an obsessed fan, she might not even be a fan of them at all. She isn't a celebrity or a socialite so she doesn't see herself above him, she sees him as her equal and a slight pain in the ass. When we see Abigail and Nathan talk it feels like how he is with Pickles when they discuss work or when they're bickering, it feels natural, and like they're a couple. When Nathan does finally get intimate with Abigail he seems to fall immediately into the mindset that they're in love, that she's his girlfriend, and that he's going to marry her and they'll have babies and be together forever.

Which is a lot considering they hooked up one time and she kept dodging his calls and texts for days after that one time, but this is Nathan and Nathan like Toki seems to throw himself hard into this concept of true love and fairytale romance where something happens between you and this other person so now you guys are destined to be together forever.

Is it realistic? God no, but it seems to be the way Nathan views romance. I think if Trindle hadn't been kind of violently unstable Nathan would have still tried to work things out with her, I mean he stayed with a woman in a coma who did nothing but abuse him. He's a very loyal person even when he really shouldn't be.

What is also interesting with all three instances is that Nathan immediately throws his friends to the side in all three cases and we see this wear on them as the series goes on.

With Rebecca while they're all pissed off and uncomfortable with his relationship with her they do end up intervening....AKA they beat the shit out of him and threaten to shoot him in the dick if he doesn't break things off with her. It is the fact they had to resort to torturing him to get him to even listen to them or explain to them why he was with a woman who made him very clearly miserable. Nathan shut himself off from his friends in favor for Rebecca.

He does the same with Trindle. he throws himself into his relationship with her and we see him almost never around his friends, he's almost always with her and when he is with his friends he has Trindle right there with him most of the time. He's clearly not okay when they try and tell him that she's dangerous and that she has a history of dating guys who look even vaguely like him and then most probably killing them. He wants to prove to them that she's innocent and she wouldn't hurt anybody and she definitely would never cheat on him and she does love him, but even when he says it he's clearly not even buying that shit himself. He just....doesn't want to accept he fucked up and that this isnt real or healthy.

With Abigail it reaches a boiling over point. He's for the millionth time destroyed another one of their albums and refused to give them the real reason or any reason at all for it, everybody in their own ways have been falling apart through season four, and then he hooks up with Abigail. Who he is determined is the love of his life and you can see Pickles pissed off about a million different things regarding Nathan and you can see the others have that clear "this is crazy" feeling about Nathan thinking he's involved with a woman who won't return his calls.

What does make Abigail different from the previous women is that she does like Nathan, she is attracted to him, and likes him as a person. The thing is though what turned her off is that he kept putting her before his friends, that he was willing to throw his band and his friends and the music to the side to pursue a fantasy with her that she never agreed to. I think if he'd not done his typical panic and throw himself head first into a full on romance with a woman he barely knows then she would have been more willing to date him. By the funeral episode she seemed interested, because he showed emotion. Because he was willing to stand there in front of a ton of people and apologize to his best friend and admit that he was being a dick and that for once he does value his friends over a girl.

Which is why I do like the concept of Abigail and Nathan as a couple because she didn't just say 'fuck it' and date him. She's into him, but she can't stand the weird celeb douche thing he does where he shuts out the people who he's known for years who do obviously care about him. She's the first woman we've seen him with who actually likes the real him, the version the other two didn't like or just didn't care about at all.

I know it's not much in terms of analysis, but it just is something I kind of noticed with Nathan that he's this awkward large metal dude who is deep down into romance and true love despite acting like he doesn't like that sort of thing. I also like the development of him finally putting his friends first instead of throwing them aside for a girl, I also totally would love Nathan, Pickles, and Abigail to have a poly relationship because y'know....sometimes that's the answer to like a lot of problems and he has great chemistry with them both.

#metalocalypse #nathan explosion

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oppatxtme · 4 years ago

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Christian Yu: Half Moon

x Christian Yu x

Note: Read at Your Own Risk ~~ (ง⌐□ل͜□)ง Type: One Shot [ masterlist ]

A/N: Hope Y’all enjoy this! Happy halloween ♥

_______________

‘This is insane. I am insane and stupid.’ Christian thought as he walked up the steps to your apartment.

He had been to your apartment at Hongdae a couple of times with the rest of the crew. But this is the first time going solo. At that moment, Christian was surprisingly nervous. He was rarely nervous. Maybe it was because besides the fact that he’s coming to your apartment alone — it is also in the middle of the night. Plus drunk. And his body is burning and want to release it to you.

‘Well, here I go.’ Christian thought as he gulped and ring the doorbell.

————

You slowly opened your eyes when you hear your doorbell chimes. When you realize you’re not dreaming and someone is actually ringing your door, you looked at the time. You groans.

You grab your pajama. Since you’re only wearing is your oversize shirt.

Before you can go and check who it was. Lisa — your roommate, was already at the monitor dedicated to seeing who’s at your front door.

“Who was it, babe?” You asked her when she looked your way.

“It’s your ex-boyfriend.” She said with a grimace expression.

For some reason, you breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t some crazy old stalker.

“Which one are we talking about?” From fear, you’re now confused.

“Mr. Christian Yu, that guy who loves touching his hair.” She said with a teasing tone.

“Aye ~! Nice to see you too Lisa.” Christian said as he reached up and touched his hair.

Lisa just smiled and walked back towards her room.

Now it was only you and Christian in the living room. Why was Christian here? And at 3 in the morning. Can you even call this morning?

You took a rather long breath to stop overthinking.

———

Christian looked at you from up and down. Again and again. Now that you’re in front of him, he was thinking that this is a mistake. A drunk decision has gone too far. But it was too late to turn back.

‘Fuck it,’ he thought. He was drunk. He was going to tell you how he felt, not let you slip away — again. He needed you to know.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You asked when he massaged his temple.

“Oh? Yeah, sorry.” Christian replied.

You walked towards the kitchen and grab some glass and poured some cold water for him.

Christian was looking at your back. You can feel it.

After he finished drinking, you invite him to your room. Thinking that whatever reason he came to your apartment — at this godly hour is not really good for Lisa to hear.

Like automatically sit at the edge of your bed. But quickly stood up. You became nervous and embarrassed for even sitting in the first place. It was supposed to be cute and casual. Like friends typically do it but you were sure it came off as uncaring and cold. And the truth was, Christian, didn’t even notice it.

Both of you stood there awkwardly for a few minutes before Christian took a deep breath in, preparing to speak.

You can see him being uncomfortable. ‘Is it wrong to invite him into my room?’ You asked your self.

You’re about to ask him but he looked at you as if he was about to say something so you stopped.

Silence.

Again, awkward.

Then both of you attempt talking first but ending up blabbering something.

You laughed. Then he joined you.

“I’m sorry Ian, what I’m trying to say is it’s good to see you... although this was certainly a surprise.”

“Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that. I just — I couldn’t wait.” Christian looked down at the carpet

“What is that couldn’t wait?” You go through your mind looking up what could it be. You tried not to, but you ended up settling on the biggest feared — insane reasons. This was a habit you had picked up growing up. ‘Think for the worst’.

“I remembered in one of your interviews, you quoted from your favorite song — ‘If you know how you feel ~ and you so clearly know what you need to say ~ I don’t think you should wait ~ I think you should speak now ~’ you said that and it got me thinking. It’s really important to take those words to heart. So I just — I needed to come here to say something I should have said a long time ago.

You smiled upon hearing him say the lyrics from your favorite song. You tried not to wince, anticipating what might be next.

“Say what Ian? Christian, is there something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong Y/N. I just — oh God! Okay ~ I’m READY.” Christian blurted out.

“What?” For some reason, your stomach filled with butterflies.

‘Ready’. The word meant a lot to both of you. Both of you had a long history with this word. There was a time when you would have killed to hear him say it.

‘I’M READY’. Now though, it was the biggest fear reasons you could think of.

“I’m ready, Y/N. I’m ready for this — for us. We broke up because I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. And I don’t just mean ready for us to talk. Hang out. And fool around... but I mean — I’m ready for us to be together-together. The hell with media! I’m ready for the fans on both sides and their options don’t bother me. They can say whatever they want to say — I’m ready for all that shit. I can handle it now, Y/N. I’ve got this. I needed you to know that I’m not messing around any longer and as I just said — I’m sorry if I kept saying this but I’m ready.” Christian didn’t look up once during he said this, for some reason he couldn’t watch you react. He was afraid that seeing your reaction could make him stop talking. And he wanted to get it all out.

But even so, he could feel you looked confused with a mix of frustration.

“And more than that,’ Christian continued. “I want to try again. I want us to really try again, now that I’m ready. I think we could really make it. I’m ready to make that shot for us.” There. He said it all. He finally looked up to see your face.

“Christian —“ you started. You stopped though. You really had to form these next sentences carefully, and Christian had his time. You can’t help but think it was unfair and insensitive of him to just go to your place at 3 am and say all these things that clearly he had time to craft these words. He didn’t even look at you when saying this. As if it was all as planned — memories for perfection.

You can’t help but think as well that he might even think through your possible responses and rehearse how to react to each one. You had none of that. No warning, none at all.

Just an unexpected late-night drunken declaration of love. Just great.

“You’re drunk, Ian and —“ you sigh.

“No. I mean, I’m drunk - but I meant what I say. All of it. Please, Y/N.” He cut you off.

With that, your ears become hot. What does he expect you to do? The nerve to come in here at your apartment and feed you a declaration of love — and even a declaration of READINESS as if the love was just implied but didn’t even need to be stated.

At least a little courtesy you’ll appreciate but no. He even goes here drunk. And say ‘please’.

‘Who did he think he was?’ You thought arching your brow.

“Excuse you Christian. Don’t bring me that ‘please’ word. I am doing the best I can with this whole situation but you’re drunk as fvck. And it’s the middle of the night. I’m not sure THIS is the best time and place to talk about this.” You said firmly.

“Why not? It’s 3 AM, the hour of feeling. Isn’t that what we call it?”

“Yeah, and I think about now, it taught us nothing good happens after 3 AM. Maybe we should stop talking at all.” Your words fell harshly. You felt bad for it but it also felt appropriate somehow.

“Who are you?”

“Seriously?!” You said setting up your defensive self ready.

“You used to be so ~” Christian searched for the words. “FREE. Yeah. That’s it. You used to be free. Free with your emotions. Your life. Your love. You used to be so free that made you optimistic. Full of hope and now what? You believe that in the hour of emotion — nothing ‘good’ happens? After the emotional time of the night sets in, good things stop and bad things begin? Is that what are you saying?” Christian looked at you as if you’re some stranger. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t — I really don’t know Ian. I”m not that girl anymore.” You felt attacked. But you didn’t feel like fighting back. So, you took the defeated tone.

Christian was having none of it. He was going to fight with you. He came all this way, he was going to properly be heard.

“Well, that’s the girl I fell in love with.” He said.

“Too bad then. I guess I’m just somebody that you used to know.” Your sarcasm rises.

“No. She’s there somewhere.” Christian said while he shook his head.

“I said no!” You now realized that he was going to make you fight with him. Your anger was possibly more directed at the instance of fighting than the fight itself.

“No.” Christian stayed firm. “I don’t accept that. Maybe you think that — but I think you’re just scared.”

You can’t help by scoffed.

“You can scoff all you want, Y/N. But I know you. There’s something you’re not saying. Possibly even to yourself. You’re scared and you’re hiding behind the change as the reason. But it was never changed. There’s a part of you missing. And I mean a part of you. We all have parts about us that change. That mature. That grow up. But at our core. Deep inside. We are who we are. You are not a different person. You’re still Y/N that I love. You’re just letting fear run your life and it’s BS!”

You are now really pissed.

“So... that’s what you came here to say. You came to my apartment. Drunk. In the middle of the night. Scared me half to death. Just to say that I’m bullshit?!”

“Fuck this. You know that’s not fucking true. You’re doing that thing again. You’re doing that again. Fuck!” Christian ball up his fist.

“What thing that I do? I’m not doing anything, Ian.” Both of you were really in it now.

After 3years of being in a relationship. Both of you were on and off. Five months ago, both of you decided to call it quits. Mainly because it was affecting your careers. He was planning on coming back to the music scene. While you and your group are releasing a comeback.

“Oh stop it Y/N. You know what I’m talking about. Look —“ Christian sigh. “I came here to tell you that I was ready for us and I still love you. That I want us to be together again. You were the one who started the BS and deflecting. Trying to pretend I didn’t mean it. You hate emotion and all that shit. I just wanted to tell you I still care and that I’m ready. And that I want to try again. If you don’t want to.” He paused and looked at you directly. “All you have to do is fvcking say it. But this shit you’re doing is making it some big ass thing and ignoring what I’ve actually said. That’s you being childish. I’m over it Y/N.”

Both of you were silent for a moment.

Letting the words sinks in.

You feel being scolded like a child. And Christian feeling sad and freaking frustrated — like a parent who just wants the best for his child. Even though the child never listened to him.

“I think that’s how I realized I’m ready. I’m over and done with the shit thing. I just want you. All of you.” He continued.

You stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. Your lips trembled. Your eyes watered. Your thoughts raced. You felt your breathing shallow the becoming quicker and more audible with every in and out of air.

You felt your heartbeat hard. As if it wants to come out from your body.

You glanced up and saw the bathroom door.

It wasn’t far from where you stand. For you, it looked as if it was an escape. You stopped thinking and in one motion you ran into the bathroom. Shut the door. There, in the emptiness of the room. Behind the safety of the door. You broke down.

Tears began to escape your eyes. Light scratches and pulls at your delicate skin began to occupy your hands.

“Y/N?” Christian was really worried. He didn’t mean to make you cry — even worst, leading you to a breakdown. He just wanted to talk. He can’t help but hate himself for what he has done. “Y/N, I’m sorry. If this is too much... but I really needed to say it. I hoped you’d know why. But yeah.”

He stopped and waiting for your answer. He heard you crying still. Breaths became deeper — as if returning to normal. He didn’t want to push it. But he was still a bit drunk. Decision-making skills were not so much his strong suit at that moment.

“I also wanted to hear your response.” Christian paused for a moment to make sure you did not get worse. You stayed silent. “I just really want us to talk — really. Without the bullshit and the walls. What are you scared of Y/N?”

You slowly get up and walk towards the sink. You looked into the mirror. You saw your reflection. A mess. Bedhead. Faded oversize shirt. Mickey mouse pajama that was a gift from Jisoo. No makeup. Eyes puffy. Cheeks shiny from the tears.

You rarely saw yourself like this. Being carried by your emotions. Even when you were at home, you tried to do your makeup, practice doing your hair, and dress up nice — just in case some crazy ex-boyfriend comes by and declare some shit at you.

You wet your face. Grab the face towel and calm yourself. Then walk towards the door and opened it.

“Do you want to know what I’m scared of, Barom Yoo?” You said, eyes locking with his. Not wavering.

He nodded in affirmation.

“I’m scared because you’re not.” You said firmly. Letting her eyes break from Christian’s.

“I’m not what?” Christian’s voice was calm. And confuse.

“Not ready.” You said quietly. Looking at the floor. You didn’t want to look at him when the words fell out of your lips. It was too much.

Christian smirked.

“Of course I’m ready. That’s why I’m here Y/N. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I understand all of that ready means — every last bit of it. I mean it. I am ready.” Christian felt his enthusiasm grow. If this was the problem — he wants to clear it. He did — after all, mean it.

You calmly shook your head.

His smirked slowly fade. His face becomes confused. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

‘Of course’. Christian thought. “But you’re not.” Christian opened his eyes and looked at you. He felt every muscle in his body relaxed — as if the secret was out.

“That’s crazy Christian. I’ve been ready. It was you —“

“No, Y/N. Stop right there. It was me, and then it was both of us. And now. It was you. It doesn’t mean anything less about you. It just means you’re not ready. And it’s a lot to be ready for. Trust me. I get it. Totally get it.”

You bit your lower lip and swallowed. You tried searching for words. But all you could find was silence. Angry. Sad. Frustrated.

“If there was anyone to be the last person to judge you for not being ready, it’d be me.” Christian continued after what felt like a silence gone on a little too long.

You blinked slowly. Your body language intensifying.

“And I mean really, you owe it to yourself more than anyone to admit that, princess.” He continued.

And there it was. You broke. Again. Into tears. In front of Christian. No more hiding.

“Okay fine.” You said between tears. “I’m not ready.” You tried looking up at him. He tried not to give you that satisfied smile of his when he called you out and kinda forced you to open up. “I’ve tried. But I’m not. You went through a lot Christian. All because of me. But I got the brunt of the hate from the fans.”

“I know,” Christian whispered.

“I don’t know if I can do that again.” Your tried hiding your crying face at him by covering it with both hands. “I can’t”.

Christian’s face was fallen. His smile faded and a look of concern had crept. Regardless of what happened here tonight between the both of you. He hated seeing you this down. But if it wasn’t him, he couldn’t help her.

“If I was going to do it again. You know it’d be with you, Barom. Right?” You looked up at him. “I mean it when I said ‘I know for me, it’s always you’. If I was ready for anyone — it had to be you, Christian.”

Christian took every word to heart. He let an audible exhale escape his body.

“I know, Princess.” He walked over to you and took you in his arms. He could see how badly you needed to be held. “I know very well, Y/N. I know.” He said reassuringly — softly. Running his hand up and down your back.

After a few minutes of this. You felt too comfortable. Too happy. Too at peace to not try something. Nothing wasn’t good enough anymore.

“Christian?” You said pulling out of the hug.

“Hmmm?” He responded, looking at you.

You pause for a moment before continuing. Trying to gain footing before you went down that rabbit hole.

“What if I —“ you stopped. Unsure if you really wanted to continue.

Christian opened his eyes wider in anticipation of what you’ll say. You somehow saw a gleam. that gleam. His beautiful brown eyes did this thing. It was mesmerizing and captivating to you.

“What if I take some time and really think about it. Like, do the work. Fight with myself — what if I get myself ready?” You smiled softly at him.

“What if what?” Christian tried his best not to be too excited. Or rather - seem too excited. He didn’t want to spook you, like what he already did tonight.

“Would you wait?” You had high hopes and low expectations. It was unfair of you to ask him. He couldn’t tell the future and know he was going to be ready when you are. You knew all of this. But you felt like you had to ask. Because what if Christian said ‘yes’. What if he would actually wait for you?

“Yes. Absolutely.” Christian said without a single waver. “I will wait for you. And I’ll try to stay ready so I am when you are. When I say I’m ready right now— I mean I’m ready for that too. I’ll wait.” He was suddenly taken with the over-assured, leading to an air of insincerity about his words.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“Always, Y/N”. Christian whispered in your ears as he hugged you again. Pulling you tight.

——

Christian left quickly and quietly. You insisted on staying for the night but he insists to go and make everyone else worry.

When he left. You sat alone in your room and looked around. You grabbed your journal. You wrong every word (lyrics) you could think of.

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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Seungkwan: Void (Part One)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, a little angst, fluff

Word count: 3,379

Summary: Seungkwan can’t resist the urge to go searching for the banshee any longer, but his trip into the woods has him coming face-to-face with a strange girl who doesn’t seem to remember anything about where she came from or how she got where she is. The only things she knows are the things the voices in her head that Seungkwan doesn’t know about tell her. And that strange girl is you, his mate.

Next | Void Masterlist

“I’m sick of this! Which one of you keeps doing this?!” Jihoon demanded, looking around at the pack with a scowl on his face.

Another night, another clap of thunder booming over the shriek from the banshee in the forest that was starting to get closer again. While the banshee was definitely more frightening than the thunder that made the house shake and woke everyone up, the latter was what was pissing everybody off because they knew it had to be somebody in the pack. Everyone just wanted to know when they’d be able to control their power.

“The lightening or the screaming?” Jia wondered.

“We know what the screaming is,” Soonyoung sighed, “Can whoever it is just hurry up and get their power already? I wanna sleep.”

“Well it’s not me,” Joshua shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.

Fingers were pointed at each other, but nobody wanted to take the blame. Even if it meant getting a new power, the pack clearly didn’t really like said power, and would definitely give the werewolf dealing with it a hard time.

“Seokmin’s always loud, so it only makes sense he’d get a loud, annoying power,” Jeonghan sneered.

“Me?” Seokmin’s eyes went wide as the older wolf glared at him accusingly. “Seungkwan’s way louder!”

“Actually, Jun is,” Wonwoo said, rubbing one eye as he leaned against the doorway.

Just then, there was another scream. Everybody clamped their hands over their ears, some of the wolves even crumpling to the ground in pain at the high-pitched noise. Yeji scurried over to Jihoon with her ears flattened on her head as she buried her face in his back and whimpered.

“Holy fuck,” Jihoon groaned once the noise had died down, “that’s the worst noise I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Hold on,” Jooyeon interrupted after she’d lifted her head and looked around, putting her hands up to signal the pack to be quiet. She stepped further into the hall, looking over to Seungkwan’s doorway – his empty doorway, “where’s Seungkwan?”

The members of the pack looked over to where he had been standing, but now was missing. Jihoon walked over and entered is room, but saw that nobody was there. Instead, he was met with a draft from Seungkwan’s open window.

“Seungkwan?” Jihoon called out the window, but there was just silence, and no sign of him outside. “Seungkwan!”

Seungkwan knew very well that the alphas wouldn’t want anyone going to look for the banshee, but his instincts were telling him to. He’d been ignoring those instincts every night, but he just had to go now. Everyone was distracted by the lightning and thunder so this was his only chance.

As soon as he was outside, he shifted to make sure he’d get away as fast as possible so that by the time anybody noticed him missing, he’d already be gone. The second scream was just lucky timing that gave him cover to leave. It hurt his ears immensely, but he had to sneak out while nobody could hear.

Despite the sudden lightning, there wasn’t any rain up until Seungkwan got deep into the forest. There was thunder grumbling somewhere far away as rain began to trickle from the sky in small drops, but the leaves still crunched under his paws as he ran toward where he had heard the noise.

As he ran further into the woods, he could smell…something. It was a smell that definitely drew him in. It almost smelled sweet; intoxicating, even. He followed it, wondering if that was where the noise was coming from. Even if it wasn’t, maybe he’d find something that could point him in the right direction.

It didn’t take long after picking up that scent to find you standing alone. You were wearing a long, tattered, dirty dress. You didn’t have shoes, your hair had leaves sticking out of it, and you were starting to get pretty wet from the rain that was picking up. You were facing away from him, but Seungkwan had already felt something just from looking at your back.

That intoxicating smell was coming from you, and he suddenly realized why it smelled so good as the rest of the world was blocked out around you: you were his mate – his mate that was lost in the woods for some reason. The question was why were you wandering around the forest at night – it wasn’t super late but it was still too dark for someone to be out here alone.

You heard a whisper in your head, ‘There’s something behind you.’

Slowly, you turned to see a large wolf behind you, it’s golden eyes following your every move. You gasped, falling to the ground in surprise. You scrambled backwards into a tree, your wide eyes never leaving the wolf in front of you.

‘I know him,’ the voice said, almost fondly.

That didn’t really make you feel any better, but it was all you had considering you were the only person out in the woods. This voice knowing this animal was your only hope at somehow staying safe. You had only recently started hearing this one voice – one of many – but this one was more prominent, and sounded too sweet to be malicious.

The wolf didn’t make any moves to attack you. Instead, it looked at you like a human would, which concerned you. He -- the voice said it was a he so you assumed that’s what the wolf was -- studied you, bowed his head, and slowly walked toward you. You couldn’t back up anymore, and you were too afraid to run because you knew it could easily catch you. So you sat as still as stone and kept your eyes on the wolf’s every move.

Slowly, it approached, until it laid at your feet. Your breath was held, waiting for its next move, but all it did was nudge your shin with its wet nose. Then it licked your knee – both of your legs were pulled to your chest in protection. Why was it acting friendly?

What happened next, you definitely didn’t expect, let alone that fact the wolf licked you: the mousy wolf shifted to a man right before your eyes. He had high cheek bones, light brown hair, and his eyes were the same gold as the wolf’s.

‘No, not a wolf,’ you corrected yourself, ‘a werewolf.’

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said softly, cocking his head to one side as he offered you a small smile. “My name’s Seungkwan; I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

You watched Seungkwan without saying anything, keeping your knees to your chest. You tried to not notice his extreme lack of clothes, focusing more on the voice you were hearing inside your head.

‘You can trust him,’ it told you softly.

‘How can I trust you?’ you quizzed, your eyebrows furrowing together.

You were too spaced out, focusing on the voice, that you didn’t even notice how cold you were. Your body was shaking, your teeth were chattering, and your lips were faintly tinted a blue-ish purple. Seungkwan frowned as he observed this.

You were pulled from your internal conversation when you felt a warm hand on your knee. You almost put your hands over his, wanting to get closer to the warmth out of instinct, but you resisted. Instead, you just looked at Seungkwan curiously, wondering how his body temperature was so warm when you were freezing out here. Then again, he did just shift from a giant animal to a man, so his temperature was the least of your worries.

“You’re shivering,” he noted quietly, the frown still on his face. “I can take you someplace warm if you’d like. Or I can bring you back home if you remember where it is.”

Slowly, you shook your head. Your voice was just above a whisper when you spoke, “I-I don’t remember how I got here…”

“Well, you should get out of the rain,” he chuckled softly.

It was then you noticed his hair was flat against his head, dripping with water. You hadn’t even noticed how quickly the rain had picked up, and how it was now pouring even through the thick forest.

“Let me help you,” Seungkwan’s voice was low and quiet as he held his other hand out to you. “You’ll freeze out here, or some wild animal will find you. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Between staying out in the forest and ensuring your death, or going with a strange man who was just a wolf a few minutes ago who may actually be telling the truth, your best bet was the strange man. You cautiously took his hand as he got to his feet, helping you up. He smiled, and you swore you heard a faint grumble in his chest – then again, it could’ve been the thunder.

“I’m going to shift back to a wolf,” he told you, “and I want you to climb on my back and hang on, okay?”

You nodded before you saw him shift back to the brown wolf from before. He laid down so it was easier for you to get on, so you straddled his back and gripped his fur at the scruff of his neck.

Seungkwan stood again before taking off back home, going slower than he had when he was going to find the banshee because he didn’t want you falling off. He was a bit disappointed he didn’t find the banshee because he wanted to ask her what her deal was, but he found his mate, which was better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Truthfully, Seungkwan was lonely. Seeing his brothers finding their mates made him a little depressed, and he wanted someone of his own he could hold and make happy as much as they’d make him happy. Finally, he would have that. You were going to fill that little space in his heart that he felt was missing.

You kept your face down so the rain wouldn’t pelt it, your eyes squeezing shut. Seungkwan’s fur was quickly becoming just as soaked as your clothes were, and the smell of wet dog became very prominent. Still, you held on with whatever strength you had left in your body.

It didn’t take very long for Seungkwan to reach the large house. He lowered his body so you could climb off, and then he shifted back to his normal self. You assumed you were at the backdoor of the house considering the large space and the gardens.

“We’ll have to be quiet or my pack will wake up,” he whispered, taking your hand in his and pulling you toward the door. “I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“P-pack?” you stammered.

Seungkwan turned around, a finger pressed to his lips, “I promise I’ll explain after I get you inside, but you need to be quiet for now.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause more trouble for yourself.

Seungkwan grabbed what the pack called ‘the emergency shorts’ from by the backdoor. He tugged them on before leading you inside, keeping his movements completely silent. He knew a human wouldn’t be as stealthy as him, so he lifted you in his arms with minimal warning. You inhaled sharply out of surprise, but didn’t make any noise other than that, your arms wrapping around his neck in case he dropped you – that was definitely something you were afraid of.

He easily weaved through the dark house even though there was no light. Seungkwan saw perfectly even without any light, but you were completely lost. You didn’t know where you were until a light was turned on after a moment, and you saw you were in a bathroom. The door closed softly, and Seungkwan set you on your feet before going to the shower and turning it on.

“I’ll bring you a change of clothes,” he promised, going back to the door. “They’ll be a little big because they’re mine, but…they’re dry and clean.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled shyly.

“Of course,” he grinned a bright smile before leaving the bathroom to go get clothes.

Seungkwan went down the hall to his room to grab some clothes like promised. However, his room wasn’t empty like he left it. Jihoon was sitting on his bed, staring at the open window before his eyes shifted to the younger werewolf.

“Who did you bring home?” the alpha questioned.

“How did you–”

“I’ve been awake since Jooyeon realized you left,” Jihoon informed him, standing up and walking over to Seungkwan. “I heard you outside when you came back.”

“There was a girl in the woods, and…” Seungkwan trailed off, a smile taking over his face as he thought about you, “I imprinted on her.”

“Of course you did,” Jihoon sighed, shaking his head although he was laughing. “What’s her name?”

“I have no idea,” Seungkwan admitted, slipping passed the alpha to get clothes from the closet. “She’s in the shower right now – poor thing’s freezing.”

“Do you know how she got there?”

“She doesn’t even know. I don’t want to push her for information, though. She seems pretty afraid, but that’s expected.”

“You did shift in front of her,” Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t blame her for being scared. Just…keep an eye on her. We don’t need another Jooyeon situation.”

“She won’t run away, Hoon,” Seungkwan assured him, grabbing a shirt he was sure would be long on you since he wasn’t sure if his bottoms would fit you correctly. “She doesn’t know how to get home. I’ll see about somehow getting her into town to see if she remembers how to get home from there.”

Jihoon just nodded, going to exit Seungkwan’s room, “Good luck with that, Seungkwan. Go get back to your mate.”

“Not so loud,” the younger boy whined, going to bring the clothes to the bathroom. “I didn’t really explain…anything.”

“Considering how well the rest of you have explained imprinting to your mates,” Jihoon joked, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re all hopeless.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seungkwan shot back. “Yeji can back me up, too.”

As Jihoon disappeared back into his room with an amused chuckle, Seungkwan went straight to the bathroom, knocking softly twice before he entered. He was surprised to find you still in your clothes, but he understood when he saw you staring at yourself in the mirror, picking leaves out of your hair. He laughed softly, going behind you to help.

You let your hands drop to your sides as you studied Seungkwan in the mirror. His eyes were a warm gold that were somewhat comforting to look at, and the warmth his body emitted made you want to back up into him and use him as a human blanket.

“Seungkwan,” you spoke up, though your voice was soft, “what…are you?”

Seungkwan continued to untangle a leaf from your hair, and didn’t speak until he had dropped it in the sink, “In short: I’m a werewolf.”

“I didn’t know werewolves existed,” you admitted. “I thought werewolves were just scary stories.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that scary, am I?”

“Not really,” you decided with a sheepish smile. “I did think you were going to eat me, though.”

‘Well…’ Seungkwan tried to not smirk to himself.

“One of our alphas has a mate who thought we were going to eat her, too,” he chuckled, remembering the fight Jooyeon put up against the pack – specifically Seungcheol – for a long time. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to be that guarded. “She’s gotten used to us, though. She’s very comfortable here.”

“A…mate?” you repeated. “What’s that?”

He took the time to explain how imprinting worked, what a mate was, and every question you had about werewolves. He spent the time picking leaves out of your hair while he spoke and you took in information. Throughout his explanation, you could hear faint voices in the back of your head, but you chose to ignore them this time in favor of listening to Seungkwan. He cracked a few jokes to make you feel at ease, and you found yourself smiling a lot more, even as he excused himself to find some clean towels.

You stripped yourself of your sopping clothes, leaving them on the sink before getting in the shower. The hot water made the tips of your fingers and toes burn from how cold you were in contrast, but you enjoyed it. The water relaxed your tense muscles and warmed you quickly.

Seungkwan entered the bathroom again, leaving the towels on the short rack across from the sink before he took your clothes and left to put them in his laundry basket. He then went to make some tea before you got out of the shower so he could at least get something warm in you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to feed you – well, he’d make sure that somebody who made food better than him fed you.

When he went back to the bathroom and knocked, you opened the door wearing the shirt Seungkwan had given you. He grumbled happily as he looked you over, loving that you were wearing his clothes.

“Feel any better?” he asked as he handed you the mug.

You let your hands wrap around the sides to warm them more, “Yes, thank you.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little.”

He had checked the time and it was almost 2am, so he was shocked you weren’t more tired than you seemed. He gestured with his head for you to follow before leading you down the hall. Your bare feet padded against the hardwood as you sipped your tea, sniffling because of your drippy nose. Seungkwan obviously heard and turned around, pulling his sleeve down to wipe your nose before he opened the door.

“You didn’t have to–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisked, putting a finger to your lips, “don’t worry about it.”

You noticed Seungkwan was a bit more touchy, but you didn’t mind it. You were still a bit chilly, and Seungkwan’s heat was something you wanted to stay close to.

Seungkwan gestured for you to go into his room, so you did. He didn’t bother turning the light on since you were going to sleep anyway, but you could see his bed from the light that came in from the hallway. You went straight to the bed and sat down, still sipping the tea that was given to you.

Seungkwan closed the door, easily walking over to the nightstand and turning on a lamp. He sighed as he sat down beside you, one hand running through his hair, “We can’t really go into town, but I’ll find someone who can go with you to bring you home.”

You knew you couldn’t stay with the pack – Seungkwan was just a nice werewolf that had saved you from probably dying in the forest later – but you didn’t know how to tell him that you really didn’t remember how to get back. So instead, you just nodded, “Okay.”

“Do you want to sleep now?” he offered.

“I’m not terribly tired,” you shrugged, taking another sip of your drink.

“We can talk a bit more if you’d like.”

So you did. He told you about the pack, the mates, and a few of the things they were going through, like the half-cat girl that lived with them and the couple that had a baby together that he warned you might cry at any moment. He explained that some of the pack also couldn’t go into town anymore -- one of them being an alpha named Soonyoung who used to go into town at night for hookups before coming home. He also warned you about the sudden thunder that might wake you up, but he hoped not because it had already happened once earlier. This pack was certainly something, as Seungkwan had plenty of stories to tell you about.

Beside you, you could feel the warmth from Seungkwan’s body. He really was like some kind of space heater. You found yourself leaning into him until your head was resting on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he put an arm around you, resting his cheek against your head, and that was how you eventually fell asleep.

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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The Wolf

Summary: You can't help that you're unaware of the thick scent you're letting off. But Flaco is aware. Flaco is well aware and he's going to do something about it.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x f!Reader

Word Count: 3817

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Slight A/B/O/ dynamics, Marking, Manhandling, Creampies, Scenting, Pred/Prey, Height differences, Size kink, Multiple orgasms, Knotting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Mating.

Notes: Ugh, another Flaco fic?? YES. I've always had a pred/prey vibe from big Flaco, but that vibe went off the rails during that cutscene where Flaco calls himself 'the wolf,' so I just HAD to write this ;:)

It came to you as a surprise when Flaco told you that he'd be joining you for today's mission. "I'm bored and staying in this cabin is driving me crazy," he explained whilst shoving his knife into its holster and shooing you out the cabin, following closely behind. You had no idea that he even owned a horse, who happened to be hitched in the forest behind his cabin this whole time; he's just as stocky as Flaco with thick fur keeping his hooves warm. Flaco seemed to be in a rush today, despite knowing that the mountain men you were going after wouldn't be leaving any time soon. "Have you found those tracks? Come on, let's go. I've found some here but we can't split up. C'mon, hurry up," he'd barked over and over, making your brows furrow. For once, Flaco was being annoying, he seemed on edge, like something was getting under his skin and he just couldn't shake it off. The first victims had been found and you and Flaco took cover behind a boulder on the other side of the river. Of course, you were intrigued to see how legendary his skills were. He assumed that you'd be taking the first shot, but once he saw the way you were crouched patiently beside him, looking up at him with excitement in your eyes, he felt his ego filling up and just had to impress you.

"Oh, you want to see what old Flaco can do with this thing, huh?" Flaco said as he lined up his rifle. "Watch and learn, chiquita." He took his time to shoot, clearly irritated at something; his finger continued to brush over the trigger but struggled to pull it, his eyes often locking on to yours as embarrassment began to cross his face. He missed. And he continued to miss almost all of his shots, growing more irritated by the second. By the time you found the last victims, Flaco had stormed ahead up the mountain with his sawn-off shotgun, blowing open the chests of those men. That's what they deserve for stealing off him. The ride back was almost silent. You had opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, only managing to say "are" when Flaco had cut you off and quietly mumbled "I'm fine," dipping his head down so the brim of his sombrero covered most of his face. "I wasn't expecting you to be the one to save my ass," Flaco told you as you both entered his cabin, stomping off the snow on your boots then stretching your hands out over the fire. You noticed that Flaco didn't go over to his usual place, instead, he leaned back against the pole in the middle of the room. His arms were crossed, eyes darting around the room before flicking them over to meet yours. "What's wrong?" you asked him. You thought he'd go on a tangent about whatever was winding him up, he's just an old man who loves to moan about everything and you enjoy it, though you have to hold back your laughter as he gets upset over the littlest things. "You," Flaco had replied, making your eyes go wide as you straightened up your back. You opened your mouth to begin apologizing for whatever you must have done wrong, but Flaco waved his hand before returning it to his crossed arms. "It's not your fault, you can't help it. Hell, you're probably not even aware of it," Flaco grumbled. Flaco stood up from his leaning position, taking a step over to you as he relaxed his hands by his sides. You turned slightly, moving a step away from the fire, your toes almost stepping on Flacos as you stand in front of him. That's where you are now, awkwardly standing there, looking up at a man twice the size of you. He's not exactly scowling, his brows are always slightly furrowed and he always has that pissed off expression, but you notice that there's definitely concentration in his face as he studies you. "You don't know what's wrong, do you?" Flaco questions. You shake your head innocently, worried that this is it; Flaco's finally fed up with you and is planning how to finish you off. "Hmm. As I said, you're probably not even aware," Flaco grumbles, walking past you and over to the door. He pushes his foot against it, jamming it fully shut and locking it. Has there always been a lock? You've never noticed that before? Your stomach begins to turn as Flaco turns back to you. Why did he lock the door? And why are you taking a few small steps back the more he comes towards you? He looks menacing, this giant of a man who's taking his time to pace over to you. Your ass bumps against something and you turn to see that you're now leaning back against his table with nowhere else to go. As you turn back, your gaze meets Flaco's who's almost got his chest pressed against yours. "I'm not going to hurt you," he tells you in a surprisingly soft voice, well aware of your panicked expression. "Chiquita, calm down. Flaco just wants to help," he tells you, calming your nerves. "What is it?" you ask him, still running through every recent interaction to pick out anything that might have upset him, but you find nothing. Flaco goes to dip his head down to speak more directly to you but he quickly straightens his back up, nostrils flaring as he looks around the room. He's got that irritated expression again, something's clearly still crawling under his skin. Flaco turns back to you and grumbles "you stink." Was that it? Did you smell? Was he so worked up because you hadn't had a bath today? You were a clean person, bathing regularly for somebody who's almost always on the road, but it clearly wasn't good enough for Flaco. He notices the way your head is tilting to the side and corrects himself. "I mean, you don't stink... you're clean, but..." Flaco attempts to explain, his hands moving as he talks. "That smell you're letting off, it's... distracting. I haven't smelt anything like that in such a long time, mostly because I never get any visitors up here, especially not ones who are clearly in heat," Flaco tells you, resting one hand gently on your hip as he speaks down to you. In heat? Oh shit. Your supplements had worn off without you somehow noticing, but Flaco had noticed. Flaco had definitely noticed. And it had been distracting him this whole time. That explains why he seemed so eager to get out of this little cabin with you, you were probably stinking up the room when you innocently came asking for more work. And he couldn't focus on any of his shots as you were stood beside him the whole time, batting your lashes at him as if nothing was wrong. Flaco notices how you're piecing everything together, finally understanding that your smell has been the thing under his skin this whole time. "As I said, you were probably not aware. Those supplements can really mess up your own sense of smell, huh?" Flaco says with a gentle laugh. You have no idea how he's aware that you were taking supplements, but it's not hard to work out if you're so unaware of your own scent. "Yeah, I didn't know. Sorry," you tell him. You were well aware of his hand on your hip, but you'd only just realized how big it felt on you, almost as if he could wrap both of his hands around you. It's probably your heat warping your sense of reality, but you can't admit that it's not a nice feeling. A very nice feeling, that feeling growing even more as you look back up at Flaco and meet his warm amber eyes. "You're not going to calm down, are you?" Flaco asks as he twitches his nose. He's clearly trying to hold himself together, suppressing the urge to scoop you up and fix that problem between your legs himself. You're surprised he has so much self-control as other men that you've met in the past would have pounced on you the second you walked in all those hours ago. "I-" you go to speak, but a feeling between your legs cuts you off. Flaco's pushed his thigh between your legs, settling it gently against your crotch, and you find your hips slowly rutting against it. Your arousal is refusing to go down, your scent stinking up the room and you're finally aware of how badly you smell. Flaco's at his limit, tightening his grip on your hip as his other hand comes up to remove his hat, chucking it over to the chair he always sits on. Surprisingly warm lips are pressed against your neck, his moustache brushing against your skin in such a way that your senses begin to heighten. Your body feels so sensitive, picking up on every little thing Flaco does as you continue to rut against his thigh. Flaco bites down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and the whimper you let out makes his head spin and his cock throb in his pants. "I'm going to take you," Flaco grumbles against you as he continues to kiss along your neck. "I haven't felt like this in so long. You think you can just waltz in here, stinking up the place, and expect old Flaco not to fill you up, eh?" Another hand on your hip cuts off whatever you were about to reply, and Flaco begins rolling your hips for you, grinding your crotch down hard on his thigh. The seam of your pants is rutting against your clit aggressively, building your orgasm the more he ruts you. Another mark is left on your neck, followed by a trail more; he's marking you, letting everybody know that you're his, that you belong to the Terror of the Grizzlies. And there isn't a single soul out there who would risk trying to snatch you away from such a man. Flacos head lifts up so he can finally kiss you, hungrily licking and nipping at your lips, turning them redder the more he kisses you. You break the kiss with a whimper, your head leaning forward to mewl in the curve of his neck as you grip onto his thick fur coat. "Good girl," Flaco praises you in such a perfectly husk voice that it pushes you over the edge, soaking your pants and dripping onto Flacos as you cum on his thigh. Flaco moves one of his hands off your hip so he can begin to palm at his own erection, and you catch the sight in the corner of your eye. He's just as thick as you thought, his cock pressed deliciously against the tight fabric of his pants. "You like what you see?" Flaco asks with a chuckle, noticing the way you're hungrily staring. at him. "Come on," Flaco says as he moves his thigh from you, pulling you over to the bed. "Get undressed," Flaco orders you, turning his attention to the fire. He chucks another log on it, trying to keep his cabin warm, despite it already being toasty in here. Flaco turns to see you pulling your undergarments off, letting them slip down your legs and fall to the floor. He licks his lips at the sight, yourself in the nude waiting patiently for his next command. Flaco kisses you again as he lays you down, your head settling on the pillow. His hands trail gently over your body, admiring every bump and curve, brushing over your nipples, and kneading at your thighs. He pulls off his gloves, chucking them to the floor, then runs his middle and trigger finger over your folds, chuckling as he admires how soaked you are. The sensation of your heat becomes painfully obvious the second Flaco touches you down there, your thighs instantly twitching as he continues to run his fingertips across your folds. You only have to sigh his name once for him to realize how desperate you are, sinking his fingers into you, two of them at the same time as he knows you can take it. They curl deliciously, almost instantly finding your g-spot. He massages the pads of his fingers over that spot, enjoying the way you squirm underneath him, your scent almost clouding his vision as his own cock throbs in his pants. "Mierda," Flaco sighs as you let out a whimper that makes his head spin. "I need to be inside of you," he announces as he slips his fingers from you, leaving you empty for a few short moments. You shuffle up onto your elbows, watching Flaco unbutton his pants and pull his throbbing length out. He's just as gorgeous as you imagined, his length agonizingly thick with a soft red tip, precum already trailing down your shaft. He's in too much of a rush to remove any more of his clothes, but the image of him fully clothed whilst you're in the nude is playing on that prey instinct inside of you. Flaco places one of his large paws on your hips, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he begins to push his thick member into you. He's almost painful, making you gasp and moan as he slowly slides in, his eyes fixated on watching his length disappear inside of you. Once he's fully sheathed inside of you, he holds himself there for a few moments, letting out heavy pants as praise begins to flow from his lips. "Good girl. Taking me all the way in on your first go. That's my girl, isn't it?" Flaco mutters, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tries to hold back from thrusting into you, knowing that you need a few seconds to get used to his size. Flaco knows you're ready when you begin to whimper beneath him. He pulls his cock almost all the way out and slams down into you, pushing the air from your lungs, making your eyes scrunch shut as you let out a sound that makes Flacos instincts spin. He doesn't bother with slow and tender thrusts; he needs you, and he needs you now. His length begins to pump into you, continuing to push those sounds from you. Flaco has needed you the second you stumbled into his cabin, only he's been able to suppress those feelings, up until your scent accidentally flared up earlier. Your hands trail over his body, gripping onto his biceps, clinging onto his bandoliers, settling around his neck. You're a whimpering mess beneath him and Flaco both loves and hates the sight. "Stop squirming," he mutters as he continues thrusting into you. "Be good for me and take it, alright?" he orders. Flaco lets out a chuckle as he feels your walls clench around him from the way he's speaking to you. The room is already too hot for you even though you're in the nude, but you've noticed the way Flaco's beginning to sweat. He doesn't stop his thrusting as he straightens up his back and begins to swing his bandoliers over his shoulders, chucking them to the floor, eventually followed by his coat. He almost ripped his coat off, quickly becoming frustrated by all the fastenings, but he managed to eventually undo it. Flaco is left in his white undershirt and green bandana, his body radiating more heat than you've ever felt. He dips back down, towering his body over you, his head leaning down to continue leaving marks along your neck. Flaco had always told himself that he'd never mark anybody again, especially not in his 'old' age, but it's hard not to make you his own when you're mewling underneath him. "Mierda," Flaco grumbles again, leaving his head in the curve of your neck. His cock feels heavy, his balls slapping against you with every thrust; you know he's close. "I need to cum inside of you, alright? But I won't be giving you any little ones, I'll make sure of it," Flaco tells you as he dips his head up to meet yours, planting a quick kiss to your lips as he speaks. You've heard that some men are able to do this though you always doubted it, but you trust Flaco with your life, so you trust his word. Once you've managed to nod in agreement, Flaco grins and picks up the pace, making you whimper again as you had no idea he could go that fast. He's complained about his age before, saying his bones ache and his joints feel creeky, but you had no idea that when fueled by lust, Flaco could ignore his age and fuck like this. It boosts your ego, knowing you're the one who's turned him into this beast of a man. Flaco lets out a choked moan as he cums, filling you to the brim, making your walls tighten around him just from the sensation. He rests his head on your chest, panting and moaning, letting out a string of phrases in his mother tongue, though you're unsure of what he's saying. He whimpers against you for a good few moments, collecting himself and eventually lifting his head off your chest so his eyes can meet yours. Flaco dips his head down to kiss you, his breaths are still heavy but not enough to distract the kiss. As he breaks away, he sits upright and peels his shirt off after unfastening his bandana, throwing them to the floor. He finally reveals his stocky build to you, well-toned muscles with a thick coat of chest hair that trails down to his stomach and settles around the base of his cock. He leans down to kiss you again, moving his hands from your hips to wrap your legs around your waist. You know this isn't over. "I'm not done with you yet," Flaco confirms, large paws wrapping around your waist as Flaco pulls you up with him, carrying you over to the cabin wall. You can feel his load dripping from you as his cock slams into you again, making you let out a whimper. "Don't worry, chiquita. There's plenty more where that came from," Flaco says with a laugh, moving his mouth down to leave another mark on your neck. As Flaco pulls off your neck he gazes at the sight, enjoying the thick spread of purple marks across both sides of your neck. Anybody who goes near you will know damn well who you belong to; the other strangers you work for, the general store clerks, the stableboys, even the strangers on the streets. And that's exactly how Flaco likes it. You're his and his only. Flaco begins to thrust into you again, working your sensitive pussy so he can begin building another climax. His thrusts are a little slower this time, more focused on admiring you as his eyes meet yours. "You're my chiquita buena, aren't you?" Flaco asks, his grip tight on your ass as he holds you firmly against the wooden walls. "I am," you nod in agreement, enjoying the way Flacos expression turns into a cocky smile. "Go on, tell me," Flaco orders you. "I'm yours. I'm Flaco's girl," you repeat, making Flaco grin even more. "If you're my girl then who does this pussy belong to, eh?" Flaco questions. "You," you tell him. "But who am I chiquita?" Flaco asks. You remember a term that Flaco's called himself before, something that you thought was a joke, but it seems he meant it. "You're the wolf," you reply. "Very good, I'm the wolf," Flaco repeats with a chuckle. "And what do all those marks on your neck mean?" "That I'm yours, that I belong to the wolf," you confirm. "So good. So good for Flaco, aren't you? So good for the wolf," Flaco hums as he begins picking up the pace, pushing the air from your lungs as he begins pounding you again. The noises that both of you are letting out are loud enough to scare away any nearby bears; hopefully, Flaco won't have to deal with them for a while. You're a sticky mess between your legs, Flaco's fucking his former load from you, oozing from your pussy and dripping down onto his balls. Neither of you seems to mind, especially since Flaco had promised that he'd replace that load with a fresh one. For a man that always seems so grumpy, he's pulling some gorgeous faces; cheeks a vibrant red, mouth constantly parted, hair trailing over his eyes and slowly falling forward from his slicked-back style. It feeds your ego knowing that you have the pleasure of seeing him like this - you and only you. Flaco dips his head down to give you another kiss, his moustache prickling your lip in a way that feels oh-so-sensitive. "Flaco," you sigh as you break the kiss, his eyes meeting yours. "I know, I know. My chiquita is close, isn't she?" Flaco asks. All you can do is nod in agreement as you dip your hand between your legs to begin rubbing your clit, making your thigh muscles twitch, wrapped around Flacos stocky waist. Flaco hums at the sight, praising you, encouraging you. "You'll cum for Flaco, won't you?" he asks, and pleasantly hums again when you confirm that you will. "Ladies first," Flaco tells you, placing a kiss underneath your jawline, right on that sensitive spot that makes your head spin. Within a few more thrusts you're clenching around Flacos length, exhaling heavily as you enjoy another orgasm, your walls tightening almost painfully around Flacos thick length. Flaco lets out a grunt as he pushes his length all the way in and fills you up again, scrunching his eyes shut and burying his head in the curve of your neck, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. You feel the way Flacos cock swells up, your walls tightening a little too tightly, and the both of you know you're going to be stuck like this for a while. Neither of you mind and Flaco lifts his head up to brush his hair from his eyes and give you a tender kiss. He carries you back over to the bed, laying you down and managing to kick off his pants and boots. Thick furs are wrapped around you as you're pulled onto Flacos chest, your cheek resting against his pecs as his arms cradle you tenderly. Not many words are exchanged apart from the occasional "are you comfortable?" from Flaco, and you quickly find yourself lulling off to sleep, Flaco following shortly after as his body heat and the roaring fire keeps you warm throughout the cold night.

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c-estmabiologie · 4 years ago

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nine terrible cups of tea (and at least one equally terrible cup of coffee) | the haunting of bly manor fic

Dani tries to master the art of making a proper cup of tea. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. (1987 - 1994)

Also on AO3!

One

“Really you could just throw a tea bag into your mug, pour some water on top, and call it a tea. But we’re better than that.”

Dani isn’t convinced but she tries her best to follow the steps as Jamie patiently describes them. She talks about making tea with the casual confidence of someone who believes that Dani can will a good cup of tea to exist. As if this isn’t the first time that she has tried to hold Dani’s hand through the process. Dani’s pretty sure it won’t be the last time either, but she tries to wield some of Jamie’s confidence as her own.

“If you want to be really proper, you can even warm the pot first with some hot water from the kettle and, you know, just dump it down the sink.”

Dani swirls the hot water around inside her teapot, feels it warm under her palms. It’s nice. Wasteful, but nice.

“What does this do?”

“No idea. Somebody probably decided that it makes the tea taste better.”

“Okay,” She drops two teabags in. One for herself, and one for the pot, according to Jamie who’s not leaving tea totally up to chance and Dani’s efforts; her arm is soft and cool against Dani’s as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder at their kitchen counter, each with their own pot of steeping tea.

“Now here’s where you might make a mortal enemy of a Brit: adding milk to your cup before or after the tea.”

“Does it have to have milk?” Dani asks, thinking Aren’t there people who drink their black tea black, like coffee? That’s a thing, right?

Dani can feel Jamie twitching a smirk beside her without having to look.

“It has milk if you’re making English tea.”

She remembers the looks she got from Hannah and Owen and even the children whenever she’d made an attempt at tea. She can’t remember when she’d added the milk. Jamie, for sure, must be exaggerating the offense.

"But which one’s the right way?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really care as long as it’s the right amount of milk.” Dani realizes that Jamie’s already gone ahead and poured her own cup without her, milk and all, and she’s missed it. She pours her own tea and splashes in milk until its colour matches the tea in Jamie’s cup.

They look the same to Dani.

“Alright,” Jamie says, “let’s have a taste shall we?”

They taste the same to Dani, but Jamie’s brow furrows just a little as she takes the cup away from her lips. And then she starts laughing.

“Okay, how is that possible? We did the exact same thing!” Dani takes another sip from her own cup to prove her point. It tastes fine! It’s tea!

“I really have no idea, Dani,” Jamie’s still laughing. “You’re just shite at making tea.”

Two

Jamie's been trying to relax with a book in the bedroom when she hears the beeping coming from another room. Just three little beeps, then nothing. A minute later, the three beeps chirp through her focus again.

When it happens a third time, she finally puts down the book to shout.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” comes Dani’s reply from across the apartment. Then the beeps make themselves known once more.

Then: “Oh. It’s the microwave. I got distracted.”

Owen had bought them a microwave as a housewarming gift. It was a convection microwave, he’d told them proudly, which apparently made it special because you could microwave your food on a metal tray if you wanted. The idea was that they could warm up their takeaway faster, or cook frozen dinners (Owen’s very generous way of chiding them for both being awful cooks). Jamie hated it. It was big and ugly and had faux-wood paneling on the side. She’d rather stick to making burned stews on the stovetop.

Dani appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. She holds out one mug to Jamie.

“I made you tea.”

“What, in the microwave?”

Dani shrugs and sips from her mug.

“No.”

“It’s fine—”

“Absolutely not.”

Three

It’s a quiet-ish day at The Leafling and, to be honest, Dani is sort of enjoying the peace of arranging flower displays and curling ribbons. The sun is warm through the windows.

Jamie is laid up in bed with some sort of cold. She’s being a surprisingly big baby about it, too, Dani is surprised to realize. Her wife doesn’t like it when she can’t be useful.

Speaking of certain wives who shouldn’t be up, Dani can hear steps coming down the stairwell that connects the shop to their apartment. The shop’s back door pushes open a moment later and Jamie appears with jacket on and her curls stuff up into a hat. She’s pale and her nose is pink and tender-looking around the nostrils.

“What are you doing down here?” Dani demands in her most teacherly voice, but Jamie clearly has plans to go out, not back upstairs.

Jamie’s voice is raspy and hoarse.

“I need to go out to the shops and get some more milk. Ours is off.”

“I had some in my cereal this morning and it was fine.”

Jamie coughs into her collar.

“The date on it’s fine. But I add it to my tea and it’s curdled.”

“Oh.” Dani’d left the tea steeping for her before she’d come downstairs.

Then: “It’s probably the lemon doing that. In your tea, I mean.”

“There’s lemon in my tea?”

Dani nods. “There’s honey in it, too. It’s supposed to help with your sore throat.’

Jamie sighs, then sniffles, then seems to deflate a little.

“I’m gonna be honest: it sounds absolutely disgusting.”

But Dani insists that she at least give it a try (without milk), that it will make her feel better (it does, a little, admittedly), and that, who knows, she might like it (she does not).

Four

Summer heat hits hard, and The Leafling doesn’t have air conditioning. The ceiling fans do nothing more than push hot air around the shop. The plants slump in their pots (which annoys Jamie), and fat houseflies keep finding their way indoors, only to bang themselves relentlessly against the windows until they fall dead on the sills (which annoys Dani). Everything is slightly damp with sweat or condensation.

“This is something my ex-almost mother-in-law used to make,” Dani says, stirring the ice around in the pitcher with a wooden spoon.

“You know there’s probably a less complicated way to say ‘ex-almost mother-in-law’.” Jamie says. Her hair is sticking to her neck, and her gardening gloves feel like they’re being peeled off of her skin as she takes them off.

“She used to make it for my, you know, Eddie and me in the summer when we were kids,” Dani hesitated. “I don’t know. It just always reminds me of the best parts of summer.”

But when she looks up Jamie has a glass and is holding it against her cheek.

“You know,” she says, “I do know what iced tea is. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

Jamie is thoughtful as she drinks the tea slowly.

“So,” she says finally. “This is what makes Poppins think of summer.

“It’s kind of a funny taste isn’t it? Cold tea on purpose.”

Jamie gets up and pulls Dani into a hug that’s nice, but not altogether pleasant — their skin clings together and comes apart audibly in the heat and they both smell very strongly of themselves.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Jamie says into her shoulder.

“I’m going to go upstairs and put the kettle on.”

Five

“What is it?”

The gift sits on their kitchen counter, out of place and mysterious with its glass-and-stainless steel modernity next to their wooden cutting boards, cluttered and kind of oily spicy jars, and that obnoxious faux-wood panelled microwave.

“Owen says it’s a French press. He was really excited about some Danish company. Said it’s apparently great for beginners.”

Jamie makes a note to herself to somehow ask Owen to stop giving them gifts for their kitchen.

“I didn’t think Owen drank coffee.”

Dani looks thoughtful, “I don’t think he does.”

Owen’s gift doesn’t come with instructions, and neither one of them wants to ring Owen up to ask for help. Dani takes charge, grinding the coffee beans (which Owen had also generously provided) in the spice grinder… and then washing out the grinder and starting again when Jamie points out that the fresh grounds reek of coriander.

They aren’t sure if they’re supposed to give it all a stir once the water’s been added. Or when to press the plunger. Or how long it’s supposed to sit. Their first attempt produces faintly coffee-flavoured water. Their second, a grainy, chewable mess.

The French press gets relegated to a high shelf above the stove, behind a fern. Eventually it will pinch-hit as a flower pot and Dani will love how the glass reveals the root systems buried in the soil.

Six

“This tea tastes weird.”

It’s Dani who says it.

Jamie looks up from the arrangement she’s been working on. It’s wedding season and The Leafling has been swamped with orders for bouquets and table arrangements. Jamie’s been going back and forth on this particular order all week with a bride who seems unhappy no matter how precisely she tries to follow the bride’s vision. Frankly, it’s been pissing her off (the last time she’d come in and rejected Jamie’s work, Dani had sensibly stepped in to take over the conversation before Jamie could get their shop shut down for punching a customer).

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally drink vase water?”

She picks up her own cup and takes a sip. The milk must have been added too soon and seized up the brewing. The tea tastes like nothing. Dani is watching her.

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.”

Dani says nothing.

“Oh shut up. I’m allowed to have off days, too, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Dani says, but she’s smiling.

Seven

Jamie somehow manages to drink vase water.

Neither of them can explain how it got into her tea cup or where her actual tea had gone.

Eight

“Hey.”

The word is spoken into Jamie’s hairline and followed with a kiss. She smiles, half-awake, and reaches to pull Dani to her so she can kiss her properly. Her hand jostles a tray and something makes a precarious, jangling sound.

“What’s this?” she rubs at her eyes. It’s still mostly dark in the room.

“You’re up early.”

Dani’s at the side of their bed with a serving tray. She’s barefoot, still in her pyjamas and, from what Jamie can tell, still pretty sleepy herself.

"What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Dani places the tray on the bed and climbs in next to Jamie slowly, careful not to tip anything on the tray.

"I just thought it would be nice to have the morning together. I bought scones.” Dani warps her voice around the word in a way that is definitely not the American pronunciation, but just as definitely not a passable approximation of Jamie’s accent. As Dani hopes it would, it makes Jamie smile.

“I see that. Scones.”

“Mm-hmm. And biscuits,” Dani never could manage that one without the secret sort of laugh that says that the Rich Tea biscuit that she’s picking up off a plate will only ever be a cookie to her.

It’s all lovely. The biscuits, the morning, Dani: lovely.

And then, of course, there is the matter of the tea.

A few problems that meet Jamie immediately as she takes a tentative sip. First, it’s cold. Second, even with what looks like an alright amount of milk (Jamie notes that Dani’s been getting better on this front)...it’s bracingly bitter.

She bravely takes another sip to avoid spoiling the otherwise perfectly cozy moment. Something solid dislodges itself from the bottom of her cup and hits her wetly on the nose. Jamie can’t help but splutter a little, and the thing plops back into the cup. It’s the tea bag.

“Uh, Dani?” Jamie realizes that she’s poking a bruise a little here, and Dani looks so happy next to her, breaking off pieces of scone with her fingers.

“How long was the tea left sitting?”

Dani’s brow furrows.

“I’m not sure how early you wake up these days,” she says. “I may have made it… a while ago. Is it okay?”

Jamie gently places the cup back onto the tray.

“It’s just a little on the cool side, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Dani tests the side of her cup with the back of my hand, as if to memorize what a little on the cool side means to Jamie.

“I can just warm it up in the microw—”

“ No. Let’s just enjoy our morning.”

Nine

“Does anyone who drinks this stuff actually enjoy it?”

They’re in bed, limb flung loosely over limb. On the TV screen, a woman sits tensely under a tree while another sticks her bare arm right into a beehive. Bees swarm up her sleeves and into her undone braid.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Dani says, “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Jamie curls up against Dani’s chest. She cradles her cup between them, more for its warmth than for any interest in drinking it.

“It tastes like hot toothpaste.”

On the screen, the bee charmer has returned with a mason jar full of honey. She invites the other woman to have a taste.

“Do you think they’re gonna get together?” Dani says. Jamie considers the scene for a few seconds.

“Yeah. But it’s a little weird to go after your dead brother’s fiancée like that isn’t it?”

Her own mug empty on the bedside table, Dani picks up Jamie’s abandoned tea. It’s still warm and it’s left a warm spot on the blankets between them.

“I guess it’s a little weird. I still want them to get together.”

Jamie makes a sound that might be agreement, but her eyes are drifting closed.

She’ll fall asleep before the movie’s over. Dani will fill her in on the details she’s missed over breakfast, before they have to return the tape to the video store.

Ten

“It’s so nice to have someone cook for me for a change,” Owen says, pleasantly. It’s not often that he’s been able to come around to their place over the years (and lately it’s become even less often).

“You’ve always done so much for us,” Dani calls from the kitchen. Something clatters loudly into the sink. “We just want to return the favour.”

Owen glances at Jamie, who confirms with a nod that it was, of course, Dani who had had such a thoughtful idea.

“I’m just nervous to serve dinner to the accomplished chef and restaurateur Owen Sharma,” Jamie says. “I’ll have you know that if it were my idea, I’d have just gotten takeaway and arranged it artfully onto plates. Real plates, of course. Nothing but the best for our Owen.”

Dani comes in then with a tray and busies herself with setting up the table. Jamie clears away the half-melted candles and clutter to make room.

“I thought we could have some tea before dinner.”

The hesitation that hangs in the air is palpable mist off a pond.

Owen clears his throat and politely reaches for a cup.

“Did you make it, Dani?”

“She’s been practicing,” Jamie says, drawing one knee up to her chest and reaching over to get a cup for herself.

“She says I’m not allowed to be a judge anymore. Says I’m biased against her, but really my tastebuds are probably shot. So, you are her lucky new victim.”

They toast to friendships and loves that are never truly lost and gamely drink Dani’s latest attempt at a proper cup of tea.

“You know what,” Owen says after a moment. “It’s not that bad.”

“Really?”

“You hear that, Poppins?” Jamie says, with another half toast of her cup. “You did it.”

“Really?” Dani says again. She takes her own sip, searching the taste for what might have made this brew remarkable. It just tastes like tea to her.

“It’s good?”

Owen and Jamie both make non-committal sounds, but neither do they abandon their drinks.

“It’s not the most amazing tea I’ve ever had,” Jamie admits. “But it’s absolutely, absolutely a decent cup of tea.”

“You know what?” Dani says, “I’ll take it.”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor fic #dani clayton #jamie taylor #jamie the gardener #dani x jamie #thobm

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